#joel pov

[toxicanonymity]

menace

4k / (your) creep!Joel x f!Reader / night walks AU

Thank you @serenaxpedro for the pic and gif 🖤

Thank you @missannwinchester for a great smut prompt. 🖤

✨A/N: you can skip to the 🚬🚬🚬 divider to get to Joel faster and skip the plot with her aunt talking about joel.

WARNINGS: creepy!Joel, some angst (read Q&A Qs 1 & 2 if you don't want it), alcohol, public groping, fingering, and humping, references to addiction, Jack getting the jack treatment, somnophilia, grinding and dry humping, thigh fucking, unsafe P in V sex, reader POV for most of it, followed by Joel POV smut.  There's a floor plan at the bottom of the post.

“Following you? This is my spot, pumpkin.” He nods to the women’s room and lowers his voice to add, “C’mon, you know that.”  You voice the question you’ve been asking yourself ever you saw him in that booth.  “Would it bother you if I was out with another guy?” He offers a little smirk and steps closer until you’re almost up against the opposite wall. He lowers his voice more.

“I got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, baby.”  He tilts his head and gazes into your eyes.  “Go ‘head, know ya want it.”  He holds out his hand and you hesitantly give him yours. His thumb draws light circles on your palm. “Can’t stand it, can ya? Bein’ this close, and not close enough.” 

(Night Walks 8)

After seeing a topless picture of yourself in your brand new text conversation, you reply, “omg DELETE.”

Joel replies, “what’s it worth to ya?” 

You don’t answer. 

“Door’s unlocked,” he says. 

You don’t respond. Your aunt has planted a seed of doubt and shame, and the last thing you wanna do is rush back over to his place.  If he showed up at your basement door, it’d be a different story. 

-

You don’t expect to like the guy your uncle introduces you to, but you agree to it in order to get your aunt off your back.  Just in case what your aunt says about Joel is true, you figure it also won’t hurt to get your mind off Joel.  Diversify your investment.  Because after spending all night and all day with him for the first time, you realize you’re more invested than you want to be.  

Your aunt is relieved when you once again agree to be set up on the date.  She’s making dinner and you’re sitting at the kitchen table watching.  “So, that’ll give you someone new to spend time with.  A real looker, too.” She smiles over her shoulder, then stirs the boiling pasta to keep it from sticking.  “I know there aren’t that many people your age in the neighborhood,” she says louder since she’s facing away.  As if that must be why you’d resort to Joel.

“He’s a little older than you, but not more than 10 years. Definitely not as old as. . . “  She puts the utensil down on the spoon rest and her face falls, then she turns around to face you.  She crosses her arms and her brows knit together.  “I’m sorry,”  She opens her mouth to say something, closes it, then changes her mind again.  “What do you and Joel do when you ‘hang out’?” She squints at you and uses air quotes. 

You swallow, then look around.  “Watch tv, listen to music.”  

“That’s all? I wasn’t born yesterday, honey.”  

You shrug.  “I don’t get it.  You heard rumors, so what.  What am I missing?”

“Not just rumors, honey.”  She looks down and away and swallows.  A pit opens in your stomach.  

You’re not sure you want the answer, but you ask, “Did you. . . sleep with him?”

She laughs loudly, then covers her mouth with her eyes wide.  

You study her face in anticipation.  

“No, no.  God, no.”  She laughs more quietly.  “Sleep with him? No, of course not.” 

“What, then? What’s not a rumor” Your heart is racing. 

“It was a long time ago.”  She returns her attention to the pasta. 

“What was??” 

She turns the stove off and turns around, crossing her arms again.  “I mean, years ago.”  She approaches the table and sits down across from you.  “. . . there was a cook-out at his next-door neighbor’s house.  He showed up and he was all by himself.  The other men weren’t including him.  I felt kinda bad and went up and talked to him.  He had a fancy drink. I asked him what it was, and he said he’d make me one really quick if I came to his bar. I had a bad feeling, but I still went to his basement.”  She pauses and looks at you. Your face feels stone cold.  

"What happened?"

“He tried to get me to, um-” 

“To what.” 

She sighs.  “Smoke reefer with him.”  She shakes her head in disbelief. 

You suppress a laugh. "And you said no?"

"Of course I said no! If I was gonna try it, it wouldn't be with him."

"Did he take no for an answer?"

"Oh, yeah.”

“So what, then?”

“I just got this terrible feeling about him.”  She shakes her head.  “So, I left.” 

“That’s all?” 

“And I was so embarrassed to go back to the barbecue smelling like that.” She pinches her eyes shut at the memory, then opens them. “I mean, not like that, I don’t really mind smelling it.  But smelling like him.” She holds her head with her palms on her temples for a moment, then lets them down. “Your uncle wasn't happy either. And I got pulled into the rumor mill, too, until I told people what really happened. You’ve gotta trust your gut, honey.”

Your brain might know better, but you’re pretty sure your guts want that cock all up in them.  "Did he try to touch you or anything?"

"No, nothing like that."

“Did he ever make you the drink?”

“Oh yeah, that was the first thing he did.” 

"Why do you think he invited you?" 

She sighs. "I dunno.  Maybe he was bummed after the guys at the grill wouldn’t really talk to him.  When I went over to say hello, maybe he thought I wanted to hang out."

"Where were you sitting in his basement?" 

"At the bar, watching him make the drink. These are a lot of questions, honey. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

You ignore the question and think for a moment. "I guess I don't get it. You say he has girls coming and going at all hours as if that means he's sleeping with anyone who goes in his basement. But he didn't even make a pass at you?"

She sighs. "Okay, you don’t have to believe that. But he’s still bad news. You know he's an ex con, right?"

Your eyes go wide. You're not put off by it, but it's never come up.  If it’s true, you shouldn't be surprised, given you don't do a lot of talking, much less share your life stories.  So it’s not like he's hiding it. 

🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬🚬

For the next few days, you and Joel don’t text each other, but you think about him every day and wish he would say something.  You think about your aunt’s concerns, too.  You feel a little better when you reflect on how this all started. How fixated Joel has been on you.  How fixated he is? You get nervous that he hasn’t texted.  You look him up. No criminal record in the last 10 years and you'd have to go to the courthouse to go back further.  You wouldn’t put it past the rumor mill to be wrong about this. 

One night, Joel texts “Walk?”  

When you don’t respond, an hour later, he says, “swim?” which makes you smile. 

“Not tonight, I have a headache.” 

He replies, “Feel better 💐🍆.” It makes you laugh but also turns you on.  You wonder why he doesn’t just show up one night.  

-

You go out with Jack and he’s surprisingly hot, nice to talk to, and funny. He's a welder with a nice physique. He obviously works with his hands.  His black hair is just beginning to gray.  On the first date, You tell him what brought you to the suburbs.  The need to save money and get some space from your immediate family. Jack says he wishes he felt like he could get that space.  He shares that his father is a recovering addict, and he checks in on his parents a lot.  He worries that his dad is going to slip.  You have some common interests and you like him enough to want to see him again. The two of you text casually throughout the week. 

