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freelancearsonist · 28 days

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make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.”

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this.

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in.

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

➔ beta: @fhatbhabie dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

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endlessthxxghts · 22 days

Text

Best I Ever Had

Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 2.3k

Summary: Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

Content/Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, no physical descriptions. Feminine perception of reader and feminine pet names (Joel calls you mama and babygirl), but no pronouns used. Reader's a fucking badass and can hold their own fights (probably Joel's too, tbh). Slight description of reader getting physical/violent with another person (bby has some anger issues). Established relationship. Implied age gap (exact number unspecified). A bit of insecure Joel. 18+ MDNI! Dom!reader !! Sub!Joel !!!! P in V unprotected. Slight breeding kink (reader just likes being filled, no children talk). Joel has a fast refractory period (don't think too much on it, just enjoy). Definitely some overstimulation. Cockwarming. Riding..straddling.. Teasing. Begging. Edging. Sloppy making out. Multiple orgasms. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed that should be up here!

A/N: Some get post-nut clarity, but I get post-nut lust. This was the product of that. Hope you enjoy, my angels. Thank you @honeyedmiller for beta’ing 🩶 also I picture both game Joel or hbo Joel, so it’s entirely up to you what you wanna visualize ;)

masterlist | updates blog

It was a busy night at the Tipsy Bison. Everyone was out. Everyone was mingling, getting to know each other. As if it wasn’t a small town already, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure you really knew the people living in this little forever-town.

Except, Joel was not one to mingle—especially on nights like tonight. Tommy insisted that he come, it’ll be nice, he tried to reason.

He eventually agreed. Not because of Tommy, though, but because of you.

You knew Joel was a certified grump, through and through. And you love Joel, you really do. But the post-apocalyptic world caused you to react differently than your man. Yeah, you’ve become tougher, harder to break, harder to trust. However, you crave any sense of normalcy you can find. So on occasion, you like to go out and get to know the people of the town. You like human interaction.

And when they say opposites attract, the saying couldn’t have been more true. Joel was absolutely smitten the day he met you. It’s been a long time coming between you two—with his vulnerability, or lack thereof, and his initial unwillingness to accept that he can finally relax and unclench his jaw—but you’re together now, stronger than ever, and everything is worth it.

You are worth it.

Which is exactly why all you needed was to give one raise of your brow during his protesting before Joel promptly shuts his lips and takes a defeated breath, fixing his answer to Tommy. “Oh, hell. Alright, brother, we’ll be there.”

And to be quite honest, Joel would go as far to say that tonight’s little get together was actually decent for once. That is, until he sees you waiting on the bartender for his beer and your old-fashioned, and a man—a boy—approaches you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice beside you say. Not realizing it was meant for you, your attention stays on the bartender. Still, the voice persists. “I was thinking, uh-” you look at the guy then, eyes staring him down in a way he perceives as a challenge.

He clears his throat. “I was thinking I could buy you a drink?”

“No, I’m good,” you say shortly. The bartender comes up to you, pulling you away from the guy’s feeble attempt at flirting. You tell the bartender your order, and before you can take another moment to speak, the guy pipes up.

“Put it on my tab,” he smirks triumphantly, taking a closer step to you.

You pull yourself away on instinct— out of disgust, but your eyes stay trained on his gaze. You’re pissed, but this naïve little boy has no idea. Both of what you're capable of and what the older man, your older man, across the bar is capable of.

“Thanks,” you smile, “my boyfriend’s gonna appreciate the free drink,” you tell the guy, turning to Joel and giving him a sweet smile. You’ve been feeling his stare the second this waste of space walked up to you.

Joel would pounce if you told him to. He knows you can handle yourself, though, and you confirm it through that pretty smile you flash him. He can’t deny the way his cock twitches at the way this scene is unfolding. Part of him is begging for the guy to try something more, to test you—to unleash you.

The guy scoffs the second he sees Joel. “That old man is your boyfriend? Come on, baby,” his hand reaches for the crook of your elbow. “You can do so much better than that,” he taunts.

And that was the something more you needed. Immediately your hand takes hold of his wrist, twisting the man to face the bar in a rough fashion as you lean him over the bar counter, his arm twisted behind his back, shoulder ready to snap out of his socket with the tiniest of movements.

“Wanna say that again?” You seethe, knocking the breath from his lungs as you push him into the wooden counter.

“I said—”

He’s cut off by his own high-pitched scream. You push his arm higher, a sharp pain shooting through every nerve center in the guy’s arm.

“Sweetheart,” a southern twang says softly, but it’s not your man. Tommy. “I know he probably deserves it, darlin’, but it’s not worth it,” he says, not wanting to aggravate you more. Everyone knows not to test you.

Well, apparently not everyone.

You roll your eyes, knowing Tommy’s just trying to keep up the liveliness of tonight. “Fine,” you mutter. Leaning closer into the guy, you whisper into his ear. “Talk about my fuckin’ man like that again, and I’ll snap your shoulder so fuckin’ hard, Jackson’s doctors won’t even know what to do with ya. Ya hear me?” You’re not from the South, and before the outbreak, you’ve never even been. But get angry enough, and Joel’s twang possesses you.

You release the crying boy with a shove, and you back up, wanting to pull yourself away from the situation. Your back is met with something hard, and immediately you know who it is. You soften in his touch as his arms immediately wrap around your waist. “You alright, babygirl?” Joel rasps in your ear. You can feel his fucking hard-on pressed against your back.

The guy looks at you and Joel, chest still heaving as his face turns into disgust, a fuck you muttered under his breath, an aftertaste of jealousy on his lips.

Smiling wildly at the guy in front of you, you snake your hand up to wrap around Joel’s jaw before you turn your head back and tilt your head up, pulling Joel into an open-mouthed kiss, your tongue pushing into his mouth as he eagerly sucks it, lapping up your spit. He groans into you, his arms pulling you impossibly tighter into him.

You pull away with a harsh nip to his lip, feeding off the little whimper Joel lets out. “Baby,” he whines.

You look back to the guy, and the silent audience you’ve accumulated. “Come on, cowboy,” you breathe. “I’m not done with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies happily, spinning you two around and walking out with you still pressed against him.

The bar stays quiet after a beat. Tommy’s hand slaps the bar counter before he speaks. “Well. Get the music back going unless y’all wanna hear ‘em goin’ at it all night!” The bar roars in laughter, the music coming back to life.

Before returning back to Maria, Tommy turns to the guy. “You. Out.”

He scrambles without looking back.

“Oh my God, baby.”

“Fuck— I- I can’t, baby, I can’t hold it much longer, baby, I need to come.”

“Just one more second, baby.”

“Mama, please,” he cries out, his head lolling from side to side on his sweat-soaked pillow as you grind your hips into his pelvis, lifting yourself on and off him every other moment. His hands hold onto your hips, not in a way to control your movement but to simply feel you.

“Oh, come on, be a good boy for me, baby,” you moan, your hand fixing itself onto his jaw to make him look at you. “Just wanna feel you twitch inside me a little bit more ‘fore you make a mess inside me, okay?”

“Oh, fuck— yes, yes, mama, yes, okay,” he rambles, trying his hardest to breathe through the pleasurable pain as you take and take and take.

A particular grind sends your back arching, his pubes soaked in your arousal nudging perfectly against your clit, sending an electric pulse up your spine. You cry out in ecstasy, your climax hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck, oh shit- fuckfuckfuck, baby, come with me— come inside me, baby, fucking fill me,” you nearly scream, hoping that boy can hear you now.

“Shit, baby, oh my God- fuck- I’m coming, mama, holy fuck- I-” he stutters, his thigh muscles shaking underneath you as you bounce on him through his climax, the mix of his spend with yours bouncing lewdly across the walls of your shared bedroom.

Your hips come to a slow but never stop, your chest heaving as you lean down to bring your lips to Joel. You let them ghost across his lips, but you don’t let them touch. He knows better not to chase it, not yet, anyway. He can still feel you fuming.

You can do so much better than that.

“Can you fucking believe him?” You whisper against his lips, barely audible yet fucking scary nonetheless.

Joel thinks that boy is right, deep down. Even though he’d never want you to leave him, and you’d never want him to leave you. Joel thinks that there’s a crumb of moral rightness in that statement. But he keeps that to himself.

Nevertheless, you know Joel like the back of your hand. He doesn’t need to utter a lick of anything to you. You already know what he’s thinking.

“Joel,” you say again. “I asked you a question.”

All questions must be answered.

Fuck.

“Y-yeah, baby,” he rumbles, too distracted by the comments from the bar, but mainly still caught up in the way his softening come-covered cock is still nestled inside of you.

You sit up now. A whine leaves his throat at the movement. “So you do believe him?”

Only then does he realize what he said. His eyes shoot up to yours. “W-wait, no, baby, ‘m sorry, no. No, I don’t believe him, baby,” he panics.

You quirk your eyebrow at him.

“The fuckin’ audacity on ‘em,” he adds for good measure.

You’re silent for a beat. Then—

“You’re lying.”

Joel’s heart starts to race. “No, baby. Please. Mama, I’m not lyin’,” he tries.

Still straddling his hips, you grab onto his bicep, pulling upward. He gets the hint and sits up. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly growing to full mast again the longer you sit here.

You’re face to face now. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist, your arms tightly around his neck.

“Look me in my eye,” you whisper, “and tell me you’re the best I ever had.”

Joel audibly gulps.

Slow— so slow, your hips begin to move again. A breathy little moan escapes your mouth, and he lunges forward for you, his tongue dancing along the tip of yours, swallowing your breath. You allow it.

“Tell me,” you groan into his mouth, practically swallowing his tongue as you shallowly bounce yourself on him.

“Baby,” he whines, getting lost in this dance of heat and sweat he’s become utterly addicted to.

You break yourself away from his mouth, not allowing him the option to reach for you anymore. He pulls back, eyes wild and sad. His mouth turned down into a literal pout.

“My poor baby,” you mutter. “Tell me what I wanna hear,” you say again. “Or you’re not getting my lips nor are you coming for the rest of the night,” you tell him, switching back into your grinding motion to stimulate your sensitive bud, letting him feel the way your pussy flutters around him.

“Baby,” he begs again as you grind, your warmth forcing him to another climax. Please don’t make me say it, he’s trying to convince you.

Your fingers find their home at the base of his salt and pepper curls, tugging them in warning. “Tell. Me.”

You force his body down to lay flat on the bed again, towering over him, allowing your body the space to lift yourself off of him, only his tip inside of you. He takes a sharp breath in, knowing what’s coming.

You drop yourself down on him, fucking yourself on his cock at a bruising pace. You grab his hands and drag them up to your chest, wrapping his thick digits around you encouraging him to squeeze.

“Fuck- mama, I’m gonna—”

“No the fuck you’re not, baby,” you moan, lost in the pleasure but still rightfully in charge. “Swear to God, Joel, gonna leave you fucking swollen and pulsing for a fucking week— oh fuck,” you cut yourself off, a familiar sensation building at the base of your spine, sending you convulsing around his length yet again.

Joel’s eyes clamp shut, finally giving into your request so he can finally let go. “I— shit, I’m the—” a rugged moan forces itself out, “—the best you ever had, mama, please, the fuckin’ best, baby,” he cries out, his hips bucking up into you as he covers every inch of you with his spend.

“Shit,” you moan, his words affecting you a lot more than you anticipated, your hips doing overtime, unable to find it within you to stop even as he begins to soften. “Yes, fuck, that’s my boy, shit—” you breathe, “—the fucking best, always make me feel so fucking good, baby.”

His hands finally use their strength, trying his best to slow you with ease, his nerves reaching the point of painful overstimulation. “Alright, baby, alright,” he winces.

Recognizing his limits, you immediately begin to slow, lowering yourself onto his heaving chest. You let him slip out of you this time, giving him an actual break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into his chest.

“For what, baby?” Joel responds with a kiss into your head.

“Did I go too far?”

He couldn’t help the belly laugh that shakes the both of you. You immediately sit back up, your hands on his chest to keep your limp body up. “What?” you glare at him.

“Too far? Which part, darlin’? Nearly breakin’ that guy’s shoulder or my dick?”

A belly laugh erupts out of you this time. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you respond. “...Both.”

“Mmm…” Joel puts on a fake thinking face. “Maybe to the former, but not at all to the latter,” he hums, his hands finding the back of your head to pull you in for a chaste kiss.

You hum into his lips, a smile stretching across your cheeks.

Resting your head on his chest, you let a few moments pass before you speak again. “Tommy’s not gonna invite us to another one of those, huh?”

“Probably not, mama,” he smiles. “Probably not.”

I’d love to hear what you think!! Any feedback or interactions with you all truly brightens my day. So so so much love for you all. Thank you for being here 🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

graphics by @saradika-graphics (middle divider in fic by me)

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pascals-doll · 2 months

Text

like a virgin

joel miller x reader

🫧 inspired by madonnas like a virgin MY MADONNA CONCERT IS COMING UP I-

🫧 i always make my writings for joel so long but i love this man smm i could write all day for him it dont even b on purpose 😩

🫧 description: pre-outbreak!joel, babysitter!reader, reader babysits sarah, semi-fluff, DILF JOEL DILFFF, age gap (joel is 36 and reader is early 20s), smut smut, SMUT SMUTTT, dom!joel, softdom!joel(ugh i need so bad),sub!reader, hella praise kink, reader and joel are obessesed w each other tbh, secret crushing, body worship (reader reciving/ slight joel), pussy eating, possessive!joel, unprotected sex, p in v sex, hair pulling (j recieving), tommy is a teasing p.o.s 😭, no use of y/n, use of nicknames (sweetheart, darlin, and sweet girl).

you stepped into the miller’s residence weekly to babysit his daughter Sarah, she was the sweetest teen girl. she reminded you a bit of yourself when you were her age which was probably the cause of the instant connection.

you had been baby-sitting for almost 8 months now, leading to getting closer to Joel; Sarah’s dad.

Joel was more than a hunk of a man, he towered over you even with your heeled mary-janes at times, his broad build engulfing all his clothing making him look like a slutty construction worker with his roughed up baggy-blue jeans thats sinched around his waist perfectly.

you would be lying if you wouldn’t oogle the man while his attention was pulled onto something else. you would watch the way he talked so sweetly to Sarah, yet when it came to a phone call, his neighbor, a stranger or his brother, Tommy that would occasionally stop by.

Joel would have this assertive and unruly tone underneath that thick southern accent. he was a man that paid close attention in his life which is why he has allowed you to take care of his daughter with so much trust.

you would never know it but Joel cherished you and the things you do.

Joel would show it in very discreet ways, today was a prime a example.

“m’havin a famiy cookout later t’night, why don’t you head on home to rest, so you can come back to enjoy with us.” Joel invitied you with ease as you began to grab your belongings from his coat-rack near his front door.

you grabbed your purse, walking towards the sound of his voice which was right around the corner. Joel was standing in his wide living room.

“it would be more than my pleasure. thank you for everything again. im always very appreciative for sarah and you” you thanked him sweetly, eyes meeting his.

he stood next to his large bookcase that had an assortment of different books, personal objects, some cds/dvds, and his vinyls.

joel picked up a vinyl, sliding out of the slot in the shelving of his bookcase, pulling it out of the envelope, and placing it on the record player.

yet another instance, where you accidentally ogle him.

“the real thank you should be t’ya. im adjustin’ to single parentin’ and ya’ been very accommodatin’, thank you.”

your kind demeanor was the sweetner to his coffee.

you were now home, getting dressed to return to the Miller’s residence.

usually when you’re babysitting, you dressed lazily. you would put on a random shirt and jeans or sweats.

you wanted to cleanup a bit more, knowing it wasnt just going to be you and sarah most of the day; Joel would be there.

you threw on this cute blue floral sundress that was mid-length, it stopped right below your cross necklace.

you finished up by pairing it with white frilly socks with mid-heeled black flats.

you didn’t put much makeup on, only putting the basics before doing any last touch-ups and grabbing your black mini-purse.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

once you arrived, opening the gate and greeting a few of the people that were sitting on the porch before entering through the front door.

the sound of chatter got louder as you walked through his home. you turned around to the corner and his living room was empty but his kitchen was cluttered with different food and grill necessities.

you thought to yourself how they must be outside, you began to walk farther into his home till the back where the sliding door to his backyard was.

you began to slide the door open “oh my!! you came!” sarah squealed out of excitement, she came from restroom door next to the side of his sliding door.

you immediately engulfed the excited girl that ran into your arms “i wouldn’t miss it for the world, girl!” you exclaim while smiling.

“c’mon! my dad is outside grilling!” sarah spoke excitedly. she grabbed your hand as you opened the door and walked outside together.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

“d’ya invite that sweet babysitter of yours?” Tommy asks joel while seasoning the steak “i did, i hope she comes-you know, for sarah and all” Joel tries to play off with his words.

“oh my brother fancy’s someone, i see” Tommy chuckles out, putting his beer bottle up in the air slightly.

“i do not fuckin’fancy that young lady. she’s gone above and beyond for my daughter and i just wanted her to feel welcome” Joel explains himself, his tone laced with angry yet getting his explaination a across a bit hastily. Tommy’s eyebrow quirks.

“don’t say nothin’ else” Joel utters out in a stern tone, grabbing his cold corona as Tommy puts his hands up in defence.