For your second date, he picks you up for a drink at your favorite restaurant. It was Jack’s choice, but there aren’t exactly a lot of restaurants close by.  When you walk into the restaurant, your face heats up.  The last time you were there, you ran into Joel and he gave you head in the bathroom.  You’ve known this, but once you’re there, something about physically being in the space again makes you feel exposed, like the staff must somehow know. 

You sit at the bar and have a couple of drinks.  The bar is a big square island in the middle of the restaurant.  The main restaurant space is behind you.  The front door is straight ahead, and the other two walls in the bar area are lined with booths.  You’re in the middle of telling Jack about movies you’d like to see when you lose his attention.  His eyes fixate on a corner booth and his face falls.

You follow his line of sight and your heart skips a beat when you see Joel. He’s facing away from you, but you can see his profile and you’d recognize it anywhere.  You can see his pinstripe PJ pants, too, and a blazer which he's surely wearing over a very low-cut t-shirt. He’s sitting across from another attractive man Joel's age or older.  More gray.

You realize your hand is covering your mouth and your eyes are wide.  

Jack notices too and does a double take, then asks, "You know him??" 

"Uh, no, I don't think so, why? Do you?" 

“That’s my father.” Your heart almost beats out of your chest for a few seconds until you realize he’s obviously talking about the man facing y’all.  “And I’m pretty sure that other guy is a dealer.” 

You nod slowly. “I’m sorry.”

Jack’s eyes are welling up as he tries to call his dad and his dad ignores it. Jack’s dad gets up and slaps hands horizontally with Joel, punctuated by a finger grip, and his dad leaves.  Joel starts to turn around and in the corner of your eye you see him head toward the restrooms. 

“I’m gonna go to the ladies room,” you say and affectionately squeeze his shoulder.  

-

The restrooms are around the corner out of view.  Just before Joel opens the door to the men’s room, you ask, "Are you selling drugs to addicts?" 

He turns around with a confused expression, which turns to bemused when he sees your angry face.  You glance to his exposed chest and the subtle dip between his hard pecs. He looks you up and down and says,  “Lookin’ good tonight, pumpkin.” You try to remember if he’s seen you in a dress or skirt before.  Yeah. . . the gas station, and the last time you were here.  

“Well are you?”

“Not sellin’ to anyone these days.  Just an old friend sayin’ hey.  Who’s he to you?” 

“A friend’s dad.”  You squint and try to read his eyes.  You doubt he’d lie about something like this, only because he doesn’t seem to have any shame.  “Then what are you doing here? Are you following me?”

“Followin' you? This is my spot, pumpkin.” He nods to the women’s room and lowers his voice to add, “C’mon, you know that.” 

You decide to voice the question you’ve been asking yourself in your head ever since the moment you saw him in that booth.  “Would it bother you if I was out with another guy?”

He offers a little smirk and steps toward you. You step back until you’re almost up against the opposite wall of the hall. He lowers his voice more. “I got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, baby.”  He tilts his head and gazes into your eyes.  “Go ‘head, know ya want it.”  He holds out his hand and you hesitantly give him yours. His thumb draws light circles on your palm. “Can’t stand it, can ya? Bein’ this close, and not close enough.” 

He gently, slowly lowers your hand with plenty of time for you to pull it away, but you don’t.  He puts your palm against the front of his soft pants and takes a deep breath as he cups your hand around his cock. He’s barely hard, but still big. He uses your hand to slowly massage himself for a few seconds, breathing heavier as he hardens into your hand and a stab of need shoots through you. 

He takes his hand away and yours lingers on his crotch for a moment, pressing into him one more time before you drop your hand to your side.  He puts his hands on the wall on either side of your shoulders and leans into you, pressing his pelvis up against your body. He gets harder and leans in to nearly whisper in your ear, “feel that? your favorite drug?” 

His lips linger at your ear, his hot breath teasing you until he closes his mouth and really presses himself into you with an, “mmm.” His scruff brushes against your cheek as he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, your bodies still in contact, your panties getting wetter and wetter. “It’s all over your face, baby.”

He takes a deep breath, and his warm package further stiffens against you.  “Have your fun,” he murmurs. His face drifts closer to yours again.  He uses two fingers to tilt your chin up and your lips part. “You’ll be back, pumpkin.”  Then he closes his lips around yours and thrusts his tongue into your mouth.  He moans, “Mmm,” as his lips knead yours and he sucks your mouth. His hardness swells against you as you kiss, and your chest fills with butterflies.  

He steps back and adjusts himself with a raise of his eyebrows. “It’ll be here for ya.”  He winks then goes into the men’s room. 

-

You go back to the bar and awkwardly sip your drink as Jack texts his Mom and dad. 

“Are you sure he wasn’t just saying hi?” you ask. 

“I dunno,” Jack says and puts his head in his hands. He looks up again.  “He didn’t look like he’s been using, but it scares me.” 

You’re startled by Joel’s voice on the other side of you ordering a drink at the bar.  

"Don't I know you from somewhere?"

“You know this guy?” Jack asks quietly as if Joel isn’t there. 

"We’re neighbors.” 

“Neighbors, sure,” Joel says with a fakely contemplative frown, then mutters, “pillow neighbors.” You hope it isn’t too obvious when you elbow him. 

Jack must be too distracted to hear the comment. 

“What time is it?” Joel asks, then holds his phone so you can see it and presses a button to turn the screen on.  

The blood drains from your face–Joel’s lock screen is the topless photo of you.  The one you told him to delete.  You shift your body to try to block it. 

Jack’s phone rings and the screen says Mom. “I’m gonna take this,” he says and goes outside. 

-

Joel lingers next to you and sits at the bar after he gets his drink while Jack is still outside.  He swivels his stool to face you and you swivel yours to slightly face him.  

“What’s on the menu tonight?” he asks and lightly lays his hand on your knee. “Hmm?” Your legs part all on their own as he slowly slides his hand up your thigh.  He squeezes your thigh when his middle finger brushes the cotton finish line. ‘Member havin’ somethin’ juicy before.” He slides his ring and middle fingers under your panties. His lips form a small ‘o’ as he exhales upon feeling how wet you are.  Soaked.  “Hell yeah,” he murmurs.

You scoot to the edge of the stool, you can’t help yourself.  You keep glancing up at the door.  He slides his fingers along your cunt and teases your entrance, watching you squirm. He stands up to get closer and insert two fingers. He brings his mouth to your ear and whispers, “filthy, baby. bet ya'd take it right here”  He pulls back to watch your face and murmurs, “right on this stool, wrappin’ your legs around me. bet ya’d like that.” When he can see your breathing and eyelids both getting heavier, he slowly pulls his hand away with a smile and a quiet, self-satisfied laugh. 