Tommy turned his head, not the best decision as it made his amusement grow fonder. he turns back to Joel.

“well, ya’look at that brother” Tommy slys out, throwing a wink at his older brother before making his way back to his wife Maria.

It was you and sarah approaching, Joel actually choked on his sip of beer.

you were beautiful, Joel wasn’t an oblivious man.

Joel, himself even thought it was impressive how easily you cleaned yourself up by just some jeans and sweatshirt; at times just a shirt.

tonight was different, very different.

Joel finally has seen you outside of your different hoodies and pants.

he couldn’t begin to comprehend as you and sarah got closer and closer “Dad! she made it” sarah calls him out in excitement.

you finally approached him next to his griller which caused him to immediately snap out of his gaze.

Joel gave you his hand to shake “thank you so much for having me” you thank him, sweetly accepting as you began to shake pulling you in for a soft side hug.

you were right beside him, feeling the heat of the fire from the grill on both of you.

in Joel’s eyes, up close, your beauty was now beyond otherworldly. your light blue sundress bringing out the color of your eyes, the way your hair fell on your shoulders, and your jewlery sparkiling the tone of your skin.

you looked so elegant, yet you still managed to keep it simple. your winged liner making you look more mature than just the light mascara you would rush onto your lashes before getting out of your car on babysitting days.

Joel couldn’t begin to wrap it around his mind how you could possibly look so pure yet you were a woman. a hard-working one at that.

he knew that. it was something that made him desire you which felt so wrong.

“anytime, ya deserve to be apart of the family-shit! ya’already are” Joel goes off a bit nervously after ogling you. you gave him a soft smile.

“did’ya need help with the grill?” you quickly perk in as the fire began to sizzle a tad bit louder than usual “ah shit!” Joel exclaims, flipping each of the steak.

“careful now, brother! dont burn ‘em!” Tommy calls out, laughing with a devious smirk as he approaches again with cooler in hand.

Joel grumbled something under his under his breath as he focused on the grill.

“nice to meet you, i’ve heard s’much about you! I’m Joel’s brother, Tommy.” the younger brother introduces himself.

you give him your hand to shake “It is nice to meet the uncle tommy” you joke out causing sarah to giggle with you.

Joel couldn’t begin to explain the beauty you carried within you.

he was sure that if a god made you, it was Hestia and Aphrodite.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

the evening was pleasantly spent by you getting to meet maria and her pregnant belly, congratulating her.

then once it was time to serve the dinner, you helped Joel and Tommy by moving the grilled food off of the grill.

this consisted of Tommy making jokes that had slight insinuating under-tones that you were too naive to pick up but laugh everytime Joel would punch Tommy’s shoulder roughly, not being playful at all.

you helped bring in the food as sarah set up the dining table. once everything was set up and everyone sat down to eat, Joel’s grilling being beyond splendid.

when dinner was over while everyone cleaned up, you went to use the restroom.

you finished using up the restroom which is how you were now in Joel’s living room.

you began to admire his large bookcase from where he stood earlier to invite you.

you skimmed through, your hands softly going over the objects as you observed his books, framed pictures, his collection of dvds, and then his vinyls.

you had a record player of your own, sometimes sarah would ask you to play bon jovi and tell you where the record was.

Joel had an impressive collection, ranging to every genre of music. he had some legends on vinyls like Bob Marley, Johnny Cash, Lionel Richie, and Madonna.

you immediately picked up the Madonna vinyl, it was her second album ‘Like a Virgin’.

you grew up with your mom adoring Madonna more than anything which explains your adoration for her music.

“I was in highschool when i first heard Madonna” a deep voice spoke through the room, behind you.

you automatically knew it was Joel, turning around still looking at the tracklist on the back of his vinyl “this is my favorite album besides Like a Prayer” you say as you walk up to him, smiling.

“you weren’t even born yet” Joel laughs out causing you to jokingly get offended.

“excuse me, i know my Madonna” you joke back, giving him a playful wink which he just gave you a slight chuckle too.

“she say she know she Madonna, ay?” he gives you a slight smile, opening up his record player before inserting the vinyl.

soon enough the record player began to ring a classic 80s pop beat through the room.

you automatically felt yourself slightly popping your leg with the beat and snapling your fingers slightly.

“go ahead, Mr.80s” you state smiling, inviting him to dance “oh no, i-don’t dance” Joel quirks out awkwardly, now standing nervous.

Joel admired your confidence and comfortabilty in your skin, you were so young and full of life while also being so sophisticated and methodical.

you grab Joels hands and began to playfully sway with him.

Oh, like a virgin

Touched for the very first time

Like a virgin

When your heart beats next to mine

🫧

you sang the melodious lyrics under your breath. you felt your breath hitch as you locked eyes with joel, being in his grasp.

you could feel your body burn up in his strong hold, his heavy hand on the small of your waist.

your breath hitched causing your chest to push up against his chest. this felt so right, the way his hands held your body and each of your curves.

🫧

You're so fine, and you're mine

Make me strong, yeah, you make me bold

Oh, your love thawed out

Yeah, your love thawed out

What was scared and cold

Joel made you feel more than a woman, you were so polish and refined, yet so sophisticated and mature while all-looking ever so young and full of life.

he felt a bit of confidence which made him twirl you around, engulfing you into his embrace again with one arm; your back to his chest now.

you swore the sound of the song was slowly drowning out and now the sexual tension was ringing through the both of you.

you could feel his heartbeat thump against your back as his hands rubbed both sides of your waist to the rythem of your delicate sways.

you leaned your head back against his chest, his scent being the only thing on your mind.

you felt him begin to caress your hair with one hand as it left your waist.

“you’re s’beautiful, hope y’know that” Joel could blame it on his 5 beers but 5 beers wasn’t shit for Joel, he was very conscious of his choices.

the compliment sent shivers down your spine as you swore your knees grew limp momentarily.

you turned around, your thigh now inbetween one of his legs, chests pressed against each other, his hands gripping your hips now, and faces inches away from each other.

your lips were parted, you really were debating on kissing the beautiful hunk of a dad infront of you.

fuck it

just like that, within no time your lips were moving like you both had never kissed anyone before.

the song continuing to play as the both of you makeout in his living room while everyone was outside.

the way his hands ran through all of your body like he had never touched anyone, your lips pulling away to catch your breathe momentarily like you had never been kissed like that before.

Joel completely ravished you.

hell…now that he had you, he wasn’t gonna let go now.

“m’room darlin’” he mutters against your lips, before completely scooping you up bridal style. it caught you slightly off guard, gasping which made Joel smack your ass playfully.

“oh, aren’t you a gentleman?” you joke, your arms were wrapped around his neck.

“oh, don’t’cha worry sweetheart” Joel smirks out as you arrived to his room.

he laid you on his bed, going down with you while on top of you. he began to move his lips from kissing you to your neck, pulling down the small straps that held your dress.

each kiss that Joel placed on your body felt like a burning sensation, making your insides erupt with giddiness.

you felt like this was your first time all over again. your mind was racing, heart was nervous, and body was clamy.

and it was all because of Joel.

you weren’t sexually active at all recently, you were so busy with work, about to graduate with your masters, and even babysitting sarah; spending more time at the Millers than on dates.

you did go out but lord were the guys of this generation a bunch of sluts.

“what’s on your mind? am i doin’ somethin’ wrong?” Joel’s rushes out accidentally, not wanting to sound nervous but he did.

you weren’t only one feeling like a bad teenager doing this for the first time.

Joel smelled your perfume and that was all it took to get his mind racing. he couldn’t begin to fathom how he finally got to have you.

the way his big frame craddled yours sent him into overdrive, his heart going a million miles per minute as he tries to figure out where to even begin.

for you, it might’ve been a year but for him, it was almost like ages with the years he’s gone.

all Joel’s mind could do was think of all the things he could do to you.

“Joel-hmph” you couldnt help but whine out as his hands massaged closer and closer to your arousal.

“there there sweet girl, you ever been with a man?” Joel asks, lifting your dress up, exposing your angelic white panties.

Joel was damned forsure for the filthy thoughts you provoked out of him.

“n-no, i have never—they were idiots.” you felt so small under him, feeling overwhelmed like it was your first time all again.

at this point, you could’ve considered yourself a virgin with how Joel had you and how much of a man he was.

“you ain’t gon’go lookin’ f’someone to take care of that pretty lil’mind, not after im done with’ya.” Joel claims to you.

you believe every single word laced in his southern accent; making your cunt pulsate wantingly.

“is that what you want to do, Joel? take care of me?” you ask him, lifting your leg to spread yourself open more as you wrap it around his lower waist; basically resting on his thick thigh.

the way you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. it was a genuine question, laced with purity and hope.

“if you’ll allow me too-” Joel began, pulling down your panties. you expected him to unbuckle his belt next but no; he got on his knees.

your chest weighed up and down heavily, each of his touch making your body hot.

“it’s my only wish for taking care of me and sarah” Joel finishes before hooking both of your legs up onto his shoulders, his tongue wasting no time.

you didn’t even get a chance to respond, a moan erupting out of you being the only thing.

the way he ate your pussy like he didn’t just eat a whole meal downstairs had your back already arching.

Joel’s tongue swiped along all of your cunt, fucking your sweethole “jesus, ya’taste fuckin’ delicious” Joel mumbles against your pussy as his tongue quickens all along your juiced cunt.

“ahmph!” your shriek sounding like music to his ears, if he didnt have his family downstairs, he’d have you screaming.

“quiet fa’me, doll” he says, taking a hand to cover your mouth as before diving back in.

joel’s tongue fucks into your hole this time causing you to let out a muffled moan against his big hand.

the way that man was eating your pussy, tainting your pussy with his spit, marking it all as his drove you insane. there wasnt nothing this man couldn’t do.

“god! j-joel!” you muffle out, your hands go to his roughed up brown hair, pulling on it causing him to groan into your dripping pussy.

you felt yourself getting closer and closer, your pussyhole squeezing around the tip of his tongue.

“this pussy s’perfect- s’all fuckin’ mine.” Joel spits out once he pulled away from your pussy, denying you of your orgasm.

your mouth was agape in pleasure but then quickly falling into a pout “don’t worry darlin’, my baby will cum…on my dick” Joel’s voice is sweet like honey now as he leaned down to connect your lips together.

you taste yourself on his lips, mixture of his spit along his lips causing you to moan at the mix of both of your filth fogging your mind.

the way both of your lips moved in sync perfectly was beyond intoxicating for joel. he swore he could get addicted to just at the look of you but at this point, both of your lips had him drunk.

he had shimmied and kicked off his pants while making-out with you. he was completely taking over you once again, your body turning small under his big one.

“are you ready, sweetheart?” joel asks delicately, pulling away from your lips to look at your eyes.

you told him yes, leaning up to take his shirt off which he happily obliged.

you had only seen his toned arms but it was obvious he had a strong build. he might’ve not had a six-pack but lord were his muscles chiseled like a greek god.

“you gon’ drool over an old man?” joel utters out, his hand going in to caress your hair.

“oh baby, you’re beyond fine wine.” you whisper. your forehead’s connected, lips away from kissing, and looking him deep in his chocolate eyes.

Joel could feel his breath hitch at what you said, you already had him wrapped around your finger as he worshipped you.

Joel thrusted himself into you, he couldn’t even fucking believe how tight you were.

“jesus- god, this pussy s-ah fuck!” joel’s groan was almost animalistic as your mouth fell as if you wanted to scream but nothing came out.

Joel’s cock was a size you’ve never had before, it didnt hurt but oh, did it stretch.

“s’big-oh my!” you moan out loudly, eyes rolling back at the feeling of him delectably stretching your pussy out.

“you got it baby, you got it” he praises you although he was too busy trying not too pass-out because of your cunt.

after a small moment of adjusting for the both of you, he began to thrust into you at a slow pace.

you arch into him as your whimpers and soft moans turn slowly work their way up to louder and heavier moans.

joel worked himself into you, his mind not being able to get enough of all of you. he still had to process that he really had a young beautiful woman with the heart of a home in his bed.

joel completely held your body with one hand, eventually putting a hand over your mouth again once his sweet thrusts turned into pounds.

your body shaking against his with each of his rough and hard thrusts, fucking your name out of your mind and replacing it wirh his.

your muffled little cries of his name “Joel! joel-ah! j-j! j-joel!” sounding like a sweet lullaby to him. he couldn’t help but smirk at your teary eyed-self.

you werent even worried about ruining that pretty liner of yours as he fucked into you.

“shh my baby, you’re taking me so well” joel coos out, caressing you hair before leaning down to plant kisses and suck on your chest.

your hands grip his bed sheets as your body begins to shake in pure sensual bliss that joel brought you, making your mind fog up as the build up of your orgasm is almost virginal.

“ya’look so beautiful like this-” praises left joel’s lips left and right, loving and indulging in every single one of his praises as he fucked you to your orgasm so sickeningly good; leaving the both of you intoxicated.

“you was made fa’me, not no one else.” Joel’s eyes were shut now, completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

it was almost like a prayer, a hopeful chant, almost a possessive plead.

joel had wanted you just as much as you wanted him “yes! god yes! m’close! it’s y-yours! all yours!” your pleasure-filled babbles as your mind gets drunk of joels cock and overwhelming orgasm.

“let go, darlin’ ” Joel works you through your orgasm, hips going from pistoling into you to the delicate pace he started off with.

your entire body shook as both of your sweaty hot bodies embraced each other through both of your orgasms.

the room filled with heavy pants and moans as his hand left your mouth and began to massage your hair.

you both held each other, not wanting to let go of each other.

“i understand what madonna meant by ‘like a virgin’ now” you giggle out causing a playfully scoff to come from him.

“alright alright, we need t’get dressed and head back down. would ya’ want to stop by tomorrow after i drop sarah off at school?” joel asks, his chocolate eyes now ridden of lust and replaced with soft hope.

you were about to tell him yes but another voice spoke before you.

“are you fucking done?! fuck! i can’t keep stalling Sarah and Maria!” it was Tommy.

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coryosbaby · 1 year

Note

will you make a masterlist for all of your fics?

ITS FINALLY HERE !! Get ur vibrator & a bucket of popcorn for this wild ride 😁 It’s probably not everything but it’s most, srry :( some r drabbles, some r not

There will be more to come!

Bunny’s Masterlist ♡

Warning: contains 18+ themes

(read content warnings pls!!)

Scream (Ethan Landry, Chad Meeks Martin, Amber Freeman):

Perv! Sub! Neighbor Ethan with bimbo! Reader (smut)

Camp Counselor! Ethan Landry bending you over a picnic table and fucking you raw (smut)

Sub! Ethan and bimbo! Reader going down on each other <3 (smut)

Fucking stepbrother! Ethan Landry on a camping trip (smut)

Subby himbo Ethan (smut)

Ultraviolence- Stepbrother! Ethan Landry feat. Chad Meeks Martin (not completed yet) (mostly smut w/plot)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Sub! Chad meeks Martin only wanting to please you (smut)

Mutual masturbation with stepbrother! Ethan (smut)

Somnophilia with stepbrother! Ethan (smut)

Getting caught being with Stepbrother! Ethan Landry (angst)

Lactation kink with Ethan (smut)

Ethan marking you with his cum (smut)

Getting punished by Ethan and Chad (smut)

Service top Chad with sub! Ethan and reader (smut)

Ethan tied up and overstimulated (smut)

Knifeplay with sub! Ethan (smut)

Pegging Ethan (smut)

Chad and bimbo! Reader teaching sub! Ethan how to give head (smut)

Bimbo! Reader using a fleshlight on sub! Ethan (smut)

Sub! Ethan Headcannons (smut)

Dom! Reader with sub! Ethan and brat! Chad (smut)

Helping sub! Ethan relieve stress (smut)

Overstimulating sub! Ethan while riding him (smut)

Blowing Ethan in his knight costume (smut)

Perv! Ethan x bimbo! Reader (smut)

Somnophilia with Stalker! Ethan (smut)

Soft dom! Ethan and soft sex (smut)

Ethan with bimbo! Reader Headcannons (smut)

Chad and Ethan taking turns with sub! Reader (smut)

Sub! Ethan getting rimmed & pegged (smut)

Knifeplay with Amber Freeman (smut)

“stepbrother I’m stuck” trope with Ethan (smut)

Ethan wearing your underwear <3 (smut)

Dark! Ethan Landry Headcannons (smut)

Vampire! Ethan Landry x Werewolf! Chad Meeks Martin x reader (smut)

Outer Banks (Rafe Cameron, Pope Heyward, Barry)

Obx Porn Links

Dark! Rafe Cameron Headcannons (sfw & nsfw)

Best friend! Rafe taking your virginity (smut)

Sub! Rafe (smut)

Rafe with a crazy reader (mentions of sex)

Rafe brainrot (smut)

Stepbrother! Rafe comforting reader (hinted smut, fluff)

Barry with bimbo! Reader Headcannons (smut involved)

Gunplay with dom! Barry (smut)

Spiderman! Pope hcs (sfw & nsfw)

Barry kidnapping cameron! Reader (smut)

Dark! Rafe Headcanons (smut + sfw)

Florida Kilos— Rafe Cameron x fem! Best friend! Reader (smut w/ plot)

Part 1

Predator/pray kink with rafe (smut)

stepbro! Rafe fluff :)

Fear Street (Tommy Slater and Nick Goode)

older! Nick Goode + fucking you in his office (smut)

Kissing Tommy for the first time (no smut)

Sweet Serial Killer - Younger! Gf! Nick Goode x reader

Part 1

The Hunger Games (Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Sejanus Plinth, Reaper Ash)

fucking switch! Finnick in the arena while everyone watches (smut)

Coriolanus with a breeding kink and an escort! reader (smut)

Virgin! Coryo fucking Sejanus’ girl (smut) pt 2.

angsty reaper ash blurb (smut)

Sejanus + size kink blurb (smut)

coryo + jealous reader blurb (smut)

Cowboy! Coriolanus au (smut)

Angst + dark coryo & plinth! Reader (smut)

munch coryo x maid! Reader (smut)

virgin! Coryo blurb (smut)

Sub! Coryo fucking his way up to the top (literally) (smut) pt 2

The Last of Us (Joel Miller)

Somnophilia with dark! dbf! Joel + grinding (smut)

Avatar (Jake Sully)

size kink with Jake (smut)

House of the Dragon (Aegon Targaryen)

sub! Aegon with Aemond’s wife (smut)

Halloween Series (Corey Cunningham)

blurb of giving Corey head <3 (smut)

The Lost Boys (Star)

a cozy night with star <3 (smut)

Spider-Man (Miguel O’Hara)

Miguel taming you (smut)

American Psycho (Patrick Bateman)

Patrick x trad goth! Bimbo! Reader (smut with some complicated feelings)

Saw (Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young)

night terrors and handjobs (smut with angst)

mark coming home to his lover (smut)

Cockwarming with Mark + a threeway with Strahm (smut)

a little psycho! Fem! Reader x Adam blurb (smut)

dom! Adam (smut)

yandere! Mark blurb (smut)

eating out dom! Amanda (smut)

Hayden Christensen (Anakin Skywalker)

spanking with modern! Punk! Anakin (smut)

Insatiable (aka, dbf! Neighbor! Anakin and his many affairs with you) — masterlist (smut with plot)

Dbf Anakin! + flashing + milkshakes = fucking (smut)

Anakin x overwhelmed reader blurb (smut)

Anakin + reader with bad memory (fluff)

Dbf! Anakin + religious reader (smut)

Queen of the Damned (Lestat De Lioncourt)

bath scene with sub! Lestat & reader (smut)

Fnaf (Mike Schmidt)

Mike nsfw headcanons (smut)

small lil Mike x succubus blurb (smut)

#bunny’s masterlist ੈ✩‧₊˚#masterlist #outer banks #obx #scream #scream 6 #scream iv #ethan landry #Chad meeks Martin #rafe Cameron #barry (outer banks)#p. links

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youcancallmeelle · 6 months

Text

She’s got a boyfriend anyway…

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Word count: 7K

Warnings: Semi public sex, Missionary, Cowgirl, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Sneaking around, Secret relationship, Brief David mention, Ellie being a menance, Tommy trying to play matchmaker.

Summary: Tommy has been trying to set Joel up for AGES, he’s got other interests.

You and Joel have secretly been seeing each other.

A03

Read below…

Life in Jackson is promising, nearly a year and half here and Joel feels comfortable, no longer itching for a way out of civilisation because he’s just not used to that no more. Ellie is settled too - finally. She’s attending school three days a week, enjoying the new responsibilities that come with being sixteen and the tad bit of freedom it brings. She helps out at the stables, in the kitchen too but she’s not a fan. She likes being in the library most, checking in and out books, tidying shelves, using her art to create eye catching displays aimed at the younger generation of Jackson.

Joel is proud, his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest all the time. Ellie is still full of wit and charisma that comes out in curses and daft puns that make Joel roll his eyes and get her in a headlock until she’s laughing so hard she’s pink in the face.

There’s times when she skips school completely if a male teacher has subbed in, she flinches away if someone comes too close and sometimes if it’s stew night at dinner, she’ll stare blankly into her bowl at the chunks of meat and see a severed ear, she’ll try to swallow but gag instead. These are nights Joel gives her his bread and Tommy will too, then he’ll make her a fruit salad when they get home with a little double cream poured over it.

The nightmares are persistent on these bad days where triggers occur, he finds Ellie in bed screaming and thrashing multiple times a week. She’ll sob and cry hoarsely as he holds her, hushing her gently and resting his cheek on her head. Most of the time she’ll fall back asleep with him beside her, curled into him like she did back at Silver Lake when death was close.

But mostly, everything’s okay.

Joel had been with Tommy every single day this week so far and it was Thursday evening, they’d been focusing on fixing up the bathroom in a house way further down from his, they were getting it ready for a family that had expanded to move in. The floor was rotten and the pipes wrecked, neither of them were particularly fond of plumbing but they sorted it between them. There was still the kitchen to do but that was a job for tomorrow and probably Saturday too but not Sunday, that was his day with Ellie.

Sunday’s were for late breakfasts of bacon and pancakes - before and after the world ended. The only thing that changed was the kid for Joel, he used to serve Sarah indulgent breakfasts on a Sunday and they’d do something together and the tradition was carried on with Ellie and Sarah remained tucked in his heart.

Tired and stiff from working hunched over all day, Joel was enjoying a quiet drink with Tommy. They were tucked away on a small table with two stools, Joel would have preferred something with a back but beggars can’t be choosers; he was grateful for the cold glass of bourbon nearly empty in front of him and the sound of Dire Straits playing over the old speakers.

As always, Tommy is picking and prying into his lack of a love life. Since he’s noticed his older brother being more settled within the community, he’d been trying his hardest to set him up with various women and Tommy Miller was nothing if not persistent.

At this point in the day, Tommy’s voice is almost just white noise.

“Cath is nice.” Tommy pointed out, Joel snorts.

“She’s also gay, Tommy.”

“Oh shit, really? I didn’t know.”

“Clearly. Can we please stop talking about this? It’s the same thing every fuckin’ time I come drinking with you.” Joel begs, Tommy sighs heavily but drops it for now.

Joel takes in the scenery as he sits there, grateful for the moments silence from Tommy. His eyes stray to the left of the table and he listens as you speak to Denton, an older gentleman in his late sixties with a love of horses. He’s quizzing you about the new mare in the stables, he hears you mention checking on her again after your shift because she’s been particularly temperamental since she was brought in from outside but you’ve developed a nice bond with her, she’s slowly becoming more trusting.

It occurs to Joel that everyone likes you - literally everyone, even Ellie and she was a tough nut to crack. You’re sweet, soft spoken yet confident. You’re always helping out where you can; on patrols, stable duty, in the communal garden, sometimes at the school and also here at the bar when Darius needs his shift covered.

You find good things on patrol and give them to Joel or Ellie before taking the rest for the community, so they get first pick of everything.

You’re just the sweetest thing.

Tommy sees you and beckons you with a friendly wave, you mutter a goodbye to Denton and pat his hand.

“Hey.” You hear your name called over the music and you turn as Tommy Miller grabs your attention as you scoop up two glasses and an empty bowl that once held nuts and dried berries from the table two away from his and Joel’s.

“Yes, Miller?” You patter over with your hands occupied, you sneak a look at his older sibling, sparing him a wink as a greeting, he smirks softly back.

“Has Darius got an other fuckin’ music or are we strictly limited to the sounds of 1985 tonight?” He questions and you laugh, shaking your head.

“You don’t like Dire Straits?”

“He doesn’t appreciate good music.” Joel interjects, shaking his head at Tommy.

“I do - but other music. Eminem or even fuckin’ Britney! Anything but this shit.” Tommy groans, tossing his head back.

“Keep talking smack about Dire Straits, Miller - and I’ll snitch to your wife about the fact you’ve switched patrols with Mark twice this week because you were too hungover to go.” You smile sweetly at Tommy, tilting your head.

“Snitches get stitches.” Tommy remarks playfully, not an ounce of malice in his dark brown eyes and your eyebrows rise, you beam back.

“That right? Well, troublesome men get barred for life.”

“Oooooh.” Joel chimes in, looking amusedly between you and his younger brother.

“Touché.” Tommy quips, folding his arms.

“Tell you what, next time I’m in, I’ll have a rummage out back and see if I can find you some Britney. Bless you.” You pinch his cheek as you walk past and he swats your hand, rubbing the spot while Joel laughs.

“You’re pushing your luck giving her lip, I’m not sure if you’re aware but this is the only operational bar in Wyoming.”

“Tell me about it.” He grumbles back, Joel shakes his head once more as the door behind Tommy on the back wall opens.

“Joeeeeeel?!” He hears yelled from close by, he looks up and sees Ellie dragging her sneakers across the floor, scouring the bar for him with her honey coloured eyes eagerly. She spots him within seconds, beaming and practically skipping over to him and Tommy in the corner. “There you are, I looked fucking everywhere for you.” She groans dramatically, throwing her head back. “I wanna go out, I’m bored shitless at home. There’s nothing for me to do and yes - I’ve done my school work.” She quickly adds.

“You done those quadratic equation questions we were going over last night?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Yep. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, though I did ask my teacher because I’m pretty sure you were figuring them out wrong. You were, by the way.” Joel puffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. Ellie spins to Tommy, the soles of her shoes squeaking. “Can I try that?” She’s laser focused on the bourbon swimming between globes of ice in Tommy’s glass.

“What have I said the last twenty times you’ve asked, El?” Tommy’s dark brows are high on his forehead, his mouth is twisted with hidden laughter. Ellie rolls her eyes with annoyance, sloping over to Joel now.

“No.” She huffs, swinging her lanky arms around Joel. She hums and rubs her face into his shoulder bone, resting there for a second before her attentions shifts comically fast. There’s a warmth that spreads through Joel every single time she does this, she’s so casual about it and he’s drawn the conclusion that it’s a teenage thing because Sarah was the same. There’s a sadness that blossoms too, a darkness that twists and anchors in his chest as he thinks of her and who she’d be now. He can’t dwell for too long, not now - he did that for too long.

At one dark point in time, human connection was not key to survival, hence why he always kept Tess at arms length and then referred to Ellie as cargo until one snowy day it became apparent she was no longer cargo when she was frenzied and panting in his arms, splattered with the blood of a predator and gasping like she was taking her last breath. The sound haunted him for a long time, all memories of Sarah hitting him like a freight train. He had to protect Ellie, the minute he drew her in - oh baby girl - and held her tightly, wrapped in his coat and clinging to him just as hard.

Ellie’s his kid now. She’s his. He’s hers. They’re a family. Ellie Williams Miller - that’s how she’s known now. It’s scrawled on her school books. The love he feels for this human tornado in sneakers is unmatched, the one thing he’s ever been truly good at has been restored and it’s a role he knows well; being a father.

Sure, this teenager that he’s raising is the furthest from bubblegum pink and Avril Lavigne she could be, she’s particularly jagged around the edges and does have the temperament of an unsocialised cat that will bite if you get too close.

He looks down at her, rubbing into him like she’s trying to get his smell on her because it’s comforting and she feels safe and feels his heart ready to burst.

Of course the sweet moment of affection is shattered when Ellie yawns directly into his fucking ear because why wouldn’t she?

He grunts when she bears most of her weight on his aching shoulders, leaning easily into him and twisting her small fingers into his flannel.

“So? Can I go or not?” She presses.

“Go where?” He prompts, raising his eyebrow.

“Toni’s from school. Her cat had kittens a few weeks ago and they’re starting to play. Five of them, Joel! That’s a lotta kittens!” Ellie enunciates, brown eyes wide and Joel can’t help the smile that graces his otherwise tired face.

“You mean a litter?” He corrects and Ellie pauses, frowning.

“Huh?”

“A bunch of kittens is a litter, Ellie.” He informs her and she somehow manages to frown even more, she makes a noise like she’s computing the new information.

“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles, Tommy snorts in amusement. “So I can go see them?” She presses, shifting her weight again and Joel groans louder now, unhooking her arms from his shoulders with a quiet ‘don’t do that, baby’ that’s full of affection.

“Yes but you’re back at nine latest, okay? Nine. I’ll be waiting for you, the minute those street lamps turn on, you’re home.” Joel says, Ellie’s mouthing along to his instructions that he’s been laying out since Summer began and the evenings stretched longer. “Be good.” He speaks more softly now and she nods, he presses a kiss to the side of her head, her eyelashes flutter happily as the warmth blossoms in her too with the security that’s Joel Miller.

“Peesh. I’m always good. Bye Tommy!” She says excitedly, fist bumping him when it’s offered.

“See ya, squirt.” Tommy replies but before he’s even voiced his reply, Ellie’s hurrying away and knocking into a patron while waving to you on the way out of the door so hard it slams. Joel sighs, thinking she’s a literal hurricane.

The door hinge has barely stopped shaking before Tommy starts with the suggestions of suitors once more.

“What about Myleene?” Tommy proposes, Joel shakes his head quickly, downing the remainder of his drink.

“Too young.” He replies.

“She’s twenty five.”

“Too young.” He repeats firmer this time.

“Okay, fine. What about Michelle? She’s what forty? I was talking to her in the cobblers the other day, she’s definitely interested - mentioned something about making you a pie?”

“I’m good.” He grumbles looking down into his empty glass but quickly shifting his gaze to the bar, you’re leaning on your elbows, laughing heartily with a patron.

You look beautiful tonight - just like every other night. Your shoulders are sunkissed, your cheeks a little flushed and skin glowing from the summer humidity. He absorbs the way your hair tumbles down your shoulders and the way the thin straps of your tiered sundress slip down occasionally, only to be tugged back into place with dexterous fingers.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” Tommy jibes, Joel looks over with a firm scowl.

“What?” He asks, Tommy shakes his head.

“You can dream, brother.” Joel rolls his eyes, trying to act nonchalant. “She’s got a boyfriend anyway.” Tommy adds, Joel eyes him with full attention.

“A boyfriend?” He asks, trying to be sure he heard right.

“Yeah, overheard her talking to one of the girls in the garden a few days ago. Didn’t mention no names but she definitely said she was seein’ someone.” Tommy shrugged, Joel hummed with interest. “Anyway, it don’t matter because she’s way out of your league.”

“Thanks.” Joel retorts, sneaking one last look before focusing on the door behind Tommy, the one Ellie had not long barrelled in and out of just moments ago.

He wonders about the kittens she mentioned and gulps as he imagines her taking to one with its big eyes and soft paws, his mind is pulled back to a time in April when he’d come downstairs one morning to a sink full of tad poles she’d ‘rescued’ from birds out of the neighbours pond.

Basically, his girl can’t resist animals she deems too vulnerable to leave.

“Scared Ellie’s gonna come home with one of them kittens?” Tommy wonders, reading Joel’s mind.

“Terrified.”

********************************************

The sun is setting in bursts of burnt orange and marigold by the time he leaves Tommy to his own devices at the bar, he hazards a look around as he makes his way in the complete opposite direction to his and Ellie’s house.

He slinks around the back of the school house, slithering through the gap and walking up the winding path that leads to the stables. He climbs the short fence and hops to the other side, his boots kick up the dust from the dirt path and the crickets chirp beneath the skyline.

With one more look around, he opens to rear door to the stables and slips inside, shutting it softly behind him.

Immediately he hears the horses further down huff and puff, he can make out the swish of their tails hitting the walls as they munch on hay, there’s a neigh that is absolutely Shimmer kicking up a fuss about something.

He slopes around the riding gear and sees you leaning against the wall, hands behing your back. You grin.

“Took your time, cowboy. Was beginning to think you couldn’t take the hint and stood me up.”

“Never, honey.” Joel prowls towards you, ready to grab you. “Missed you.”

“You just saw me.”

“Not the same.” He yanks you close like a man starved, you’d shared company less than 24 hours ago but you greet and leave each other like it’s the last time you’ll ever be together. It’s the apocalypse affect, you know that, he does too

This arrangement had been going on for almost two months now, all started by a late night patrol together where you’d shared more about yourselves in an eight hour shift than both of your time in Jackson combined. There was an instant attraction, it was so easy to talk to one another and that’s what you did every single time you were partnered together and it became the highlight of your day. It started innocently and friendship had bloomed, then before you knew it you were sharing a rum laced thermos of tea with him in the bed of a truck and kissing him with reddened cheeks shortly thereafter. You’d first slept together in the same truck, just as dawn began to break. It was clumsy and quick but you couldn’t get enough of one another. You hadn’t cum but Joel promised next time would be better which lead to the question of next time? You’d been seeing each other most nights since.

Any chance you got, you were together. Nobody knew about you both, hence why Tommy was incessantly trying to hook Joel up with other women around town and jealousy burned as you listened in on their one sided conversations in the bar whenever you were covering for Darius.

You’d left the bar shortly before Joel had, waving farewell to him and Tommy, coming straight up here to check on the mare just as you’d told Denton. This was a usual spot to meet Joel, it wasn’t your first rodeo in the stables with him. It was the one place you could be alone after a certain time.

“Were you hiding from me, honey? Hmm?” He growls playfully, pulling you to him even though you were barely a millimetre away in the first place. You hum in response, so utterly lost in him. You’re nuzzling his throat, fisting his shirt, desperate for his attention. “God, you look so good today.” He murmurs, mouth finding yours. You moan softly, standing on your tip toes and kissing him in a way that makes his lungs and loins burn alike. His grey tinged moustache prickles your upper lip beautifully, his beard feels familiar beneath your soft hands.