He sits back down on his stool and orders four tequila shots.  One is for Jack, and there’s an extra one for you when Jack gets back.  Joel licks your hand and holds his dry hand out palm-up for margarita salt.  The bartender squints at him but obliges.  He sprinkles some of it on your hand and it sticks to his saliva.  Then, he taps his glistening fingers in the salt.  Your eyes go wide at the use of your slick for this purpose.  After taking the shot, he obscenely licks the salt and your juices off his fingers, sucks them clean, and winks at you.  The door opens and Jack comes back in.  

“Night, pumpkin,” Joel says as he gets up to leave. “Have a good time.”  On his way out, he gives Jack a friendly salute. 

Instead of driving, Jack orders an Uber for both of you together.  On the ride to your house, Jack is mostly quiet. His mom doesn’t think his dad is using.  Jack asks you if you do any drugs, and you tell him you smoke.  He doesn’t say anything judgmental but he nods pensively.  You tell him you’ve never bought anything from Joel and just know him from the neighborhood.  You try to comfort him about his dad and reassure him it’s probably nothing, and to trust his gut about how his dad looked.  He kisses you good night as the Uber pulls up to your house. It’s a long kiss, but melancholy on his end. You ask if he wants to come in, but he declines and leaves in the Uber.

The next day, Jack texts you that he doesn’t think he’s ready to be with someone who does any drugs at all, as much as he likes you. He thinks it would be easier to stop seeing each other now before it gets more serious. You’re hurt, but also a little relieved.  You won’t have to feel guilty about what happened with Joel at the restaurant. And at least you gave it a shot.

That evening, you take a walk but don’t run into Joel.  You decide to text him.  After typing and erasing multiple things, several of which invite him over or ask if you can come over, you simply send, “hey”. 

He doesn’t respond. You go to sleep pining for him, very turned on, but too sad and lazy to even bother with a toy. 

-

Joel is napping when you send the text, but he’s not surprised you do.  You can try to stay away all you want, but Joel knows it's always just a matter of time until you need his cock inside you.  That's where he belongs - inside you. 

When Joel wakes up, he showers and moseys over to your backyard instead of responding to your text.  Looks like you've gone to sleep early for once. All the better.  He lets himself into your basement and slinks into your room as easily as he did the first time. You remain fast asleep as he just barely lifts up the blanket and sheets for a moment.  He sees you're naked and his breath hitches. "Yeahhh," he says under his breath, then starts to undress.

He gets fully nude, then slides under the sheets and drapes his arm gently over you. His warm chest presses against your back, and his hardening cock lays against your ass.  You stir and softly moan in your sleep as he presses himself up against you. 

He cups your breast and bends his knees to nestle in behind you, your body entirely cradled by his. He can't help but rock his hips into you. "Mmm," you sigh, still asleep. He slides his hand down your torso and dips his finger between your legs just to check.  You're wet. 

"Fuck yeah," he whispers to himself. 

He holds his hand there for leverage and slowly humps against you.  He grinds against you rock hard and returns to groping your breast. He presses his lips against the nape of your neck.  Then you make the sweetest sound. 

"Joel," you sigh, making his cock swell harder against you.

"Shhhh," he whispers into your neck. "It’s okay, baby." You push your ass back into him. He's so hard, he's leaning precum and the head of his cock slides wetly against your warm skin.   "Shhhh," he repeats. “Go back to sleep.” 

You sigh and settle into his body as he grinds against you nice and slow. “Good girl.  Fuck ya real good in the mornin’." He slowly, carefully wedges his cock between your thighs for warmth and friction, and is met with all your wetness.  He slides his cock along your slippery seam and cups your crotch from the front.  He fucks your thighs until he can't contain himself anymore, and comes into his hand with the softest moan.  He cleans it off with a tissue from your nightstand and uses your hand sanitizer to haphazardly make his hand a little less sticky.

Then he settles in as close as possible again, his eyelids heavy from the orgasm. He cups your breast and falls asleep with his body cradling yours, his warm, softening dick pressed against your back. 

-

In the morning, his cock is rock-hard and nestled between your thighs again. When he wakes up, his hips are already moving, and you're pushing your ass back into him.  You interlace your fingers with his and place his hand on your breast. You moan softly as he wakes up and his movements become more deliberate.

"Fuck, baby," he whispers into the crown of your head. "Want it bad, don't ya?" His hips thrust gracefully and powerfully, sliding his stiff cock along your dripping cunt again.  You lift your top leg enough to wedge your hand between your thighs and your fingers meet the head of his cock. 

"Fuck me," you whisper. 

He continues to thrust into your thighs, grunting silently. 

 "Do it, Joel."  His breath hitches at the sound of his name.  

You tilt your hips just right and your fingertips gently nudge the firm, sensitive cock-head into your entrance. You press your ass back into him and your body practically sucks him in, sealing your tight, wet little hole around his tip.  

He moans, then replies, "yes ma'am." He wraps his arm over you for leverage and shoves his thick cock into you with a soft grunt. He moans as he feels your insides make way. He repeats the motion and you both sigh as he bottoms out. He stays there all the way inside you for a moment. 

"Feel so good, baby," he whispers as he pulls you back on his cock and rocks his hips, nudging a little further into you.  You're so tight around him. Your cunt is so needy for him. He slowly backs out most of the way and pauses.  You whine at the loss and your cunt grabs at him.  Then he rails into you again and you push your ass back to  meet his pelvis. “Ohhh,” he groans.  

"Fuck," you whisper. "Joel," you sigh and his cock twitches inside you at the sound of his name.  You push your ass back harder and he grabs your hip for leverage.

"That’s right, baby," he murmurs hoarsely.  He nibbles at your neck your nipples pucker

The firm tip of his cock nudges your g-spot and you moan, "Mmmmm." Your head tilts back and he lifts his head up from the pillow to kiss the side of your neck as he thrusts into you at a perfect beat and hungrily palms your breast. You fuck like this for a few minutes, and he can sense your climax building.   

"Fuck," you whisper, pushing your ass back harder, fucking yourself on his cock as he pounds you. "Close," you manage to spit out. You harshly swallow and it sounds like you almost choke on your own saliva. "Oh god, Joel," you say in a loud whisper.

He feels you twitching around him and sighs "Ohh, baby." His hips snap into you and his fingertips circle your clit. He buries his length to the hilt each time with a soft grunt. "That's it, baby. come on." 

You whine, "yeah," and he pounds into you."Just like that," you say.   

"All yours, baby," he pants. "Come on it."

You whimper, "fuck," and he pounds you harder. "So good," you whine and arch your back. 

"That's it baby."

You unravel with a moan and begin to clench around him. "Yeah," he breathes as he fucks you through it. "Ohhh, that's it, baby." His sweaty chest glides against your back.  He loves feeling your back against him.

You moan, "J-joel," as your cunt flutters and pulses tightly. 