He’s crowding you and guiding you backwards, kissing you hotly in a sense that makes your cunt throb eagerly. You moan into his mouth when he nips your bottom lip, squeezing the left cheek of your ass.

You love when he’s like this - playful and easy. He feels lightyears younger around you, it’s like the heaviness dissipates the moment he’s in your company. He loses himself in the way you smell, the way your hair feels when his fingers are entwined between the sun kissed strands, the way in which your eyes sparkle with mischief.

It’s easy to pull him towards the back of the stable, where the bales of hay were stacked created a nice wall of privacy. You’d been in here a couple of times with him, having gone as far to stash a flannel blanket in one of the cupboards to lay down as to protect you both from the cold floor and the prickle of loose hay.

Once behind the hay and seated on a bale with you in his lap, strong hands are moving the thin straps of your sundress down your shoulders, you momentarily break away from his mouth to aid the removal of your dress to your waist where Joel roughly bunches it up so that your underwear is now on show and so are your tits.

His eyes light up at your bare chest, like he hasn’t seen your breasts countless times before. One thing among many that you first noticed was that Joel Miller is a tit man through and through. His rough and work toughened hands cup them both gently before his tongue swirls around your left nipple.

“Joel.” You murmur, arching into him, rolling your hips into his. He’s hard already, age not affecting him like that in the slightest. He’s a hot blooded male, every single inch a man and that warms you to your core. You grab his hand, bringing it to the top of your panties and he slides it in without hesitation.

“Christ.” He curses, exploring your lips with his fingertips, gliding through the dewy wetness gathered there and coming back up for a split second to drag it over your clit roughly. You whimper, bucking into his hand. “Mmm, babydoll.” Joel huffs against your cheek in a hot pant, repeating the action.

“Need you so badly, Joel. Almost got started without you.” You confess.

“Fuck. You can’t- don’t say shit like that, honey.” He growls lowly, unbelievably hard beneath you. His fingers explore again, you aid his explorations by canting your hips just so.

Joel is eager to get things moving, he’s hard and frustrated, he has a beautiful woman in his lap and the perfect setting. He pulls his hand from your underwear, looking down to see the shine of you on him. He loses his mind when you take his hand and lead it to your mouth, sucking the tips of his index and middle finger as he watches with eyes blown wide; they look black instead of the earthy brown that sometimes melts into caramel or runny honey.

The minute you hum like a content cat, he has you lifted off his lap and braced against him. You squeal at the sudden shift, the ceiling looking closer than the floor but then he gently lays you back on the blanket and settles between your legs.

“Hey, who was Tommy trying to set you up with?” You blurt, Joel pauses.

“Cath.”

“She’s gay.” You frown.

“Michelle too.” He adds before diving down into your chest, pressing your breasts together, mouthing at the swell.

“I’m not sure you’re Michelle’s type, she’s a cougar apparently.” You remark, Joel ignores you in favour of sucking your nipples until they feel raw. “Why Michelle? I don’t understand why Tommy thinks she’s a good match for you.” You don’t know why this is coming up now, your mouth seems to have a mind of its own, the jealousy settling like lead in your stomach.

“He said she wants to make me a pie.” Joel pipes up, the confession half muffled.

“What kind of pie?” You ask, pulling his face from your tits. Joel groans frustratedly, looking up at you with eyes dark and deadly.

“I don’t know. Why does that even matter?”

“A cream pie probably.” You snarl under your breath, the jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach like a rattled viper.

Joel laughs, shaking his head and coaxing your mouth back to his. “Gross.” He murmurs, kissing you softly and squeezing your hips as if to guide you back. “You know I only like your cream pies.” He jokes, this time you break into a smile.

“Now whose gross?” You snort, tugging his plain grey undershirt over his head and to the side. You run your palms over his chest and down to his softer stomach, digging your nails in as they drag a long his skin. Goosebumps erupt all over him.

Joel is softer in his older age but strong too, years of walking different terrain, heavy lifting and fighting have made him lean also.

You hum contentedly, tracing over those familiar scars that have been made in the 20 years since the world imploded.

“He said you were out of my league.” Joel suddenly admits, resting his hands on your spread knees. You frown up at him. “Tommy said you were out of my league.”

“Tell Tommy he doesn’t know shit.” You retort with an eye roll, grabbing Joel by his belt and yanking him forward. “I like you, Joel. Fuck what anyone else thinks, it’s not anyone’s business who we choose to be with.” You say softly now, kissing your way up his chin to his lips. “I like you.” You affirm again, Joel kisses you tenderly, weaving his hand into your hair as you moan quietly.

“Well, I like you too.” He says, kissing you with so much passion yet so much tenderness all at the same time as you fumble to unbuckle his belt. You yank it apart, tugging open the button and prying the worn denim apart with the hiss of his zipper.

He barely lets you wrap a hand around him over his boxers before he has both your wrists pinned above your head, you make a sad whine but all disappointment quickly dissipates when he shuffles down the length of your torso and yanks your underwear down so fast you feel the material leave a friction burn. He grabs your thighs and then manoeuvres your legs by the backs of your knees, you like where this seems to be going.

Your spine curves against the hard floor when his mouth makes that first contact, he starts slow with a lick up the length of you, then he lightly suckles your lips and gently licks over the hood of your clitoris.

“Joel.” You murmur, twisting the blanket beneath your fingertips, scrunching it and bitting down on your lower lip as he continues his gentle assault on your clit, the rubber toes of your hi tops dig into his ribs almost painfully.

His thumb comes up to gently push the hood of your clit back, the sensation of his tongue directly stimulating the nerve causes you to gasp and wind one hand down into his hair, you tug and he groans against you.

You’re transported back to one of the first times you’d been intimate together after sleeping together in the truck.

For some reason, it had shocked you that Joel Miller ate pussy like a champ. The first time he’d gone down on you - behind the bar just after you’d blown him - you’d prepared yourself for dissatisfaction and disappointment, only it never came. Joel had licked into you with such ferocity and precision that you’d almost keened over.

He’d made you cum so quickly that you’d barely had time to process the first swipe of his tongue on your clitoris and the climax that followed minutes later.

He’d looked up at you, moustache and beard slick with his eyes wide; ‘I forgot how much I enjoyed doing that’ he’d panted while you squeaked back in shock.

Now, as you live in the moment, you feel that tingle of pleasure building but you don’t want to cum without him inside of you. As much as it pains you, you tug on his hair, urging him back up.

“Wanna cum with you.” You pant when he looks up with dazed brown eyes, frowning a little. He seems to accept that and sits up, shucking his jeans and boxers down over his ass with the help of your clumsy hands. “Lay back.” You demand, he does so and you move to take his place.

You throw your legs over his and settle above his lap, he’s got one arm behind his head and watches as you take him in your first and tease yourself with the flushed tip of him. He breathes in sharply through his nose as you do it again before notching him at the site of your heat, you steady yourself and begin to sink down.

“Fuck me.” Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly because he’s so sure he’s in heaven. The sensation of your wet heat surrounding him never gets old, he’d forgotten how much he loved sex before meeting you.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whimper, stroking his ego deliciously and he hates to be such a guy but the compliment goes straight to his dick.

“Fuck, honey. Take what you want, I’m yours - just fuck me.” He begs as you slowly begin to move, your nails scrape across his torso as you fall into an easy rhythm of rolling your hips into his. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” He babbles, looking up and admiring the curve of your back and the way your tits bounce as you ride him.

“Mmm.” You whine, picking up the pace and throwing your head back which exposes your jugular and Joel just wants to sink his teeth into you because you truly look good enough to eat.

“Come here, babydoll.” He urges, pulling you down so you’re chest to chest. Your peer at him with pretty doe eyes, your lashes flutter as they shut to kiss him deeply, your tongue swipes his and you taste the tang of yourself on him. You moan louder when he manages to plant his boots on the floor and thrust up into you roughly, tangling his hand in your hair to keep you pressed against him.

It’s so hot in the stables, you’re both sticky and warm. But with your pretty moans and keens filling the air, Joel manages to easily forget the irritation from the heat.

You push against his chest to sit up and Joel grabs your hips, guiding you easily and you feel yourself getting close but you can’t achieve orgasm through penetration alone.

You brace one hand on his thigh behind you, tipping your head back as the pleasure becomes almost too much to handle. Your hips roll in an easy rhythm, his cock head hitting your G spot perfectly and you whine when the hand on your left hip moves ever so slightly until Joel was able to thumb your clit. He knows you so well.

“Oh f - fuck. You feel so good, you’re so good - fuck.” You babble, your hips moving faster.

“Jesus christ.” Joel huffs, throwing his head back against the hard floor, biting his bottom lip hard to stave off his orgasm. You feel so good wrapped around him; wet and snug, like crushed velvet.

He knows he can’t stay like this, he’s too close to finishing and he can sense you’re not quite there yet despite being edged so he makes the conscious decision to hold you and flip you both over with a nimbleness he didn’t know he possessed in his older age.

You stutter out a choked moan, arching into his strong hands. You drag your nails down his toned back, leaving a little spatter of blood in the red tracks.

Joel hisses when your nails puncture the skin on the globes of his ass, somehow trying to pull him closer and push him away at the same time.

“Where?” He asks, nodding downwards as he fights off his climax.

“Inside.” You reply without hesitation. You’d counted your cycle days, marking in a blank notebook the day number and your symptoms, pretty accurately guessing your fertile window and probable ovulation day by cervical mucus alone. You were four days from your period being due, it was safe.

“You sure?” He hesitates, brow furrowed hard with concentration, he’s a stroke away from finishing. He knows better than most people to not trust the pull out method and he knows the importance of contraception but he still ended up a Dad before he hit his mid twenties. Pushing sixty he’s still playing a dangerous game but so far, neither of you had gotten burnt.

“Yeah.” You gasp, fingers on your clit rubbing faster. You groan suddenly and twist into him, making pretty little whimpers and purring. He groans too, thrusting in hard once, twice and then three times. You feel his cock stiffen and twitch, then the pulse of subtle warmth of his cum spreading inside and aiming for your cervix. He works himself through it, you push in return as the aftershocks slow to a flat line.

Joel heaves a breath, resting on his forearms as you lazily kiss his neck in satisfaction and rapture. You sit there for a minute, basking in the afterglow until Joel grows too stiff and has to withdraw from you slowly, kneeling up between your legs to pull his boxers and jeans back up but he leaves them unbuttoned and his belt loose.

You don’t miss the primal look in his eyes when they drift to between your legs, he can see his cum leaking and the pearlescent finish it leaves on your lips. His cock twitches, perhaps if he was younger he could go for another round but alas, he settles next to you on the blanket, pulling you to his chest and cushioning your head with a strong bicep.

“I think that might have been the best time yet.” You pant breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling and seeing the evening sky through the cracks of wood.

“Maybe one day we can do it in an actual bed, I’m not sure how much more of these places my back can take.” Joel jokes, you giggle and turn into him, listening to the rapid pace of his heartbeat as it settles, a perfect mirror of your own.

“Not bad for an old timer.” You tease, giggling when he growls and squeezes your hip.

“Was patrol okay today?” Joel questions you, you nod lazily against him. “You come across anything?” Now you speak, leaning up to peer down at him.

“A couple of runners. We shot them in that abandoned gas station near the entrance to the offices off the trail. I think they were probably people passing through, one was infected on the journey and turned, then bit the other.” Joel hums, rubbing your lower back and hip. “I have some things for Ellie I found, by the way. I’ll drop them over tomorrow. Nothing crazy, just some things I thought she needed.” You say between kisses down Joel’s chest and sternum, your delicate fingers tracing out old battle scars.

“What like?” He asks, catching your hand as it reaches his happy trail, bringing it to his lips instead where he presses tender kisses to your fingertips.

“Pyjamas, underwear and some toiletries. Oh! And get this, a new casette tape for her walkman.”

“What tape?”

“Teardrops.” You grin.

“Womack and Womack? She’s gonna love that.” Joel says, laying back and smiling at the ceiling of the stables, humming the song in his head. “Fuck, I haven’t heard that song in - jesus - years.” He’s frowning, contemplating lost time, the whole concept of time evades him, it never used to at the start but now? It’s one big jumble, his time is defined by events and not a calendar.

“She still playing that one you got her on repeat?” You wonder.

“Yeah.”

“What was it again?”

“Bowie. Heroes.” Joel replies.

“Nice.” You nod.

As you lie there together in an easy silence, content to be together in the quiet solace of the stables, Joel’s mind wanders back to his earlier conversation with his younger brother:

“Hey, er - Tommy actually said something else earlier.” Joel winces at how awkward he sounds and you huff loudly, ready to hear what other dumbass thing he’s said. “He said he heard you say you have a boyfriend or that you were seein’ someone.”

You sit up, frowning down at Joel.

“Okay…” You reply hesitantly, uneasy now. “Am I not seeing you?” You frown.

“No - no! It’s… that came out wrong. I just meant - “ Joel grumbles, covering his face momentarily while you try to will your stomach from not sinking. “I don’t know, I just wanted to know if you meant me.”

“Seriously, Joel? This conversation is going so well.” You say dryly, utterly unimpressed.

“No! Oh my god! I can’t do this.” He groans, realising his mistake. “I’m sorry, that came out so wrong.” Joel apologises, you snort.

“Look Joel, I was talking to Mrs Patterson in the garden and she was telling me about her late husband, saying how lovely he was and how men just aren’t like that anymore. She asked if I’d found anyone and I let it slip that I was seeing someone, I didn’t mention any names and I can totally understand why you’re freaked when we haven’t even had that conversation ourselves. I shouldn’t have assumed this was anything more than sex, I’m sorry.” You annunciate, warm in the cheeks.

“You want to just have sex?” Joel is sat up now, matching your frazzled expression.

“If that’s what you want.” You shrug, taking an interest in your cuticles. A large hand lays over yours, squeezing. You shift your focus to his knuckles instead, tracing out the scars.

“Honey, look at me.” He urges softly, you hesitantly meet his eyes. “I think somewhere we’ve miscommunicated.”

“How so?” You press.

“Look… it’s been a long time since I’ve done this, I’m a little rusty. I’m sorry if I haven’t been clear about what we are or what I want us to be, I kinda just assumed you knew and yeah, that’s real shitty of me.” He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanna be exclusive with you, honey. I mean, I have Ellie to think about so we’ll need to go slow just so I can ease her into the change. Is that okay?” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“That’s more than okay, Joel. I completely understand, I don’t want to spook Ellie either.” You confirm, Joel let’s out a relieved sigh.

“Good - good, okay. We’ll figure it out, baby.” He assures you, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you softly.

It’s easy to lose yourself in Joel Miller, you’re swept up in the gruff voice and strong arms, the softness beneath his outer shell reserved for those closest to him.

You’re kissing him back in earnest, he’s reclining to lay back down with you on top of him and you’re sure this could lead to round two or at least head from either one of you, maybe even both.

However, the moment is spoiled when you hear voices creeping closer to the stables. You both stiffen and wait, looking at each other with eyes opened wide.

The voices are getting closer and you decipher it’s two sets, it’s not made clear who it is until they’re walking behind the stables and you can see their shadows slink between the thin gaps in the planks.

It’s Ellie and Tommy.

You and Joel scramble, you yank your dress back over your breasts and pull the hem of it over your ass. Your panties are on the floor and you narrowly dodge Joel’s elbow as he hastily buckles his jeans back up just in time for the door around the corner to open with a shriek of the hinges.

“What if he’s gone out on patrol without telling me? Or maybe he’s swapped with someone and gone hunting? I know I’m back way earlier than he said but he said he’d be home! Do you think he’s left the gate? What if he’s hurt? What if - “ Ellie begins to ramble and Tommy sighs.

“Kiddo, stop worrying. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, let’s look at the whiteboard and see if his name’s on there. I highly doubt he’s swapped shifts and he wouldn’t leave without telling you, he’s gotta be around here some…” Tommy’s reassurance comes to a stop when he round the corner of the hay bale wall and abruptly stops, staring at you and Joel with as much shock as you return.

Ellie slams into his back and he wobbles but his gaze never falters.

“What the fuck, man!” Ellie exclaims, shoving Tommy and stepping around his statue like form but also freezing too.

You look between them both, trying to formulate an excuse but Joel shoving his t-shirt on, the fact your clothes are crumpled and there’s absolutely hay in your tousled hair says it all.

Your panties are shoved behind your back out of view.

“Well I’ll be damned, you’re the guy she’s seein’!.” Tommy snorts, looking between you both. Joel growls, yanking on his flannel while Ellie manually retrieves her jaw from the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” She asks, looking between you and Joel. “You have a girlfriend? What the fuck, dude? You didn’t say anything!” She fumes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Look, it’s complicated and new.” He says, which placates her slightly. She stares at you again and you see the betrayal hidden behind a scowl, she looks at Joel again.

“Fine. I guess this isn’t that bad, it could be worse - we could of caught you with Esther.”

“That’s true.” Tommy nods, pointing at Ellie, she nods back.

“Esther?” You question, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Tommy’s neighbour, she totally fancies Joel.” Ellie tells you. “You should fight her.”

“No, she doesn’t and stop shit stirring.” Joel warns Ellie, she hides a smirk which tells you she’s winding Joel up.

“I could take Esther.” You say, playing along, Ellie’s eyes brighten with mischief.

“Nobody’s fighting no one.” Joel settles, you’re all silent for a millisecond and then Tommy throws in his two cence.

“You could take Esther.” He agrees.

“Enough about Esther, please!” Joel begs, beside himself.

“This is fucking embarrassing, Joel. What the fuck do you expect us to do? It’s awkward!” Ellie complains, Tommy nods in agreement, you do too.

“Yeah? Try being where we’re stood, kid.” He retorts.

Ellie kinda has to resist the urge to throw up in her mouth because Joel has sex which is so horrifying that she almost can’t bare to look at him but she’s equally happy for him and utterly disgusted, she swallows back a retch.

“Fine, whatever. I’m very happy for you and my da - Joel.” Ellie bursts and corrects herself at the last minute, you don’t miss the hitch in Joel’s breathing but this is not the time for that discussion. “I’m willing to negotiate a price for the emotional damage you’ve both caused me by lying to me, sneaking around and also having sex in front of my horse.” She lists.

“My horse too!” Tommy adds.

“And Tommy’s horse too, Crash and Shimmer didn’t want to see your bare ass.” Ellie continues and for some reason Joel knows exactly where this is going, so he braces himself.

“Name your price.” He bites, Ellie looks at him with a levelling glare, it’s getting hard not to laugh when you see Tommy observing like he’s watching a mafia deal go down.

“A kitten.” Ellie reveals.

He fucking knew it.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction

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romana-after-dark · 6 months

Text

Blessed be the Fruit: Bonus Chapter

Commander!Joel Miller x fem!OC! Angela Dempsey x Commander!Tommy Miller

Series masterlist : Join dark!Romana's tag list : Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Summery: In the weeks before Joel's new handmaid arrives, Tommy and Angela have some fun at the Jezabels and Joel watches... an it's a good thing he does

Content and warnings: Joel watching Tommy and Angela fuck, jerking off, subby!tommy, top Angela, degrading, objectification, choking, almost murder lololololol protective Joel, creampie.

AN: Just a lil thing to hold y'all over. Chapter 5 is in the works but its taking me forever bc i keep getting distracted with other shit and I need to get the next chapter of this Javier x reader x santi fic out lololol

Support writers, reblog and leave comments!

****************

“You gonna do more than watch this time, Joel?”

Angela spoke as she teased Tommy’s body, both of them fully dressed for the time being, but Angela’s dark green dress and skimpy panties running over Tommy’s pants could hardly be counted as ‘dressed’.

“You know the drill, now get to work. Tommy looks like he’s about to have you on the wall.”

Angela shot him a look, but she knew he was joking. “Just for that, I’m gonna tease him a little longer.”

“Joel, shut the hell up!” Tommy grunted blow her, gripping at the bedsheets.

This scene had been displayed time and time again. Joel Miller liked to watch. Tommy liked to be on bottom. Angela liked to pretend she had some semblance of control over her life. The last two years, Tommy took her out here and honestly? She liked it. She got to pretend she was normal. She got to be sexy, fun, she got to play with Tommy’s body the way men liked to play with hers. The clock was ticking and there was no baby to show for it, and it wouldn’t be long before she was shipped off to her next commander, and she doubted he would be as kind as Tommy; and Tommy was kind. She liked him. Many handmaids fell for their commanders, naive and innocent and stupid girls years younger who thought oh, he’s different, his wifes a bitch, but he loves me, he just can’t leave her. Tale as old as time.

It wasn’t like that with Tommy, Angela just liked him, she enjoyed his company. He didn’t try to tell her they’d run away together, they just had sex, played games, hung out. Deb really was a bitch, and Tommy wasn’t fucking her much. She believed him on that, considering that she slept in a separate bed. Joel was still fucking Gina though, and Angela couldn’t fault him for that. Gina was a cunt, but beautiful, with flawless dark skin and perfectly braided curly coils every single day. She’d been a knock out before, when the hair was allowed down and Angela was sure that’s the Gina Joel got to see in bed. Still, Joel still came out here with Tommy, riding separately. He’d find a girl later on, but for round one, Joel liked to jerk off while watching you fuck his brother.

He liked watching you bounce on Tommy’s cock while you looked directly at him.

“Fuck, Ang… oh my god, please let me cum, please” Tommy whined, youthful body writhing and he really did look so, so good like this. Sprawled out and desperate.

“Not yet, Tommy, I’m not done using you yet. Lay there like a good toy and shut up.” Angela liked degrading him, reducing Tommy to what Gilead made her feel like. It wasn’t personal; Tommy treated her like a person, but there was no pure blood in Gilead. Angela looked away from Tommy’s tanned chest and back to Joel, whose face was calm and collected but the rapid rise and fall of his chest matched more closely to how furiously he was jerking his cock. “Hear you’re getting a new handmaid, Joel? Your cunt of a wife not, ooo, not tight enough?”

“Nothing tighter than my right hand, but yeah, she hmph, won’t shut up about wanting another.”

Joel was handsome, she gave him that, and his cock was massive. Longer than Tommy, but not as thick. “Gonna bring her here?”

“No.” He chuckled. “You don’t need another plaything.”

She pouts and is about to retort when Tommy speaks again. “Angela, please-”

“Shut up!” Angela covers her mouth as she rides him slower, making him groan at the torture. “Grown ups are talking.”

This makes Joel smirk. “Wanna keep my privet life private… but don’t worry, I’ll still come by for a show.”

“And what a show it is.” She releases Tommy’s mouth, slowly riding up and down Tommy’s cock, the man beneath you barely holding on as she touches herself, her full body. Angela knew she was hot, ample tits and the curve of her, soft skin and dark, curly hair, she liked being wanted, and she liked being in control of that want. She did not like when Tommy grabbed her hips, hard, and attempted to control the pace.

Angela and Tommy had done breath play plenty, so he didn’t blink when her hands wrapped around to choke him. What he didn’t realize that in playing the brat, he had accidentally triggered something in her. This is where she had control, and she refused to let him take it. So Angela chocked him. And it was hard. Faster and faster she road him, continuously spearing herself on his dick and choking him harder and harder. She thought she might break a windpipe… and the thought made her orgasm around her. Her fluttering walls, the deep, intense pleasure, the power and control over Tommy right now as he gagged and coughed and wheezed… What if she just did it? What if she ended it right now? She’d end up on the wall, but that's where she was going anyway. This way, there’d be one less commander… What if she did it? Tommy’s eyes were unfocusing… she could watch the life leave his face….

The sound of the chair creaking caused Angela to look up, seeing Joel had taken note of the prolonged and aggressive choking of his brother, and had slowed down his own hand while waiting for the scene to play… Angela let go, allowing Tommy to breath and Tommy came inside her right then.

“Oh god, oh god Angela, you’re fuck’n perfect.” He continued to praise her as she road his overstimulated cock, leaving him twitching and whining about cumming a second time, but Angela’s eyes were on Joel.

He had gone back to his position, fighting himself with ferver but glaring a deathly look at her. Joel knew what Angela had almost done, and the look he gave her said if she ever touched his baby brother's throat again, what he’d do to her was far worse than the wall.

Maybe it was the fear in her eyes that made him cum.

***************

Angela Angela Angela..... if ur gonna kill someone, dont kill tommy. But, heat of the moment... more will be reveled about angela and tommy soon but this is just a hint.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dins-riduur-anthe @morallyinept @fan-fiction-floozy@med494 @taliarose12 @flvrdoll @k-ra @sam-2me @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @kyloispunk @jenna-ortega @lunitareads @labyrinthofheartagrams @swimmjacket @magpiepillsjunior @stevngrant @theywhowriteandknowthings @everyth1ngfan @movievillainess721 @syrupstuff @christinamadsen

#joel miller #joel miller smut #tommy miller #tommy miller smut #tht au #the handmaids tale au #commander joel miller #commander tommy miller #sub tommy miller #dark!joel #the last of us hbo #dark joel miller #joel miller fic

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sweetercalypso · 4 months

Text

What Takes the Edge Off || Joel Miller

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Now that Joel is living in Jackson, he’s picked up a few bad habits. When he comes home smelling like cigarettes, you punish him for his choice of vices

Notes: smoking, lap sitting, hair pulling, semi-public sex, grinding over clothes, edging, dom reader, sub(ish) Joel, no reader pronouns; smoking is gross unless you’re hot <3

joel miller masterlist main masterlist

Joel’s problem started with a crushed pack of Camels he’d found just a few short months after settling down in Jackson.

Truthfully, his problem had started when he was nineteen and naïve about the habit he was forming with the hand-rolled cigarettes stashed in his glovebox. They’d belonged to Tommy before Joel had quickly confiscated them with a lengthy lecture about the dangers of smoking.

Tommy was still a kid, but Joel was old enough to choose his own vices.

Everyone in Texas smoked; pipes, cigars, cigarettes – it was all commonplace in the rural heat of the South. Even after the world fell apart, there were plenty of people in QZs willing to trade a week’s worth of ration cards for a single carton of cigarettes, a stale taste of the life they’d left behind.

Joel had been more than happy to meet their demand, only occasionally skimming a few from his and Tess’s supplies. He didn’t crave the relief of nicotine any more than he craved a bottle of old whiskey or a quick, drunken fuck – it was just a way to cope with the life he’d been given.

Living in Jackson is different. The air is cleaner, the streets aren’t littered with soggy cigarette butts, and the weight of Joel’s bad habits has finally caught up to him.

The first pack he found, he’d shared with Tommy. The pair stood outside a crumbling house on their patrol route and chain-smoked what was left in the half-crushed box, reminiscing about the time Tommy stole an imported cigar from their father’s nightstand and had gotten sick from the first puff. Twenty years since they’d seen home, their Southern upbringing still kept them from smoking indoors.

The smell of tobacco had worn off by the time they returned to the city gates, and you were none the wiser about their indulgence. Even when you threw your arms around Joel and buried your face in his chest, you’d greeted him like nothing was out of the ordinary.

A couple days after he’d finished the first pack, Joel realized how much he enjoyed smoking. He found himself missing the bitter taste in his mouth, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s flicking loose ashes from a phantom burning tip.

There’d been a gun in his hand for as long as he could remember, and now that his days are spent in protected leisure, Joel feels like a crucial piece of himself is missing.

He’s constantly searching for the sleek steel of a pistol, the pressure of a trigger responding to his unabating command. The weight of a cigarette balanced between his fingers had eased the grief of being still.

A sealed pack of Marlboro’s was Joel’s next find, left behind on a coffee table in a house just beyond his normal patrol route. His habit had never been routine enough to pick a favorite brand, but the familiar red and white emblem is a welcomed sight, a promise of earthy tobacco and a good, slow burn.

The matchbook in his pocket is a heavy burden on Joel’s conscience as he picks up the cigarettes and quietly slips them into his supply bag. This time, he isn’t sharing with Tommy or anyone else who feels they have a claim over a portion of his findings.

Jackson might be a commune, but just this once, Joel’s nicotine-fueled prerogative trumps his commitment to sacrifice.

He waits until he’s past the city gates to unwrap the crisp plastic and slide the first cigarette out of the pack. It’s nearly midnight when he returns his horse to the stable and begins the short walk home, unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth as he attempts to light a match under the warm embrace of the streetlamps.

The initial thrum of nicotine flooding his lungs is bittersweet, a slight burn that dulls his senses with each deep breath. He walks with his cigarette pulled up to his mouth, the weak orange glow of lit tobacco burning a crude effigy into the shadows of his face.

You’re sitting on the porch when he rounds the corner, lazed in a rocking chair that Joel had built the previous summer – his attempt at adjusting to the slow life.

When he realizes that you’re still awake, he flicks the half-finished cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot, waving a hand to clear the lazy smoke lingering in the air. He grumbles under his breath and pulls the front of his jacket to his nose to gauge how long it would take the smell of tobacco to fade, but he realizes too late that the sickly-sweet aroma is already woven into the material – still clinging to his breath.

He makes his way up the sidewalk with a guilty look on his face and a hand tucked in his pocket, thumb rubbing soothingly over the side of the cigarette pack as if the feel of the box was enough to bring him relief.

It wasn’t that he expected to be chastised for his nasty habit – you knew better than anyone that Joel preferred to take care of himself. But he distinctly remembers a conversation you’d shared some time ago about old-world vices and your distaste for smoking.

He didn’t think it was worth mentioning his habit at the time; smoking was a luxury he doubted he’d ever have again, so why ruin his image of calloused self-restraint?

The sound of the porch steps creaking under Joel’s boots grabs your attention from whatever book you’d been reading, now abandoned face-down on the arm of the rocking chair as you turn to greet him.

“You’re home,” you drawl, the tired lilt in your voice betraying your content expression.

His chin dips in a bashful acknowledgement, tucked to his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your face. He still isn’t used to having someone waiting up for him; the thought only adds to the weight of his self-reproach.

“How was patrol?” you ask as Joel pulls away, though your eyes rake over him with another question in mind.

Before he can answer, you reach out and grab the front of his jacket, bringing the material to your nose to confirm what Joel already knew. “You smell like smoke.”

He swallows the sandpaper feeling in his mouth and shrugs. “Got a little cold out tonight, we stopped to make a fire on our way back.”

He cringes internally at his halfhearted attempt at avoiding the matter, but it doesn’t seem to deter you from putting the pieces together anyway.

“No,” you interject, brows pulled together in confusion. “You smell like cigarettes.”

He’s silent for a moment, unable to think of an honest way out of this conversation. “Huh.”

“Joel,” you drawl, standing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. A teasing grin pulls at the corners of your mouth, a scandalized amusement that makes his cheeks burn. “Have you been smoking?”

Your fingers weave through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly until his head rolls back.

His eyes flutter shut and he shudders as he pulls the offending pack from his pocket. “Found ‘em on patrol,” he pants, his free hand gently squeezing your hip. “People leave all sorts of useful things behind when the world’s endin’.”

You offer only a simpering tsk in response, not quite the reaction Joel was expecting.

The night air is silent beyond the quiet lull of Jackson and the floorboards shifting under your feet as you shuffle closer together, sharing an intimate moment in the dim light seeping through the front room windows. Joel’s hands are a firm presence on your waist, separated from your skin by only the thin flannel shirt you’d stolen from his closet.

Eventually, you pull away, ushering him into the seat you’d abandoned upon his arrival. He drops into the rocking chair with a grunt and drags you into his lap.

“Missed you, baby” he murmurs, admiring the way you fit perfectly into the hollow of his frame, the way you balance yourself overtop him with practiced ease.

He knows he should be more concerned about your indifferent reaction, more worried about the possibility of someone walking by. But his sensibility is swept away by the heave of your chest and the little sound you make when his hand presses against the base of your spine.

Your hips drag slowly over his and for a moment, Joel thinks you’ve forgotten about the cigarettes. Or maybe you won’t mind his indulgence as long as he makes up for it. The warmth of your body pressed against his makes Joel ache for more, ready to offer an apology with more than just his words.

Just as he leans in to press his mouth to yours, you pull away far enough that he misses.

“Ah-” you stop him with a raised hand, fingertips pressed to his pouted lips. “You can kiss me when you don’t smell like cigarettes.”

The warm, hazy feeling is suddenly ripped from the air. Joel’s head jerks back in a look of disbelief, mouth hung open and brows pulled together as if he’d been scorned. “You’re serious?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, running a hand over his chest to soothe his trampled ego. “Can’t stand the smell, baby. You know that.”

The rocking chair dips forward as Joel drops his head onto your shoulder with a groan. “That’s just cruel.”

“It’s not cruel,” you laugh, pushing back the mess of curls falling into his face. “When you come home from patrol, I wanna taste you, not smoke.”

Your hips stir over his once again and Joel swears under his breath. His cock twitches in interest and he begrudgingly accepts the torment of your slow pace. This isn’t the time to take charge and chase his high; he’ll let you take the reins until you decide that he’s forgiven.

He picks his head up to glance around the empty streets, assuring himself that there’s no one here to witness his weak-willed acquiescence.

“I wanna touch you, make you feel good,” you continue, ghosting your fingers over the front of his jeans. “But how can I do that when all I can think about is those nasty cigarettes? Hmm?”

Your hands travel back to his chest, but your hips continue to roll over his, trapping his stiff cock beneath the comfortable pressure of your thighs. His eyes flutter shut once more as he leans back into his seat and lets you have your fun.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to near his end, subtly bucking his own hips to help himself along. He’s right there, right at the edge of his release, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the arm rests and—

The weight in his lap is gone, replaced with an empty chill that makes Joel’s hips stutter. His eyes snap open as he struggles to focus in his blissed-out state, but a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

You’re standing in front of him now, no longer providing the friction that’d been fueling the fire in his belly. “Sorry, baby. You don’t get off that easy.”

He groans when you crawl back into his lap and you’re flooded with a sense of empowerment. It shouldn’t feel this good to see Joel suffer. You know it’s not fair to tease him like this, but maybe he deserves a little punishment.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking, I’d let you enjoy this. Let you use your mouth to make me come, let you fuck me the way you want to.”