He buries his mouth in your hair and slows down, then slams into you to the hilt with a grunt.  He knows he's there. He nudges further and groans as he erupts inside you, muffling himself with his mouth against your head as huge pulses fill you up with his warm load. 

He inhales your hair and kisses you on the head as you both recover.

It's still dark out.  Your bodies are sticky with each other's sweat. 

"Mornin', beautiful" he says, voice hoarse and low, cock still inside you.  "Miss it?" He asks with one last subtle thrust that makes you shudder.

"Mmm," you answer faintly and fucked out.   He holds you and you fall back asleep with him inside you.  Its where he belongs.

-

Q&A for this one.

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! It really means a lot to me, motivates me, and helps me know what worked. It also helps me recognize you if I see you in the wild. I love y'all, you're the best.

-

NW: @tehweeana @ele-meno-p @swedishscumfuck

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore  @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy  @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk  @filthfairy  @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles  @harriedandharassed  @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy  @cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy  @pedropascal-whore  @spideysimpossiblegirl  @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths

[mermaidgirl30]

✨My Paper Heart Will Fold✨

A/N: Another unplanned little fic. This just came to me this morning as I was listening to Dayseeker. Joel trying to run from his feelings because he doesn’t want to be hurt again and doesn’t want to admit he has feelings. But he finally admits they’re there 🥹 I am never getting over this man. This is mostly in his POV 😭 I see nothing else but a struggling Joel so in love as I listen to “Paper Heart” by Dayseeker.

“The weight of the world is too much for me to hold. My paper heart will fold.

It's safer if I don't reply. Stay locked up for weeks at a time. 'Cause nothing can hurt me if I wait 'til the chaos collides

It's safer if I don't reply. Stay locked up for weeks at a time. 'Cause nothing can hurt me if I…”

- “Paper Heart” by Dayseeker

Summary: Joel fights himself over his feelings for you, not wanting to admit they’re there. He finally comes to blatant terms that he can’t lose you. He can’t ever lose you. Not ever.

Word Count: 1.5k

Rating: Mature for language (18+ Only)

Tags: Angst, feelings, Joel not wanting to admit he loves you, Joel finally giving in to what he wants

Divider by @saradika-graphics

The sunset slips under the soft, fluffy clouds. Shades of violet and orange bursts of marveling red seem to collide together as they mix into a sea of mixed paint. There’s no noise. The world mute, only the hum of the quiet engine and the low vibrations of a Guns N’ Roses song plays softly through the gravel on the road.

Joel rakes a hand through his rough beard, letting his calloused fingers scrape against every grain like he tries to get rid of every single blaring thought in his mind. He pushes the feelings down, letting them fade into complete darkness as he lets his heartstrings unattach to every single memory of you. He can’t do it though. He can’t.

He grips the leather steering wheel hard as he continues to drive and drive and drive. Putting as many miles and distance away from your house that he possibly can. He wants to turn around so badly. It’s like he’s desperate, clinging to any form of you as he digs his nail beds into the worn leather. He can’t break, can’t let himself slip into feelings he wants to avoid.

You’ll hurt him. You’ll hurt him. But you really wouldn’t. You never would. It’s all in Joel’s mind. In his dark, conflicting mind that twists and twists until he doesn’t even know which direction he’s driving anymore. He just lets the fading sunset drive him down the narrow road as the music changes over to a more somber mood.

He sees the violet color clashing with amber in the sky, and it reminds him of your eyes. Your fucking beautiful eyes that he spent all night gazing into as he watched you lay across his chest as ragged breaths ran swiftly out of your relaxed mouth. Your eyes melding into his like sparks coming off a lightning strike. Bright, encapsulating, blinding.

He feels it in his chest then. That deep, aching feeling as he remembers your fingers curling around his tousled locks, soft lips crashing against his as he inhaled your strawberry scent that seemed to encompass his entire being. He can still smell you on him, on his fingers, on his skin, everywhere.

He clenches his fist at the thought of it all, of the thought of you. He didn’t want to leave. Not really. Not when you just laid your entire heart out to him. Not after you spent the entire night wrapped tightly in his arms as he rocked you to sleep. Not after he realized how he felt about you, too.

Pain sears through him. Hot, coursing pain that seems to take over every single joint in his hollow body. He’s not good at this, terrible at expressing his feelings. He’s been hurt too much, can’t stand the thought of withstanding another heartbreak. He can’t even imagine it. Not with you, not when he’s so deeply in love with you that he can’t even express it himself.

He’s a fool, a fucking coward as he just drives and drives, pretending like this could all go away. Like he can just forget every single feeling you made him feel over and over again like it means absolutely nothing when in reality it means everything to him. You are what drives him to be good, you are what makes him feel complete. You, you, you. It’s always fucking you.

You are the reason he gets up every morning and tries to do better. You are what keeps his battered heart beating. You are what makes him come alive every single night as you tell him how good he is to you, how you can’t see yourself with anyone else. And he realizes then that he can’t lose you. He can’t fucking lose you. He just can’t.

He slams on the brakes so hard that the entire Chevy jolts and throws him forward as his seatbelt pulls hard against his chest. His eyes go wide as he realizes what he needs to do. He turns the truck around so fast that he swears he sees stars. He presses on the gas pedal firmly, going faster and faster and faster until he’s going fifteen miles over the speed limit. He doesn’t care, he needs to get to you. That’s all that matters.

He needs you to hear just how much you mean to him, how much you make him feel alive. For you brought a dead man back to life. A torn, bruised, broken man. You made him feel complete, whole. A feeling that no one else had been able to do. It was you, it was always you. From the moment he met you. He should’ve fucking known.

He can’t run away.

Not now.

Not ever.

He drives and drives and drives until he’s stopped in front of your house. The one where the porch light blinks as moths dance across the shadows and the light blue shutters sit stark against the midnight dark sky. He jumps out of his truck and slams the door with a bang, his leather boots scuffing across cement as he runs up the sidewalk, right to your porch, right to your solid wood door.

He stares for a second, a blank page until every single feeling inside his broken body comes to life like a sharp spark ignited. He feels it all. The way you made him feel the very first day he saw you standing in that busy diner, the way your fingers curled around his calloused hand that second week in the movie theater, the first time your lips brushed against his as you sat in the passenger side of his red Chevy, and the first time your bodies melded into one on those delicate pink bed sheets of yours. Your porcelain skin. So soft, so pure, so very tender.

He knocks once, twice, three times as he raps against it desperately. His knuckles crash against the wood just like his heart beats wildly out of his chest as thunder crashes in the far distance. A storm is coming and not just any storm. A storm so violent it’ll knock him to the ground as he wears his fragile heart on his sleeve.

Vulnerable. He’s so fucking vulnerable as he stands under the shade of your porch, awaiting the moment he’ll crash against the surface and take the breath from you as he confesses it all. Lets his heart pour violently against the roaring wind as he gives you every single thing he’s wanted to tell you for months. He can’t hide from the past pain anymore, can’t disappear under a damp rock as he hides it all away like a blinded coward. He can’t run from you anymore. He needs you. He needs you.

You open the door, pulling it wide as you see him standing there. A mess, his face wrecked as his eyebrows knit together and his brown eyes water, lips trembling as his thick fingers play nervously with the bottom button of his deep blue flannel shirt. He’s such a wreck, but he’s here. He’s standing here on your porch, in the middle of the night. He’s here.

“Joel?” you ask confused, thinking he wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Not after he left without an explanation. Not after he fought battles with himself in his mind. Not after he told you he had to go.

“Sweetheart, I… I…” he stutters, muttering nonsense under his breath until his eyes go wide and an expression you’ve never quite seen settles over his weathered face. He’s so beautiful in the glow of the moonlight, even if he’s a total wreck.

Without anymore hesitation, he crashes his lips firmly over yours as thunder erupts in the sky, blinding lightning lighting up the sky as he slots in between your lips and tangles his tongue with yours. It’s desperate, frantic, full of pain he lets flood out. It’s also tender, soft, endearing as he holds your face in between his calloused hands, fingertips brushing up against your jawline.

It’s loud, stifling as he releases his lips and hangs over you, foreheads drawn together as he looks deep into your glistening eyes. His deep, chestnut eyes say he’s in love. He’s so in love. With you.

He takes a deep breath and lets it all out, no longer able to keep it in. “I love you. I love you so goddamn much that I can’t breathe when I’m not around you. It’s like I’m suffocating on my own air. It’s you, baby. It’s always been you. My girl, my sweet flower. It’s you.”

His lips fall back on top of yours, and it’s like the world stops. It’s just you and him. Only you and him. So you invite him in, lock the door and get tangled up into his entire being as you sink into your velvet sheets. The world dimming as the only light that shines is him on top of you as passion burns through the room.

You let the night slip away as you get lost in each other, collectively revelling in each other until you fall into pure bliss. It’s just you and Joel. Nobody else matters, nothing else exists. It’s just you and him. Two flames igniting a wildfire that can’t be controlled any longer. It’s just warm, fiery love.

Love. It’s love.

[thewritersaddictions]

TLOU: Joel Miller- The Giver

Pairing: Joel Miller x Innocent Virgin!Reader

Pov: Joel Miller

Warnings: Innocent reader, Smut, Domish Joel Miller, Joel Miller.

Summary: Joel has no control over his actions when he finds Y/n in his clothes after wash day in Jackson.

A/n- Dividers by firefly-graphics

WC- 2.6

Main Master List // TLOU Master List

"Y/n?" I shout through the house. Earlier in the morning Y/n had come to me asking if I had anything that needed to be cleaned. The patrol was done, and a few clickers on Tommy and I's route. But nothing else, so we were able to get home quicker than usual.

Y/n and I wasn't together. Not that I deserved such a beautiful girl like her. Ellie and I had found her on our way to Jackson. She was badly hurt, but no bites. Her ankle was broken and barely survived. Ellie had said we had to help her. If we didn't do anything else then that would be enough.

The kiddo was right. It was good that we got to her before clickers, or runners did. "Y/n?" I shouted again. The weather during summer here in Jackson was to live for. Warm mornings, hot afternoons, and cool nights. Ellie left with me earlier in the morning for patrols. Leaving with her girlfriend Dina. No response. "Where the hell is this girl?" I asked myself, then the sounds of humming came from the backyard. Most washes weren't done by machines. They had been used for metal and extra parts. Everything was hand washed which is fine by most of us who live in Jackson.

I walked through the kitchen, and out onto the back porch. Y/n was humming away not having noticed me yet. Clothes pinned up for the sun to dry. "Y/n?" I asked, and she jumped. "Oh my, Joel you scared me." a pause. "Wait, why are you home so early? Is Ellie alright? Are you okay?" Y/n was a worry wart, constantly making sure we were both okay. That included doing our laundry, cooking for us, and making sure the house was tidy. My carving room was clean and clear of mess.

I walked over to her. "Everythin' is just fine sweetheart." Y/n and I aren't together. By all means even as hard as Ellie, Tommy, and Maria push for me to take her out on a date while out patrolling with her. I don't dare push over that line. Y/n and I will just continue to live out our lives living together without being together. She calms for only a second and as my eyes rake down her body. I notice that she's being engulfed by the shirt she's sporting.

The shirt that's mine. She notices me looking and looks down at her own body. "Oh, Joel I'm sorry it was the only thing that was clean. I just needed something to wear while I was going about my chores." Y/n mutters as she flattens out the fabric. The shirt sits down by her upper thighs. Covering some skin, while exposing a part of her that I've never seen.

I've been starin' for too long. "It's fine sweetheart. Thanks for doing laundry." I say. She doesn't turn around to start clothing pinning back up. "Are you hungry?" She asks. I contemplate the want for food and the fact that I would get to be able to watch her in my shirt waltz around our kitchen and make food. "I could go for something." She nods, and motions for us to walk inside. The sliding glass door is still open. She walks in front of me, and my eyes don't advert from her ass as she walks in. The only thing covering her ass is my shirt on her frame. "I'll give you back your shirt when the laundry is finally dry." I don't say anything and as I lean into the door frame. I take of all Y/n in her glory.

"Joel?" She asks. "Hmm?" "Are you alright?" She asks me. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. I'm just a thinkin'" She sighs and goes back to cooking. "Nothin' to heavy cause dinner in a few hours." She mutters. "Some leftovers sound good?" I smile and nod my head. I watch as she flips open foil containers and reheats them on the stove. Her body moves under the fabric of the shirt. At some points when she moves the fabric lifts up. Showing off skin, and lace panties. 'Stop staring at her.' I have to tell myself.

I have to show some sort of restraint. She places the food in front of me as I sat sit at the island. She leans into the island. Popping her ass out for all two to see. We eat mostly in silence. "Fuck this is good even now," I mutter as I shove a forkful into my mouth. She blushes. The sun hits the high sky, and the mid-afternoon is blazing outside. sliding glass door still open. "Where'd you get the shirt from honey?" I ask her. Finally wondering if she had taken a sneak peek into my room, and into my closet. "I um… it was in your room." the longer I look at her.

The more I notice that's the same shirt I wore to bed the night prior. The same shirt I had tucked under my chin as I took my throbbing cock out. Trying to get some sort of relief from the day earlier. From the thoughts of Y/n that never left my head. "So you went into my room?" I ask trying my best to keep a straight face as her eyes went big and a sorry expression hit her face.

"Oh, Joel… Listen I promise I just didn't have anything clean." I stare at her, "I'm just teasin' ya. You can always go into my room if you need anything from me while I'm here, or gone." She giggles. There aren't many moments when it's just Y/n and I.