Joel stays silent, obedient. He swallows around shallow gasps of air that make his chest rise and fall with the labor of his breaths, thighs tensing as he struggles not to chase that feeling dangling just out of reach.

“I could do this all night,” you note, settling your weight in his lap again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I think you’d let me.”

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #sub!joel #sub!joel miller

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freelancearsonist · 4 days

Text

the mark they saw on my collarbone

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.

➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak.

➔ this reader insert character: has female anatomy, no pronouns used, is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.

Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”

Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.

“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”

“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”

“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”

Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”

“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.

But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…

The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.

The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.

He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.

The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.

That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.

He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.

This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.

This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.

It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.

The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.

Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.

He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.

“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.

Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.

But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.

All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.

Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.

“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”

“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid.

“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.

You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”

“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”

He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.

You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.

Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.

“Joel–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”

Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”

“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.

Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.

“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.

Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.

“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”

“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.

“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.

“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”

You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.

“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.

For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.

“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”

But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.

“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”

Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.

He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.

Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.

“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”

“Alpha, please…”

“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”

You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.

“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”

“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.

“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.

“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.

His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.

He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.

“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”

“Y-yes, oh my–”

He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”

You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.

He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.

He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.

“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”

Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.

Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.

But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.

He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.

He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”

You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.

The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.

He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.

He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.

“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.

“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.

With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.

He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”

You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”

Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.

“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”

The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.

“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”

You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.

“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”

Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.

You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”

You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.

You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.

You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.��

His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.

“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”

“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”

He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”

“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.

“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”

“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”

“I am,” you’re quick to assert.

“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”

You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.

You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.

That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.

Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.

“Joel.”

Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.

“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”

Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #alpha! joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #cece writes #series: maroon

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tightjeansjavi · 5 months

Text

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆ Tinsel ⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

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

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

~word count: 4.9k~

pairing | boyfriend! Joel Miller x f! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—” your voice falls short.

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

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

Cheeky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“These cookies ain’t gonna frost themselves!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now we’re talkin.’” She grinned.

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

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

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

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

“Joel..” you warned.

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

How did you get so lucky?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I just need a breather.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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beardedjoel · 8 months

Text

pretty little wife | masterlist

status: ongoing one shot collection pairing: husband!joel x f!reader summary: chronicles the daily life, past and present, of husband!joel and his pretty little wife. warnings: 18+ MDNI, sub/dom relationship, large age gap (20+ years), free use kink, each chapter is smut heavy with sprinklings of domestic fluff, praise kink, heavy on the pet names for reader, chapters are individually tagged with warnings! 🌹 main masterlist | ao3 | kofi | fic tag 🌹

✦ = smut ✩ = fluff

main chapters: ♡ better now ✦ 3.9k — a snippet in the seemingly perfect daily life of husband!joel and his lovely housewife. ♡ morning glory ✦✩ 4.3k — saturday mornings are for his wife, joel claims, so he spends this one making his wife come as many times as he damn well pleases. ♡ generous ✦ 10.5k — tommy stops by to see you and joel in the evening, and the night takes a turn that you never could have expected. joel x f!reader x tommy for this chapter. ♡ sit tight ✦ 6.5k — you're hosting a dinner party in the miller household, and as usual, joel can't help but turn it into a chance to tease his pretty little wife. ♡ do you have an appointment? ✦✩ 11.2k — pretty wife visits joel at work when he forgets his lunch, and he wants to show everyone there just how good you are to him. and when you're good, you get a reward. ♡ meet cute, part one , part two ✦✩ 8.3k, 9.5k — a flashback to the night joel and pretty wife meet, and the beginnings of their relationship. ♡ sorry, baby ✦✩ 4k — joel is stressed and busy with a big project at work lately. his pretty little wife makes it all better. ♡ crazy 4 u ✦✩ 9k — joel has historically made sure that valentine's day is special for his pretty little wife, but this year he's gone above and beyond.

ficlets: ♡ butt dial ✩ 2.3k — you're home alone while joel is out with his brother. he butt dials you, and you hear some very interesting things.

#fic: pretty little wife #beardedjoel masterlist #joel miller x reader #masterlist

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pedgito · 4 months

Note

Hi Ali!! I love your writing and I was wondering if I can request dom Joel punishing you by riding his boot??

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary | joel doesn't like gifts, you gift him new boots. [3k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, soft dom/sub dynamic, boot-riding, degradation kink, unprotected piv, one (1) face slap, porn with absolutely no plot.

author’s note | original working title for this was new boot goofin' because i can't take myself seriously, idk what this is but enjoy. kel (@beskarandblasters) suggested the actual title for this so thank you babe ♡

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs

Three things about Joel you were intensely sure of—he was a strong lover. He loved hard and he cared even harder, always willing to put your needs before his own, even to an unhealthy degree in some cases. Two, he liked to be in charge. With his willingness to put you before him, it also lended him to enjoy the role of being dominant in the right situations. He kept a lot of himself locked up around everyone but you. Through the few years you two have become close and started this relationship—if you could call it that—there’s a solid understanding of each other’s needs. He provides the domineering nature you crave and you subdued yourself to him willingly when he puts the facade on.

At first, it never left the bedroom. You both enjoyed the disguise of the dynamics to make things flow easier, not allow things to stall out so quickly and you had all the proper safety precautions in place to allow you both the happiness you seeked out. But, as most things in your life, they seeped through the cracks and bled out, intermingling with the rest of your daily life.

Sometimes it was just a look when you’d say something in public that was indecent or a comment that made Joel’s face go hot, knowing that despite his openness in public, he was still a very private man. He reserved that side for you and only you. And he did so much for you—not just around Jackson, but in your own home. With him being the lead guy for patrols and having such a…special relationship with him, it lended for more leniency when you weren’t feeling great or needed a break from the hectic energy that patrolling liked to suffocate people with, always on the brink of danger. And Joel was always too handy for his own good—always finding a reason to fix up a broken something in your own small house on the outskirts of Jackson.

Broken pipe? Fixed. Chair broken? Joel could shape you out a new one in a couple weeks.

Last week he had repainted then entirety of your kitchen cabinets because he thought they were looking a little dull—as if they weren’t run down from years of abandonment and like this wasn’t the fucking apocalypse. Despite that, you felt the urge to thank Joel. And not just thank him.

Properly. With a gift.

But—oh. Third thing, Joel hated gifts.

Despised them.

But, you weren’t always the best listener or rule follower.

A patrol with Tommy had you both scheming up an idea when you bring up the option of gifting something to Joel as a proper offering of appreciation, his hand resting loosely on the rifle slung around his chest, fingers tapping against the butt.

“Well—you know, there’s a clothing store a few miles east,” Tommy tells you, “Ellie and I found it when we cleared out that hoard a few months back—lotsa clothes and shoes, mostly untouched. We could check that out? I need to grab a few things myself anyways.”

You nod easily, “Yeah—that pair he has is falling apart. It drives me insane.”

“Joel doesn’t like to let go of things easily,” Tommy comments broadly, “He’ll make do with what he’s got until it falls apart.”

“Well, he doesn’t take no for an answer when I tell him to stop helpin’ me so he’s gonna have to suck it up just this once.” You smile slightly, earning a soft chuckle from Tommy.

You hoped it would go over well—because Joel did need new boots and there was little harm in an innocent gift…right?

–

Joel is brimming with an energy that only accompanied him after long patrols, the ones that lasted a few days and kept him away. Away from his home, away from you. He doesn’t even attempt the trek toward his own house, rather taking the first right and beelining for your small house at the end of the neighborhood, squeezing his leather covered hands into fists.

He’s anxious, pent up—not with anger or rage, but just a need to release some built up stress. Fortunately, he knew the perfect way to do that. His boots squeak against the hardwood of your front deck, the tattered rubber around the toe of his boot hanging on by a thread as he kicks it gently into the base of the door softly, idle as he busies his mind and prays that you’re still awake.

You’ve been waiting for him all day, his gift hidden away safely as you yank the door open excitedly, nearly tripping over your own pair of haphazardly thrown shoes on the floor.

Joel lets out a soft oof as he catches you, chuckling at your bright and beaming smile.

“Someone’s excited,” Joel chides playfully, though his voice is gruff. He sounds tired, looks it too, “been missin’ me, baby?”

You nod immediately, “So much,” You press a gentle kiss to his lips as he kicks the front door closed with his foot, slowly removing his layers—thick coat falling first, then his thinner jacket he wore underneath to leave him in a thick thermal, his skin still prickling with the winter chill but quickly warming underneath your touch, “everything go okay?”

“Yeah—just a bad storm comin’ in,” Joel explains, ignoring how distracted you were, allowing the soft pecks to his skin as you pulled away, slowly inserting yourself into his line of sight, mischievous grin plastered across your face, “—what are you up to, darlin’?

“Got a surprise for you,” You tease playfully, feeling his thick, calloused fingers slip under the thin material of your shirt, subconsciously seeking some contact with you, “can you go sit on the couch and close your eyes?”

Joel didn’t take too well to surprises, but he trusts you. So, he nods quietly, though there’s a slight hesitance to him as he takes a seat on the couch, slowly unlacing his boots in your absence to relieve some pressure but not taking them off completely, the tongue of the boot hanging lifelessly over his even more pathetic looking laces.

He can hear your soft footsteps as they approach, bare feet against the wood flooring as the couch dips slightly and he feels something hard and solid pressed into his hands.

“Okay, open ‘em,” You tell him gently, watching as he blinks his eyes open, expression mostly unchanging—it wasn’t unlike him to have little reaction, but it did worry you slightly, “—surprise?”

Okay, terrible idea. Got it.

“Darlin’,” God, you’ve heard that tone before, body tensing slightly, “I thought I told you I don’t need nothin’ in return from you.”

“Joel—you’re constantly helping me,” You argue softly, “it’s the least I could do. Plus, you need a new pair.”

“That’s not the point,” Joel tells you, “I do that stuff ‘cause I like knowin’ you’re comfortable, that you don’t have anything to worry about while I’m away.”

“And I worry about you too,” You interject quickly, “Joel—it’s just a gift, it’s okay.”

Joel places them on the table in front of him silently, contemplating thoughtfully.

He’s made it clear on several occasions that he doesn’t like things in return. That he does these things without the expectation of anything in return, but he appreciates the gesture. Joel isn’t used to people caring for him and it feels odd to allow it. And he sees the nervous energy inside of you brimming, like you’ve made a bad choice and you deserve the punishment.

Almost begged for it.

Your fists curl nervously in your lap, waiting for any sign that Joel had to offer.

And when he doesn’t respond, you find yourself curling into him out of instinct. Thighs spreading out over his lap as his hands follow the trail from your knees, up your thighs, until his thumbs are settling in the crease of your pelvis. You attempt a gentle kiss, but he’s reluctant to return it.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask quietly, a genuine curiosity in your voice.

Joel shakes his head slightly, but the hand guiding its way around your neck tells a different story, his fingertips rubbing against the softness of your jawline, forcing you to look at him properly.

“Nothin’ wrong, but I do think I need to remind you of somethin’,” Joel explains in a soft, but demeaning tone, “that when I tell you I can provide for you and don’t need anything in return—that I mean that.”

You wait with baited breath, blinking rapidly at how hot his breath feels against your skin, feeling your cunt throb with need, with an insatiable want for him.

“And since you wanna buy me a new pair of boots—well,” Joel chuckles darkly, feeling your fingers tighten into the thick fabric of his thermal, “you’re gonna have to help me break ‘em in.”

You look at him, perplexed. But, his pupils dilate under your gaze, the subtle shifting as he kicks off his old, tattered boots as nods subtly to the new pair behind you.

You sigh breathily, “Huh—Oh, you want me to—”

“Ride my boot, baby,” He tells you clearly, “Seein’ as it is my gift and all.”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as you slipped from his lap, table skidding back deftly in the process—you grab for the new pair of work boots but Joel is quickly grabbing your face again, squeezing your cheeks sharply.

“Undress first.” Joel says, waiting for your nod of acknowledgement before he lets you go.

So, you do—layer by layer until you reach your bra, unhooking it with nimble fingers as he slips on his new boots. If this were anyone else, you would feel ridiculous. But, with Joel, there was something there, brewing on the surface. He respected you, but he also needed you to understand.

It was a little humiliating, but it wasn’t the worst thing.

Your fingers edge along the hem of your underwear when Joel stops your hands, “Keep those on.” He utters, his fingers dragging softly against the front of the cotton material until he’s cupping your pussy in his palm, soft wet spot growing in the fabric where his fingertips drag across—you’re enjoying this, clearly.

You lower yourself slowly, straddling his left leg with your knees tucked against the bottom of the couch he sat on, pressing your cunt against the cold leather of his steel-toed boot.

Joel relaxes then, arms spread wide over the back of the couch, fingers gripping loosely into the cushion. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart.” Joel comforts, sensing your brimming nervousness as your fingers trailed along his calf, the hard press of his boot right against your core and if you tried hard enough, it wouldn’t take long at all—knowing that even just a little bit of encouragement from Joel and friction could have you coming undone. But, he wants you to work for it.

You start slow, a subtle grind of your hips that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. You sigh softly at the relief, noticing the slowly growing smirk on Joel’s face that you’re trying to avoid, eyes falling shut slowly as you tip your head back, allowing a slow rhythm to start.

“Feels good?” Joel wonders, “Like the idea of me carryin’ somethin’ of you around with me?”

In more ways than one—by a simple gift from the kindness of your heart, but also the desperation of the slick that damped your underwear and painted a perfect mess over his boot.

You nod quietly, moaning softly as you angle your hips to allow the drag of your clit over the solidness of the boot, friction sending your eyes rolling back in your head, hands fisting into the thick denim and selfishly using it for leverage as you quickened your pace.

“That’s right, baby—want you to think about coming all over my boot for me,” Joel encourages, “can you do that?”

Truthfully, you were holding back. Seeing just how much you could get out of him.

But, Joel catches onto your game.

“You need a little encouragement?” Joel asks curiously, chin cupped in his strong grip, nodding obediently. “Think you deserve that, baby?”

“Please—please, Joel.” You beg, “Fuck—please, I’ll do—”

“Don’t say anything, darlin’.” He warns, “Not when you don’t know what that means for you.”

He keeps your eyes locked on his, squeezing your cheeks gently when you start to fade, the slowly building tingle in your core that wasn’t as easily ignorable now, coiled in your belly and ready to explode. You lose yourself for a brief second, hand fisting into the slack bunch of denim atop his thigh, earning a dull but stern slap to your cheek to bring your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” Joel coos, fisting the hard line of his cock under the strained denim with his free hand, looking slightly pained at how much he was holding back himself, “look at you—always eager to please, huh?”

You roll your eyes slightly—and Joel really doesn’t like that. His hand cradling the base of your neck as he holds you still, body pulled just centimeters away from his boot, leaving your pussy throbbing with a lack of contact that your body craved.

“Now you just look a little pathetic, don’t you?” Joel asks, “All needy for my fuckin’ boot—got her beggin’ for it, don’t I?” And you know he’s not addressing you directly, rather the pool of your own slick, shiny wetness on the toe of his boot that gives you away.

He nudges it against your clit gently, earning a soft whine as you hips instinctively seek for friction—Joel takes a slightly more firmer stance, head cradling both of his hands as he holds you prisoner in his gaze, two thick fingers slipping into your open mouth and grinning at how pathetically and greedily you suck on the digits without having to be told, removing them with a loud pop and a thin string of spit that connects you to him.

And if he was a stronger man, he could hold off. But, he’s so weak around you he can’t even hide it. He lets go in an instant, reaching for the front of his own jeans as he shoves them down his hips until he can manage to slip his cock out over his underwear, fisting himself in an instant.

Staving himself on patrols was torture when all he could think about was you—so he knows it won’t take much. Hell, he’s surprised with how long he’s been able to hold off now.

You admire with a haughty gaze, slowly resting back against the base of his boot, watching his free hand slip under his heavy sack, massaging as he jerks his fist without much rhythm, blinded by his own selfish need for release.

“Keep goin’,” He encourages through a tight breath, “but don’t fuckin’ come, darlin’.”

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing, wishing that it was his cock stuffed inside of you rather than the plane of his boot pressed against your pussy, the thickness of his fingers alongside the girthiness of his cock a blatant reminder of how deeply you felt him in the mornings and even days after, always fucked so throughly it had you reeling and constantly crawling back for more.

He jerks himself selfishly, eyes falling shut as he feels himself dragging too close to the edge, your moans gaining in intensity, knowing how pathetic you would both look to anyone else. But, there was no one to judge you here—and Joel was beyond feeling the need to be assertive, rather just needing you, to be inside you and have you snug around him and crying on his cock.

Joel pulls you out of your daze hastily, manhandling you until you’re back is flat against the couch, quickly shoving his jeans down far enough that they don’t become a hindrance as he pulls your underwear aside and slips inside of you with a solid push of his hips, the slickness of your cunt allowing no resistance as you both groan at how good it feels, eyes connecting for a brief moment before everything goes black…or white.