When we were done, Y/n and I got up. We washed dishes together, but even standing next to her my thoughts were clouded by sex and lust. I touched the small of her back as I reached over for a towel. Y/n, and I wasn't close in age. a twenty-year gap between the two of us, but still a part of my brain didn't want to push boundaries. To hell with it, we had survived when no one else had.

She pauses her motions, the silverware clattering to the sink basin. "Are you alright?" I ask her, Y/n takes in a short breath. "Yup, yeah I'm fine. Super good over here." She says. I don't know where the confidence comes from, but the words just leave my brain and out of my mouth they go. "Do you like when I touch you Y/n?" I ask her, and she nods her head. "Do you want me to touch you in other places?" I ask her.

I drop the towel to the countertop. Forget about the damn dishes, and just take what I want. What I've been denying myself for far too long. Watching her waltz around the house and act like the perfect little housewife. She nods, and moans as I trail my hands up her back and grab the back of her neck. "Joel!" She whimpers. "We should… What if Ellie comes home early?" She asks. Worry is laced in her whimpering words, but I'm not thinking about Ellie coming home early. Or hell anything else.

I'm thinking about her.

Naked.

Streched out.

Maoning my name in my bed.

"Ellie isn't comin' home early baby. Now do you want me to keep touchin' you darlin'?" I ask her. She's not looking at me. Rather the window outside gives a perfect view of the drying laundry. Her bras and panties mixed together with my ratty jeans, and fitted shirts. It's a sight to be lookin' at all while someone is touchin' and whispering into your ear. Consent regardless of how tight my pants feel due to my throbbing cock is the most important aspect.

"Y/n? Did you hear me?" I ask she's off somewhere. "Joel!, Please for the love of god, don't you dare stop touchin' me now." It's really the only thing I need to continue my fantasy out on her body. The feeling of her hips turning against my body made me freeze for a moment. Then we're staring at each other. Well more like I'm staring down at her.

Her eyes are filled with a sort of lust I haven't seen in a long time. The fire-burning passion just needs a spark to keep the fire going. Her hands rest on my chest. She must be able to feel my racing, frantic heartbeat, she doesn't say anything though. She comes up. Reaching on the tips of her toes to kiss my lips. I shy away. I need a 'yes' I need the words to hit my ears. I need to know for real, for sure that she wants this. "Joel?" She worries often for the wrong reasons. "Y/n, stop worrying," I say bringing a hand to rest on her warm cheek. "I just… your eyes are already saying yes darlin', now I just need your mouth to tell me the same." I say.

The eye contact is making me weak to my knees. I feel like a teenager all over again. I feel like the same kid that heard his girlfriend was pregnant and he was gonna be a father. Worry, excitement, need, and yearning. The thought of Sarah is in my thoughts for a moment and then I hear a clear of a throat. Y/n voice is clear as day. "I want you…" A pause, and I'll wait for her. "I want you Joel." She finally says as if she was contemplating what words to use.

"Okay, good, cool." I try to not sound too excited. With the way we're standing, Y/n is pressed up against me, and the longer that happens the harder I get in my jeans. I buck forward just a little testing the waters between us. She throws her head back keeping her hands on my chest. With the height difference, it's perfect. I buck against dropping a hand to her back. Oh sweet jesus. The fact that she standing her in front of me. Half naked, in my shirt. "Oh Joel! She moans out in chasing pleasure.

"Oh Y/n, can you feel this?" I demand to know. I want to know, need to know. "Oh, Joel you feel so big." I haven't even taken myself out, and I feel like I'm about to ruin my jeans. "Yeah, I bet you can't wait to…" My words are swallowed hard when I feel Y/n's hand drawing down between our bodies and grabbing at the bulge in my jeans. "Oh fuck sweetheart!" The moans leave my body involuntarily. But I can see confidence growing on her face. "Do you want to take this to someone more comfortable?" She asks. So much sass that's been covered by an innocent persona.

I nod my head, thoughts and words were unable to be made clear. She takes my hand in hers. "Let's go to your room, and you can help me take off his shirt of yours Joel." She murmured. I let her drag me towards the stairs, towards my bedroom. Her hand is so soft compared to mine, so small compared to mine. If makes me stop working for a moment.

She opens my bedroom door open. "Where do you…" "Come on doll," I sit on the edge of my bed. Legs open wide for her to slot in between. "You just come to stand right here for me baby." She does resting her hands on my shoulder. I'm surrounded by the scent of caramel and fresh laundry. "Sweetheart you smell so good. Like a good evening out." I murmur to her as my hands come to rest on her hips. She fidgets for a moment, looking down at her feet. "Joel, can I… I need to tell ya something."

I don't show the worry on my face. Instead, I keep my face warm, and solid. "Okay, what's your brain thinkin' about darlin'?" I ask her. She's still resting on me, not yet walking away. "I… when you found me. all those years ago. Um, I was still young ya know. Just turned twenty-three." "Babygirl what are you talkin' on about now?" I ask, "I just… you should know before we… Joel, I'm a virgin." She stares right at me. Her eyes bore through me. Hitting me straight in my heart.

Did she think? What was she thinkin'. That I was gonna kick her out of my bedroom for not being sexually experienced. For not being like everyone else her age. "Joel?' I've been silent for too long, "Y/n, look at me." The words start to flow from me. "Y/n, listen to me real clear now. You're a beautiful, amazing person. Don't worry about not having any sexual experience. If you wish or want to continue this which I most definitely want to continue. I will help you all along the way, we take it as slow as you want, or as fast as you want. Don't worry about freakin me out or making a fool of yourself around me."

Y/n stares at me, licking her lip. Bitting down hard on them. "Are you comfortable moving forward?" I asked. She nodded. "Good girl, now let's get you out of these clothes." I reach up grabbing the hem of my shirt off her body. It moves gracefully off her frame. Landing on the floor behind her. I stare at her in all of her glory. Lace panties, and a simple bra.

"God Y/n you're a god-forsaken beauty standing in front of me all for me." She blushes, almost shying her body away from me. "Don't you dare move away from my stare? Like I said before you're beautiful Y/n." I say and I pull her into my grasp. Kissing her exposed skin. She shivers, and moans. "Your beard Joel!" She moans out grabbing the back of my head. "Do you like it? Scratching your perfect skin." I ask her continuing my kisses up her skin. Between the valley of her breasts.

Hours later. The front doors open, and creak. Loud footsteps are echoing through the halls downstairs. "Joel? Y/n?" I hear Ellie shout. I look over at Y/n, laying on my chest. Covered up modestly by the sheets that used to be hot. "Where are you guys?" She shouts again, and as the stairs creak I continue to read through the pages I've read through a few hundred times already. The light from the hallway streams through the cracked doorway. Then there's a blast of light covering over both Y/n, and I. "Joel do you…" the smoile that creeps up on Ellies face is funny to say the least. Y/n stays still, unmoving agasint my chest.

I've given up on trying to keep this kid at bay. Ellie will find out whatever she wants to know regardless if you're trying to protect her, or not wanting to tell her. "You sly old dog…" I roll my eyes, setting my book down and my glasses on top. Y/n stirs in her sleep. "You best keep your voice down, she's tired," I say to Ellie. Elllie faces turns five different emotions. "Eww… I didn't need to know that. anyways I just wanted to tell you guys that Dina and I were gonna go out for drinks. Seeing as you guys are busy I'll leave you be." Ellie says, "Thanks kiddo, now do ya mind?" she rolls her at me, and walks ou closing the door like it was before.

"I wonder how long she has been trying to get us together?" Y/n murmurs in her sleep. "For a long time dear, and it's not just Ellie." She giggles a sleepy giggle.

Compelted on: 07/05/23

Posted on: 07/19/23

TLOU-

[codes-and-stuffs]

watching joel's pov of empires is legit SO funny bc he is just Not In The Lore. he walks up to jimmy and ignores the literal demon like five feet to the right and is like "hey what's up want to be my best man btw. weird stuff going on amarite". the build is so so incredible tho like What The Fuck How Did You Make This

[widows-alliance-but-everywhere]

[applestruda]

Hermittober Day 6 - Bread

[astronomical-bagel]

HELP THE WAY THE GLASSES ARE POSITIONED MAKES IT LOOK LIKE THEYRE OGLING HIM

[goodtimeswithscared]

yesterday i spent twelve hours watching the limited life bdubs’ pov, here’s my favorite moments :3

[seawaveleo]

i haven’t watched the bad boys pov yet but this is basically what happened right

[theminecraftbee]

god I hadn’t watched joel in forever I sort of fell off of watching him lately. and I’d forgotten how much his Whole Thing is. I forgot how hilarious I found him awkwardly bullying himself and the audience was. and how hilarious all his narration is. and how incredibly puntable he is someone should kick him like a football. DELIGHTFUL ADDITION EXCITED TO SEE MORE.

[katiexpunk]

Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that. 

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two. 

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet. 

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office. 

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists. 

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.” 

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits. 

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid. 

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month. 

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts. 

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old. 

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time. 

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++ 

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30. 

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits. 

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you. 

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand. 

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty. 

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking. 

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse. 

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep. 

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place. 

 "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table. 

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked. 

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.” 

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself. 

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake. 

He’s just another customer. 

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy. 

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible. 

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it. 

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back. 

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it. 

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it. 

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night. 

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it. 

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented. 

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell. 

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright. 

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you. 

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer. 

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it.  Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot. 

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You. 

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore. 

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip. 

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello. 

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is. 

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know. 

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that? 

Jesus. 

No. 

He’s just a customer. 

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything. 

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back. 

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan. 

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet. 

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever. 

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone. 

But you don’t call or text. 

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager. 

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type. 

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock. 

Fuck. 

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except – 

Somethings wrong. 

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off. 

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense. 

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight. 

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that. 

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now. 

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.  

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect. 

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two. 

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. 

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened. 

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal. 

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you. 

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind. 

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you. 

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one. 

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need. 

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her. 

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response. 

Rip off the fucking bandaid man. 

“Why didn’t you call?” 

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.  

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye. 

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?  

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things. 

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him. 

But no. 

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his. 

“Ki–” 

Fuck it. 

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more. 

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more. 

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral. 

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.  

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. 

Fuck. Yes. 

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more. 

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. 

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots. 

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body. 

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now. 

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby. 

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you. 

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you. 

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More. 

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you. 

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line. 

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away. 

Please, he pleads to himself silently. 

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan. 

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. 

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you. 

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. 

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing. 

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. 

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core. 

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him. 

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again. 

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more – 

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height. 

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste. 

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor. 

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now. 

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.  

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now. 

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life. 

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

 “Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him. 

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare. 

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind. 

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time. 

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him. 

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin. 

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless. 

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep. 

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.  

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second. 

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him. 

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you. 

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it. 

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up. 

“Wanna smoke?” 

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own. 

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both. 

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day. 

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with. 

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept. 

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat. 

He wants more. 

And something tells him you do, too. 

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

[pettyprocrastination]

The Revenant Wife

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief and death. 

Summary: Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband. 

Word count: 1.6k

Note: ficlet is based off of this previous post about Joel getting separated from his wife during the outbreak and assuming you died until you find one another years later. Reader is described to look like Sarah. Title came from the ever lovely @djarin-junk​ <3

Tagging those I think would enjoy: @pedrostories​ @thesadvampire​ @joel-mlller @softanon​ @max--phillips​ @captainsamwlsn​ @hooplahoopla​ @moondirti​ 

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Ellie didn’t know that Joel had a wife. 

Granted, she didn’t know much about his old life at all. 

She knew he built things. That he had a brother named Tommy and a daughter named Sarah, but didn’t like to talk about the latter that much. In one fleeting conversation, full of mumbles as her eyes began to close while they rested under the night sky she heard him mention you but was far too gone to truly hear what he said. Nothing more than the vague rumble of his voice saying “my wife” before her eyes opened once more. 

“You’re married?”

She asks with such incredulous shock it sounds more like “somebody married you?” but girls at her age hardly ever have filters. 

“I was.” 

There’s the same bristle in his throat and far off look in his eyes as when she first asked about his daughter. An open answer but one that carries enough unsaid to tell Ellie of your fate. To warn her that she should change the subject or simply shut her mouth and go to sleep before plucking his raw nerve one too many times until he snaps- 

“What was she like?” 

But Joel learned early on that Ellie wasn’t one to follow warnings. 

“Kind.” His breath stutters. “But not a pushover- she didn’t take shit from anybody.” He stares up at the sky, feeling his chest grow tight and fingers twitch by his side until there’s a rustling, the girl next to him rolling over to face him and he turns to find Ellie peeking out from her sleeping bag with a smile. 

Damn this girl. 

“Not even from you?” 

Joel scoffs. “Especially from me. The amount of times she gave me and Tommy and earful-” he shakes his head, Ellie watches a smile grow on his face in silence, as if worried she may frighten it away. 

“Did she cook?” 

Ellie thinks of the stories the older kids would tell her. The ones who remembered life before the Outbreak, who told her of freshly baked pies on weekend and fluffy pancakes in the morning. 

Joel remembers the first time you tried to bake him a cake for his birthday back when he was sixteen. How he opened the door to your forlorn face and a store bought sheet cake in your hands because as your mother told him over the phone, you damn near burned the whole house down trying to bake for him as a surprise. 

“From time to time.” 

There was only so much she could get out of him before his voice became clipped and eyes full of an emotion she didn’t quite know the name of that he told her to get some rest. Leaving her with nothing to do but to stare at the sky and wonder about these stories in the shape of a woman who unveiled a little bit more about the mysterious man she traveled with. 

Of all the silence and secrets that made up the man that protected her, she created stories to fill them. Stories of Joel Miller, husband, father, brother and badass contractor that everybody loved.   Of his soldier brother, of his wife and their smiling daughter between them both. 