Joel isn’t sure what he sees, but it only takes a few minutes of some hurried and desperate pumps of his hips as his cock nudges that particular spot deep inside of you that has you clawing at the bare skin you could reach, leaving red marks on his neck as he snaps his hips with a finality, coming with a low groan that has your legs shaking, bent nearly in half as he still manages to see through his own haze and drag his fingers over your clit—it doesn’t take more than a couple seconds before you're there, spasming around his cock with a sob, gasping at his overstimulating touch as he continues to press and circle your clit until you’re begging him to stop, his hips slowly pumping his cum inside of you.

Joel finds himself laying slack against you, pants down at his ankles as he allows your fingers to thread through his grown out curls from where his head rests against your chest, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

“I appreciate the boots,” He says after a while, “if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” You giggle softly.

“Seriously, no more gifts, though.” Joel says sternly, “I mean it.”

You pout slightly and Joel catches it, his eyes flicking up to look at you.

“I’m makin’ no promises to that.” You tell him truthfully.

Joel chuckles softly, “Can’t say I expected you to, either.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x fem!reader #my writing #pedrostories

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pascalssbabyy · 5 months

Text

The Accidental Solution

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Word Count: 17.1k (wtf am I okay?!)

Summary: Joel accidentally walks in on you naked when you’re fresh out of the shower. The situation as you expected leaves questions in the air and Joel to avoid you as much as he can. That’s until you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, no use of Y/N, age gap (Joel is 52 but age of reader is not specified), friends to lovers, plot of how Joel and reader met, description of readers body but again not that specific, sub!Joel, insecure!Joel (he just needs some lovin), but also mean!Joel, Joel gets called a good boy (oops?), pet names, dirty talking, M!masturbation, Joel having filthy thoughts 💭, blowjob, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex (don’t be naughty!), creampie.

Okay listen, I don’t know how the hell this turned into a 17k fic but here we are 🤦🏻‍♀️ why do I have to be someone who has to write in so much detail (because shit this took me ages 😭) anyway… I hope enjoy 🤣 and let me know what you think! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I know it’s been a while! 🥹

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @mumma-moonchild @chyannealaniz @millercontracting 🤍

Warm water cascades down your bare back and shoulders as the heat begins to unravel all those aches and tight knots in your worn-out muscles. You can slowly feel your body letting loose from the long day you’ve just endured; the lengthy walks, the cold nights, the tense stretch felt in the soles of your feet swiftly easing from the water pooling on the shower floor. The steam starts to travel up, surrounding the enclosed walls and clearing up your sinuses. You can smell the freshness of your shampoo and conditioner, the floral scent giving you that comforting feeling of finally being back in the familiarity and safety of your own home. You lather all your products in between your fingers and palms, rubbing them deep into your scalp and across your body, your fingertips massaging the headache and ringing in your ears.

You’re happy to be home. Eyes observing the clock and knowing before your shift even started that patrol this time would be a long one; abruptly waking up at dawn to the repetitive sound of beeping coming from your alarm on your bedside table, tired eyes failing to adjust to the sun rising through the split of your curtains and fighting to pull yourself out of the warmth of your covers. Mornings were always a struggle for you. Attempting to get through your morning routine, having breakfast and quickly getting ready for the day. Your shift goes by smoothly which you’re thankful for, but once it’s over it seems to remind you that you’re returning home to another day gone so soon, your walk back home filled with empty streets and dark skies.

🍃🍃 A few months ago 🍃🍃

You knew Tommy was hesitant at first glance when you’d offered him an extra set of hands with patrol duty. His wide eyes and furrowed brows peering down at you, displaying nothing but a face full of determination and so much willingness. His reaction didn’t surprise you and never bothered you in the slightest, already expecting that certain response from people and knowing exactly why.

You were young; soft in personality and had a pure heart, always being able to see the good in all people. You weren’t someone who belonged within the dangers that surrounded the outskirts of Jackson, and it was rare for someone who’d been in a world that held endangerment and risk to still have that positive outlook on it. But that wasn’t all that you were. You were also devoted and strong-willed, knowledgeable of outside life and full of eagerness, so it didn’t take long to prove to Tommy that you were just what he needed to get the job done.

You were dedicated, fast on your feet and capable of doing and making any necessary decisions to help others you worked with. After a few shifts, you began to notice how the rest of the team started to warm up to you, considering you were still fairly new and just making your way around the ins and outs of the job. Apart from this, everyone who you worked with was kind, respectful and you were able to make a few friendships along the way with a different range of people.

That’s what you enjoyed about the job, how effortless it was for you to get on with the community, and how welcoming they were to any newcomer.

Of course you knew you’d come across certain situations that would have you questioning yourself; how could it be dealt with. How to get around it as efficiently and effectively as you could make it. You were ready for that moment to arise, but what you didn’t expect was that this was first coming your way in the shape of a man. Tommy’s older brother in fact.

And his name was Joel Miller.

You’d heard the name, the way it was whispered around town, eyes unable to look away when said person was nearby. Tommy had mentioned his brother a few times around you, whether it was in meetings or general conversations, and what you had gathered so far was that Joel had been new to Jackson for just a few weeks when he started patrolling, barely having time to settle down in the new environment and heading straight to protecting the people of the town. It didn’t surprise you that Joel was immediately giving himself a persona of negativity and dislike, being a hard man to please and someone who had no intention of getting to know people apart from the obvious; Tommy, Marie and Ellie. He was intimidating, vague and held a stern facial expression that had everyone stepping back.

You knew it was coming. Joel had made his way around certain shifts with different people who’d found it difficult to break him out of his hard, concealed character. So when Tommy mentioned that your next shift was with someone who you hadn’t yet worked with, it didn’t take you long to know exactly who that person was going to be.

Tommy meets up with you before your shift starts, expecting that if he somehow warns you about Joel first, it’ll make the situation less tense. “You see my brother…,” he lets out a deep sigh, “he’s…he’s a complicated man. He’s not one for talking or getting to know people.” You can see Tommy wince slightly at his own words, having a picture already drawn up in his head with how this’ll go.

“I just wanna try one shift with you. To see what he’s like.”

You weren’t someone to say no, conscious that Tommy was already having a hard time getting his brother to ease up to people. You give him a reassuring smile and nod at his request, and happy in yourself that you receive a smile back, his stance now not as tense and face softening at your reply.

Everyone you’d worked with so far had been fine, shifts running in order, so you thought surely he’s not that bad.

To your surprise, it’s worse than bad. It’s just unwelcoming.

The first time Tommy introduced Joel to you he didn’t even bother to shake your hand, small arm outstretched ready to finally meet the man whose name had been on your mind since you’d heard it. The way he’d take a glance at you and just grunt when you told him your name, with that simple look of unimpressed planted across his features. Joel knew he didn’t have to mention his own, certain that he was already known around the people of Jackson. What was even worse than his rude posture and not-so-open welcome was that he had very little vocabulary and a miner attitude in having any sort of conversation, just simply having no interest in others and just wanting to get on with things without distractions.

Even with his not-so-keen introduction, his ways of communicating should take you back, upset you in some way or maybe even annoy you. That’s what you expected from yourself but somehow it did the exact opposite. Yes, he was rude but you knew behind that harsh exterior held someone who’d just been through a lot, done things he knew were wrong but for reasons he knew deep down was right. His eyes held a lot of his true self. They were a dark brown colour but were so soft, eyes you could get lost in if you looked in them for too long. They were so different in comparison to how he showed his persona, how he stood his ground.

So when you’d mentioned to Tommy that you didn’t mind having more shifts with his brother he seemed taken aback. “You sure?” he says, tone high and dubious, “I don’t want you sayin’ that just cause of what is said—”

“Tommy…,“ you console him before he can get you rethinking your decision, giving him a light chuckle. “I’m sure. I’m more than happy to have him around more. Wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.”

You can see that Tommy’s grateful, going through certain shift plans with you and letting you know which ones you and Joel will be paired on together.

You can feel the butterflies flutter in your lower stomach, an unknown feeling tickling its way up your spine. Could it be nervousness? Maybe doubt? Or perhaps you’re feeling sceptical about your abilities to change the way Joel perceives you.

Or maybe, just maybe, deep within yourself, that feeling you felt was excitement.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

You and Tommy had agreed on a few shifts a week working with his brother, just to see how you’d both get on with one another. Tommy demanded updates from you every time you got back from patrol and each time, the feedback became more positive; the shifts not being as awkward or dealing with Joel’s quiet moods, his negative attitude.

He starts to become more at ease with your presence. You begin to see more of what you knew he wanted people to see, to understand.

You liked how with each minor conversation you had with him they’d become longer, talking back and forth about everything and anything you could get out of him. His replies back now came from a place of interest, wanting to let out any built-up resentment or just wanting to talk about the little things.

Of course, he was adamant about you in the beginning, but what you began to realise was that Joel was someone who needed time and patience. Time to trust and accept you and others around him. That people weren’t there to be his enemy, they were there to show him that Jackson was good and that he was in a community that would keep him and Ellie safe.

You started to like having him around, warmth building in your chest when you’d look at the patrol board and see his name right next to yours, even when you knew already that you were on shift together. The more he opened himself up to you the more you craved his company. You’d never met anyone like him, so it didn’t seem to shock you that you’d started to see him in a different light.

It hadn’t taken long for your feelings to develop into a minor crush, subtly taking longer glances at him when he wasn’t looking, heart pumping out your chest when you’d make him smile or chuckle at something you said. You were aware that he wasn’t like this with many people, being so open the way he was, and the thought had you blushing.

You’d take time to admire all his frame; his wide shoulders, his broad arms hidden in his thick coat, mind picturing what he’d look like without any fabric covering his physique. Even in the cold weather, his skin was tanned in colour, his hands large and fingers thick. His hair was scattered in salt and pepper strands, with tight curls that rested atop his furry collar. You’d wonder what it’ll be like to run your hands through them, to even tug on them, him wincing at the pull as you cover your lips around his neck and jaw.

His nose framed his face, soft brown eyes and a scattering of wrinkles around his temples and forehead. Fuck he was attractive, and the in-depth staring started to become a continuous reminder that Joel was a man much older than you, which only made you like him that much more.

You struggled to conceal the hidden desire that shivered up your back when he told you his age, “uh…I’m 52. Been doin’ this for a long time… N’too damn long if y’ask me.” You give him a short and sweet reply, too afraid your voice would give you away with how badly it turned you on.

Fuck you definitely shouldn’t be attracted to someone twice your age.

It comes to into full effect when he starts calling you certain names; every once in a while, a darlin’ or sweetheart leaves his carefree lips when he asks you for a favour, or when he initiates a certain change of plan when necessary. The words glided off his southern tongue so smoothly, having to clench your thighs together to ease the ache you felt for him.

He had changed every single aspect of your thoughts. Wondering what he would be like if he’d give himself a chance to feel. To give himself a moment of vulnerability. Was it something that he’d even allow himself to have? To drop his guard down just a little and delve into that part of him that maybe he hadn’t felt in a long time.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel wasn’t someone for getting too close to people.

It had been that way for him for as long as he could remember, and he knew it was selfish, but that’s the way he wanted it.

And it was so easy for Joel, not to feel. To not be someone whose emotions got in the way of everything. To be a person who was closed off and shut down that part of himself that made him feel anything other than his own protection. This meant he’d never get hurt, even if it meant damaging people in the process.

It was until he’d become acquainted with you, he’d question everything he’d set his mind to.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel doesn’t remember the last time he’d felt so intimidated by someone. He was shocked at how quickly it had taken you to become confident around him straight from the get-go. You were keen to show him how knowledgeable you were, how you’d face any problem with intelligence and no trouble. And he hated to admit it, but he liked how ahead of the game you were, how you took everything on with attentiveness.

It had been a long time since Joel had met someone like you.

He’d never let you know this. Joel was too proud and stubborn to admit that you had challenged him first-hand and that you’d started to make him question his ability to be someone who’d work better on their own.

The more shifts the both of you were on together and being within each other’s company, Joel had noticed his shoulders weren’t as tense as they’d usually be. His body became less formal and opened up to your company and the warmth that radiated off of you. He liked how you brought out that side of him that he thought had disappeared. It was even rare that at certain points in the shifts your humour and wit would catch him, small and subtle chuckles escaping deep in his chest.

You had fire and you were headstrong, determined to get him to let go of that rough ego and just be himself around you, which Joel initially though he’d hate, but it didn’t take long for him to privately crave the attention you gave him.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

A few months into patrolling, Tommy had set you and Joel up as official partners.

Your constructive feedback at the end of each shift had Tommy already making the clear decision to pair you both up permanently.

Even noticing himself how well you were getting on with his brother, and how you both thought it would be the best option for him. To stay with someone who he knew he got on with. To Joel’s surprise he didn’t mind, knowing that you worked well together and got on with the job quickly and efficiently.

Throughout the months of getting to know each other, the relationship between you two had developed into something much more than work colleagues and had eventually made its way out of patrol hours. On a whim, you’d asked Joel if he wanted to grab a drink with you after one shift you had together which was rougher than usual. You knew this was a big offer and Joel, as always seemed hesitant, but after a moment of silence, he accepted your invitation. Because fuck he could do with a drink right about now.

This then turned into a routine for the both of you. Meeting for a late night cap after your shifts were over and also in your free time, either having a few at the Tipsy Bison or at each others houses.

🍃🍃 Present Day 🍃🍃

This of course was no different tonight. Patrol running fondly and you both getting back to Jackson much earlier than anticipated.

Once you arrive back at the gates you look up towards Joel. “So…same tonight Joel? Wanna pop by mine and grab a drink if you’re free?” You secretly adored how Joel would react when you’d ask him to come over, still slightly unsure and not used to your kindness and simply wanting to be with him. While he stares down at you in thought, all you can think is please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. And after what feels like minutes have gone by, he gives you a gentle smile, “yeh sure darlin’. Just need to pop by mine n’ I’ll be over.”

You nod at him, grinning at his acceptance until eventually you part ways, rushing back home and hoping he’ll give you enough time to quickly freshen up until he comes round.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel gets to yours in no time at all, making his way up your porch and standing outside your front door. He knocks on your door a couple of times, ready to hear your small footsteps and see your wide smile welcoming him inside your home.

Whilst he continues to stand there, trying to wait patiently, you don’t answer. He waits a few more moments until knocking again and doing so much louder this time, but after another minute of waiting…you still haven’t answered.

He knows this isn’t like you; front door opening the second you hear his hard knocks echoing through the four walls of your front room, barely giving him enough time to prepare himself and ushering him inside with your open body language and sweet voice.

It makes Joel think that you’re somewhat excited that he’s here.

He isn’t worried, that’s what he wants himself to think and he knows he shouldn’t be, trusting you fully with how you carry your independence and welfare. The many times he’s been inside your home you’ve always reassured him that you don’t take longer routes back and that once your shifts are over, you’re making yourself straight home.

But yet why does his chest suddenly feel slightly heavier? Why does his throat feel tight and restricted? You would have got home by now, so why aren’t you here? He’d never doubt you by all means, but right now he needs to know if you’re safe.

So he thinks fuck it, and lets himself inside.

You two had become close enough now that he’d know you wouldn’t mind if he walked into your house on his own accord, especially with the unknown certainty of your wellbeing in his thoughts and it becoming his main concern.

He pulls down the door knob, initially thinking to himself, please be unlocked, and thankfully when it is, he lets himself inside. Firstly he checks the front room and kitchen, which are both encased in darkness, softly being lit by the moonlight sliding through the sheer curtains hanging on your window rods. He lets out a frustrated sigh, you’re nowhere to be seen.

He calls your name, followed by a darlin’, y’here? Again, no answer. Once both rooms are looked over he’s making his way upstairs, his large boots creaking across each step, careful not to trip over himself. He notices that the first door which he suspects is your bedroom is halfway open, the absence of light clouding the room and just the gleam from the landing light outside dimly illuminating the space. He gently opens the door and like the others, the rooms are empty. Once he’s about to make his way back downstairs, you waltz out the bathroom.

You were naked. Towel in both hands and currently drying the ends of your hair, with soft hums of a song vibrating along your sealed lips and eyes closed. Mind oblivious to Joel's now wandering gaze.

Joel couldn’t move, his body frozen and lascivious eyes glancing down at every inch of your bare skin that was visible to him.

Your hair was drenched with droplets of water falling seamlessly onto your shoulders and goosebumps covered the skin of your arms from the abrupt coolness that hit your body once you walked out of the warm and steamed-covered bathroom.

Your breasts were fully in view, the shape of them accentuating your waist and your nipples hard from the cold temperature change.

It was like Joel’s life had instantaneously gone in slow motion, and fuck he was so grateful for it. His eyes mapped out every line and curve of your smooth skin, how the water covered you and cascaded down your body making you glisten in the dim light.

His knees buckle under him when his eyes land in between your legs, his vision getting a subtle glimpse of your sex.

He can feel his cock growing for you, becoming hard and twitching with need. He has no control over it, and he knew if he looked down now there’d be an evident tent expanding in the thickness of his denim jeans.

Your eyes abruptly open when you feel a radiation of heat in front of you, your throat letting out a surprised yelp. Your limbs act quickly, throwing the towel across your bare chest so it covers your upper body and ends just above your knees, swiftly giving yourself some dignity.

It takes a moment for you to contemplate what’s happening in such a quick amount of time, and once you realise it’s Joel who’s stood in front of you, seeing you naked and who’s in such close proximity to you, you jump at the act.