In Ellie’s mind, you didn’t work. 

But not in a ditzy lame way like some boring housewife. But just because you didn’t have to. 

Joel said that everybody loved contractors so that means he probably got paid like, a ton of money to build stuff for people so you got to stay at home all day. Ellie imagined your house to be ginormous. Maybe Joel made it himself for you when you guys first got married. It was big enough that when Joel came home everyday he’d call out your name and it’d echo through  the hall as you called him into the kitchen, where your daughter sat reading as you set dinner on the table. Sometimes you’d get upset if he came home late but then he’d kiss your cheek and you would roll your eyes but smile before you all sat down and ate as a family. 

Ellie imagines Joel’s daughter, she wonders if Sarah looks more like her mother than her father. 

Ellie wonders as the sleep takes over her body, if they could have been friends. 

When it happens, months later after she’s come to think of Joel as something akin to family and he thinks of her as something he can’t say out loud just yet, she’s shocked. She’s face to face with a woman holding her at gunpoint that looks nothing like the smiling mother she dreamt of during cold nights. 

You don’t match the stories Ellie made up in your head.

You’re mean. 

No. Mean isn’t the right word. 

Cold. Yes. you're very cold. 

Ellie watches in shock as you ask where they're headed, gun focused on the center of her chest while the two boys at your side point their own at Joel, who has yet to speak. 

She waits for him to answer, but he just stares at you in awe. The same man she’s seen kill and threaten to keep her safe day in and day out is rendered speechless until all he can do is utter your name and she realizes that he knows you. More than that, judging by the way he surrenders his gun to you with no fight, something she had never seen him do. 

You lift your head to look at him, the brim of your hat raises just enough to clear the shadow cast over your face and Ellie can finally see your eyes and the snarl on your face. 

You’re also very pretty.

“I won’t ask again.” 

The two boys standing on either side of you have your eyes. Same color and intensity, narrowed into slits like guard dogs waiting for an order and Ellie sees the way Joel stares at them. 

She wonders if Sarah had brothers. 

“Out west.” He manages. “Takin’ her to her family.” 

Your eyes move to her and she holds her hands higher in the air. 

“That true?” “What?” 

“Is he telling the truth?” 

The taller one, Duke, she had heard you call him, had already ripped the bag from her back and emptied its contents onto the ground, she had nothing else to hide from you. 

But then she sees something in your eyes. A concern for her that she hadn’t seen since Tess or Marlene. 

And she understands. 

“He’s telling the truth.” Ellie forces out. 

You watch her for a moment and there’s a moment of panic where she thinks you can see right through her lie. 

But then you lower your gun and jerk your head over your shoulder. 

“C’mon.” is all you say before you begin to walk away. The boys gawk at you for a moment before you give them a look of warning and they follow in your step, occasionally casting glances behind them at Joel and Ellie who follow suit. 

She’s quick to grab onto the sleeve of Joel’s jacket and pull with a harsh whisper as the other’s march forward. 

“You know this psycho?” 

Joel flinches at her voice as it pitches up. If any of you heard her, which he gathered you did because Ellie didn’t have an inside voice to save her fucking life, you didn’t care enough to react. 

Ellie whispers his name again. Insistent and angry for answers but he just keeps looking forward. He can’t take his eyes off of you or the boys ahead and it fills her with worry but she doesn’t know why. 

“She’s my wife.”

You lead them to a cottage. Its paint is chipping and the fence is reinforced with wiring around the perimeter but it looks like a home. She can vaguely hear the soft clucking of chickens nearby and there's a flash of fur behind the fence with a pair of pointed ears that duck away just as fast as she saw them. 

Ellie has seen the remnants of homes before the outbreak. The plates still stacked in the sink and the jacket still hung up on the hook. A story telling a family that once lived within its walls and is now nothing more than memories that ghosts along its foundation. 

But this one is real. It’s yours. 

 There is a rickety wooden table in the dining room. Each chair around it seems to have been brought from a different house and is varying shades of faded brown. You kick the leg of one and nod toward it.“Sit, both of you.”

Ellie looks to Joel before sitting. He follows suit, choosing the chair closest to her. 

“I’m gonna get some bandages for that leg-” 

Joel shifts forward. “I don’t need-” 

“I wasn’t fucking asking, Joel.” 

You’re not stronger than Joel, if she had to guess. You both look the same age, but she’s seen his strength, his violence, all done for her safety and knows if it came down to it, you might not win in a fight against him. 

But at your order, he sits back in his chair. 

You turn and set a shoulder on your son’s shoulder. 

At least. She thinks he’s your son. 

Softly spoken words are exchanged while the other keeps his eyes on Joel and his hand on his holster. The boy says something back in insistence, but you tilt your head and he nods. 

“If either of them try moving or taking anything.” You offer them one final look over your shoulder before slipping out of the room. “Shoot them.” 

They listen to your footsteps slowly retreat until there’s nothing but the subtle creak and groan of the wood floor beneath them. Ellie leans forward to look at Joel, setting her hands firmly on the dinner table in announcement. 

“Dude-” The young girl breathes out. “Your wife is a bitch.”

[lunitawrites]

Morning Sun - a Joel Miller drabble

summary: Joel wakes up next to you. That's it.

rating: mature

warnings: thoughts of sexual acts, but nothing explicit

a/n: idk, i just want this

Joel wakes up to the dim morning light painting the walls yellow. He takes a second to admire the pattern before he looks down at you.

Your head is rested on his bare chest, your hair fanned out on his tan skin. Your lips are slightly parted, saliva wets the corner of your mouth. He wants to lick it away. You don't snore, but you take deep breaths letting the air out of your lungs with a small sigh.

His gaze takes in your bare back, the sheets bunched up around your waist hiding the curve of your ass, but leaving your naked thighs and calves free.

He slowly takes in the sight, his chest filling with pride that you are his. He is the only one in the world who wakes up tangled in your limbs, he is the only one who is able to smell the mint shampoo on your hair, who is able to see the rising sun with you nestled on his side.

You are his girl. Your mouth is his, when he will kiss you good morning, when you will smile back at him, sleep still fogging your eyes. Your hands are his, when you will accept the coffee from him, that he prepares for you. Plain black, as you like to have it in the morning. Your ankles are his, when he will kiss them sofly, while he buries himself in you, still in the orange light of the morning sun. Your hair is his, when he will lightly stroke it as he cums in you, hugged tightly by your walls. Your throat is his, when you will moan the sweetest sounds for him, while he eats your pussy, the most delicous breakfast he can imagine.

Joel wakes up every day feeling like the luckiest man, if you are by his side.

[ollyolyoxenfree]

stratos lizzie // animalia joel

send an ask requesting two emperors and a season, and ill swap them !!!

[codes-and-stuffs]

so basically

[widows-alliance-but-everywhere]