“Fuck Joel!” You squeal in surprise.

Those two words spring Joel into action. Who the fuck does he think he is? He knew he was expected here but never like this. You must think he’s a creep, wandering into your house to catch you so exposed and open, and all for him, just for his own personal pleasure.

He brings his large hands up to his face, palms covering his now reddish features and blocking all images of you out of his mind. His voice gets stuck and his words stutter in his chest, all thoughts fogged and glazed over, hoping anything will come to mind as to what he can do to explain himself.

Your hands clutch your chest tightly, your touch easing the thumping of your heart. “Jesus Christ Joel…,” you chuckle awkwardly, “you scared the shit out of me.”

He looks down at your stairs, body retreating to provide you with some comfort and to insinuate that he’s not trying to make you feel uncomfortable.

“F-fuck darlin’, I—shit, I’m sorry,” the words fall quickly off his lips in hasted rambles, voice attempting to explain why he’s put you in this situation. “Y-you weren’t answering the door I thought—fuck I don’t know what I was thinkin’—I thought somethin’…”

The more he hears the miserable attempt in his tone, he knows there are no words that’ll make this circumstance any better, so he comes up with the next best solution.

“M’gonna go. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Before you can help relax his nerves, his feet are moving faster than his thoughts, throwing all his weight down each step of your stairs and straight to the door, not even daring to look back, dreading to see that look of shock and how flushed your face had become from his sudden presence. He needed to get out and get out quickly, slamming your front door firmly shut and leaving you in silence.

The loud bang causes your whole body to flinch, shoulders and face wincing inwards from the harsh sound.

You never expected this to be the way it would go. Bluntly coming face to face with the man who’s been lingering on your thoughts right in front of you, him now seeing every part of you, slowly being uncovered by his lengthy stare.

His face was in full shock, eyes wide and mouth fully agape, all of his warm colour being ripped away from his features, but his feelings kept unrecognisable as he eyed your body up and down.

You cannot help but think to yourself; Why did it make you feel so good, seeing him become so shy and flustered in comparison to his hard and demanding nature? Knowing that you were the one who pulled his guard down. Seeing that undisclosed side of him that you’d never get a chance to see.

You begin to wonder what he’d thought. Did he like what he saw? Would he think about you when he’d return home? What could’ve possibly happened if he hadn’t scurried off when he did? The different scenarios cause your heart to race again, a toying smile caressing its way across your face.

But then maybe his reaction was out of pure disbelief, not wanting to present you with the thought that he was giving you the wrong impression. False hope. And that it was just a simple mistake and he’d never want it mentioned again.

You don’t move from your spot on the landing, feet concreted to the ground and mind puzzled, racing with too many questions that you know can’t yet be answered.

So for right now, all you know is that this is going to be something that could possibly change your relationship with Joel, either for the better or for the worse.

And you beg it’s the first option.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel feels humiliated. He feels ashamed. He knows he’ll never be able to come back from this, having possibly ruined the relationship that he knew you had ought to seek out of him for so long. That moment his eyes had finally seen you so intimately he knew his current feelings for you were now out of his control, and that he would never be able to keep his thoughts about you hidden, like he had been doing pretty much since he had got to know you.

It’s become too much for him to bear. What the fuck is he going to do. He’s completely embarrassed of himself and too much of a coward to face you. He needs time away from you, to alleviate the stress he’d put on himself.

So he decides to change his routine altogether so he can avoid you as much as he can. To avoid the crumbling mess that he’s made. But no matter how many times he tries to sidestep the obstacles of that sudden consequence. He sees you everywhere.

Whether it’s in the mornings. Just when you were about to start your shift with whoever it was you were now working with, fuck he wanted it to be him. Or either at the canteen eating your breakfast or through the frosted window of the Tipsy Bison, clutching a drink in hand, with just an empty stool and silence beside you to keep you company.

He feels terrible, fully conscious of your confusion as to why he’s pushing himself away from you, leaving you with numerous questions in the thickened air that now surrounds the two of you, and Joel having no intention of answering them.

It had been a long time since Joel had allowed himself to feel or do anything other than protect himself and others, and he was fucking terrified that out of all the people he had been acquainted with throughout the years that it was you that had these unknown feelings of wishing and wanting someone resurfacing. Even during and before Tess, Joel had never been interested in those sorts of relationships, until now with you.

Joel had lost a lot of people he’d put his care and trust into, and every single time that affliction happened it crushed him down even further than the last.

He thought that maybe if he’d push you away intentionally, he wouldn’t have to deal with losing you all together.

He knew that empty void inside could easily be filled if he allowed himself to relish in the feelings he felt for you, and deep down he wanted nothing more than to show it to you, but his mind and body had been deprived of it for so long he’d simply forgotten how to.

How could he just become so honest and vulnerable in such a short space of time, and with someone he’d only known for a couple of months, even if your relationship had developed quicker than any other he’d had? How can he be with you in such an intimate way and come full face to face with the truth?

Because fuck, it had been way too long since Joel had given another woman pleasure.

He knew it was wrong. The wanting. The craving he felt for you. And you were so much younger than him it made his chest hurt. He knew what people would say if they found out, Joel being involved with a much younger girl. He cared more about what people thought of him than his own and it pushed his feelings down even further.

You had been so soft and sweet and kind to him when all he wanted to do at the start was ignore you altogether. He was so impolite when he barely introduced himself to you, and the fact you had swallowed down the rudeness of his words with a smile, he knew you’d forever change him.

He wanted you so bad, and it felt like a huge weight off his shoulders once he’d finally admitted it to himself. But it wasn’t just your beauty that had him questioning his whole life’s purpose and what he believed he wanted. It was how confident you were, and the way that confidence radiated off you. How you’d persevere when people or life threw obstacles at you. And you were so fucking welcoming to everyone that added to it.

Just seeing you for all you were, so supple and bare and open to his gaze just moments ago was just the last straw for him to cave in and just accept his feelings.

He knows it’s bad but there’s not one ounce of him that feels any regret. The constant pondering of what you’d look like finally coming to light, and it is better than anything that he’d pictured.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

The moment his feet make their way through his front door he’s rushing his body through the house and straight up the stairs, not even bothering to switch on any of the lights or even question if Ellie was home. Once he’s upstairs he takes himself into the bathroom and turns the shower on so cold water runs out of the fossil. His skin feels hot to the touch, burning sweat coating his forehead and clothes suffocating him as he frantically shreds the fabric that clings tightly to him.

He hisses through his teeth, the cold water falling onto his bare back and shoulders, trickling down his body and cooling his heated condition. His breathing is laboured, chest rising and falling in quick bursts while he attempts to calm himself.

He pushes his body forward, eyes meeting the floor and preparing himself for the crisp temperature as the water pours onto his hair, the wet strands dropping in front of his face as he allows his head to fall in defeat.

He’s hard. His cock standing strong in between his thighs and aching. His tip was red in desperation, with that tight coil of pressure rising in his low abdomen.

He shouldn’t. But his minds to overpowered with the need to come he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t, he might pass out.

A low grunt rattles in his chest when his shaky hand wraps around his shaft, stomach muscles clenching and legs quivering with need.

He can’t take it slow, fucking his hand at a vigorous pace and already feeling his peak creep its way up to the surface. His head hangs back over his shoulders, eyes falling shut and small, deprived moans leaving his lips.

His tip is so sensitive he can feel it everywhere and all over his body, pre-come pooling at his slit and covering his fingers as he uses his other hand to grip the shower wall in front of him.

The moment his vision is blurred and his mind explores all of his demands, all he can see is you. The image of you carefully opening the shower curtain, your body exposed and knees falling onto the shower floor as you take his cock into your mouth, savouring the salty flavour and pushing him to the back of your throat.

He thinks about how you’d look; mouth so small compared to his thick cock and using your hands to wrap what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, wetting every inch of him with your saliva, and swallowing his release down with that sweet smile you curse him with.

He’s going to come, and it’s happening painfully quickly. Your appearance bringing him so so close to his orgasm that it’s like he has no control of his own body, yourself having full dominance over him and you weren’t even there.

He stutters over his words, those exact words he wishes he could really say to you, “fuck darlin’ that’s it. You’re—shit y’gonna m-make me—.”

He inhales in a sharp breath and his body eventually lets go, his cock left without release for too long as his hand continues to tug on his thickness in irregular and faltered motions, pleasure rippling through his whole body like a tidal wave.

His release runs down his fingers and spurts on the tile wall. And there’s so much of it. His cock is pulling so much neglect from him that his other hand has to grab into the shower curtain to hold himself up.

His mind races through the thoughts of how your mouth or cunt would feel in comparison to his hand. The way you’d swallow all of him down your throat, opening your mouth to show him exactly how good you were for him, mouth all empty and tongue licking your lips to taste all of his come. And fuck he knows you’d be so tight; so warm and soft as he’d fill you with all of him, your eyebrows knitting together in slight discomfort from the stretch. He’d know you’d take him so well, begging him to fuck you like he knows you truly deserve.

He freshens himself up and makes his way into bed, hoping that sleep will give him some sort of a stress-free night, and to mostly block out the image of you. Joel feels that regret instantly, knowing too well that he shouldn’t have let his body take over him the way it did.

Joel already knew it was going to be a long night.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

Joel avoids you like the plague.

His way of steering himself away from you has gotten so bad that he’s asked for his patrol shifts to be with other people, and to be cut to shorter hours to avoid you completely. His reasons are that he wants to try again with previous partners, saying that he was harsh with them before and wants to do better. Or he’s too occupied with things at home and with Ellie. You didn’t even hear this from Joel himself, Tommy confessing it to you one morning when your patrol shift was about to start.

Whether it be in the early mornings at the canteen or weekly patrol meetings; he’d be up and off the moment you’re entering the building, chair tucked under the table and the entrance door opening and closing before you can get the chance to scan him out from the crowd. He’d even begun to skip his daily drink at the Tipsy Bison, which he never missed out on. He’d just make his way back as soon as his shifts were over, muttering quiet goodbyes and marching his way down the street and straight home.

His absence makes your heartbreak. Did he think the situation was that bad? Was he that embarrassed by it that he’d made the decision to avoid you forever? It wasn’t you that had made the situation awkward and it didn’t have to be. You thought he’d come up to you by now, but yet still after the two-week mark, you hadn’t spoken one word to one another.

You want to scream till your voice aches, till that hurt in your throat replaces the other pain felt low in your chest. You want to let out that built-up frustration that had begun to boil over, to talk to someone who could easily give you hope about the whole situation.

And that one person who you knew could help, didn’t want to talk to you.

You need answers and you know you have to talk to Joel eventually, even if he didn’t want to. This circumstance can’t go on for much longer and the both of you know it. So if it has to be you to initiate it first. Then so be it.

You don’t know what suddenly gives you that burst of energy and confidence to confront him, but your body’s moving before your mind can even process where it’s going.

🍃🍃🍃🍃🍃

It’s late. But not too late at night so you know Joel will still be up and that you won’t be disrupting him. Once you freshen up after your patrol shift you’re making your way to his house, the walk from your home not being too far from his which you’re thankful for. Your mind attempts to drift elsewhere; analysing other things as you know if you reflect for too long about the possible outcomes, your mind will start to counter multiple reasons as to why this is indefinitely a bad idea.

But then was it such a terrible idea? The both of you were grown adults and people who were now close enough to be able to talk to one another and to have a reasonable conversation.

Without having any opportunity to regret your decision and give yourself more time to back out, you’re standing right in front of his porch, feet walking up the few steps and hand now inches away from knocking on his front door. You take a final deep breath in through your nose and exhale out your mouth, giving a few gentle knocks as you wait for Joel to open.

How long have you been standing here? Would he even answer knowing it was you who was waiting nervously behind the door? Fuck, maybe he was asleep. Yeah, he’s definitely ignoring—

Your ears pick up that sound. Those familiar boots treading across old oak flooring, getting louder and more prominent with each step until finally the door opens and a tall frame stands in the doorway.

Well you think…this is it.

“Hey Joel…” your voice is quiet and just slightly above a whisper, like your throats pushing it straight back down, too anxious to speak as you take all of him in.

He looks tired, his hair fuzzy and sticking up in different directions. Fuck maybe he was sleeping. His beard hasn’t been trimmed, but the stubble brings out the sharpness of his jaw. He’s wearing a checkered flannel, a dark forest green with burgundy red crossed stripes, the fabric buttoned up only halfway showing the bare tanned skin of his chest underneath it. Your eyes drop down to the sight of his chest and quickly rise back up to his face, heart pounding and mind racing with all the thoughts of what you’d rather want to be doing to him at this defining moment.

His face drops when he sees you, and fuck it hurts to see it. His stare wanders around you like he’s lost. You can see that distinct look in his eye, like his mind playing tricks on him, and dumbfounded as to why you were here on his porch so late at night, with that look of distress on your face and in need of answers.

“Uh, hey…”, he runs his hand through his hair. An act he hopes would proceed as confidence, but he’s worried it’s showing every ounce of apprehension running through him, “what are y’doin—“

You beat him before he can finish his sentence. “D’you mind if I come in? I thought we could talk.”

Joel’s said no plenty of times, and it’s such an easy word for him to say. Mostly all of his life he’s been rejecting people and saying that one term more than he could count. But with you, no doesn’t exist in his vocabulary, “yeh—,” he coughs out the strain in his voice, “uh yeh. Sure darlin’.” He moves his frame to the side, “come in.”

You smile at him before making your way past him and into his home. And once you step in, the side of your arm subtly grazes his front, your body trying to abstain from his touch. The hold he has on you and he doesn’t even know it. Feeling him so close for just a second has your mind going dizzy, his body giving off so much warmth that has your cheeks heating up.

You make your way inside so you’re now standing in the middle of his front room. And once you’re inside…it feels weird. You’ve been in his house plenty of times, but in this circumstance, it feels different to you. Like you’re seeing it from another perspective. The whole room feels bigger somehow, the décor and frames covering the old brick feeling somewhat unfamiliar and unrecognisable as you look around, hoping that the walls surrounding you will give you some sort of consolation.

Outside his house you felt confident to a certain degree, preparing yourself to get straight to the point but right now, your mind conjures through all the different scenarios that could possibly happen.

You hear the click of his door shutting, his frame coming into view as he just stands there and watches you watch him. It’s awkward, hardly having talked or even looked at one another for weeks. You try and break the silence. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I thought I’d pop by as I thought you’d still be up.”

His voice is quiet, “no you didn’t wake me. Just didn’t expect to see you that’s all.”

Of course he didn’t expect you, he’s been avoiding you as much as he could for the past couple weeks.

The silence is loud, bouncing off the walls and deafening. You can just about hear the voice in your head as it tells you to leave. It’s saying yes, yes this is a terrible idea and why did you come? He doesn’t want to see you. His feet can only just be picked up over the roaring in your ears as his boots make contact with the floor, his body moving only a few steps in.

He doesn’t look you in the eyes, “So…everythin’ alright?”

He has no reason as to why he’s said it, and he regrets it the second it leaves his lips, already knowing that everything’s not alright. That he’s aware of the suffering he’s put you through. How he’s constantly and intentionally ignored you for as long as he could, how he’s escaped all possible interactions with you.

You give him a blank stare, eyes boring into his faltering stance, “Uh...I don’t know Joel,” you cross both arms over your chest, “why don’t y’ask me.”

You were getting straight to the point, your courage outweighing his without question, something that he’d already anticipated the moment he’d see you again.

But yet, that’s what he loved about you. How you weren’t afraid just to throw yourself into situations that could become awkward, how self-assured you were to confront him about something he knew was out of his depth, and those lingering unknowns with what the consequences would entail.

But this doesn’t stop Joel from becoming flustered by your words, his stare firmly locked down at the floor, voice flat and one tone, “don’t know what y’mean.”

That makes you chuckle, his vague response causing the air in your lungs to contract, annoyance clearly being shown in your pitch, “oh Joel please. You don’t speak to me anymore and apparently have no fucking time for me. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and to even swap partners and cut your shifts short just because you want to avoid this. To avoid what’s clearly been bothering you.”

He can hear as each word falls from your lips the substantial burden he’s placed on you. And he feels awful for it. He never wanted it to go this way, him leaving you with nothing but his neglect on your side of things and not giving himself the chance to act on what he’s really been feeling.

The look of bewilderment is held strongly on his face, brows furrowed and mouth firmly fixed straight, blocking anything he might want to say. His posture remains restricted, bend forwards to hide himself from his own mistakes.

“I just…,” you let out an exhausted huff, “I don’t know what to do. What’s been going on with you lately? Why won’t you just talk to me. You’ve been so distant with me and I want to know why.”

He’s still stood near the door way. Hands down and glued firmly on his sides. He’s agitated, not having any ounce of preparation for your statement, his body being thrown into hot flames without hesitation.

He shrugs his shoulders, “s’nothing. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

You burst. “Bullshit Joel. I know it’s mostly because you walked in on me that one night. Because if so. I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. It was a simple mistake.”

His voice becomes much louder, and it surprises you. “What do you want me to say? Huh? Yes that’s the reason,” Joel now makes his way into the room, marching over in your direction, “and yes it’s a big fucking deal, okay?”

His statement has you easing, finally noticing that you’re getting somewhere with him. You want him to understand that even though his reaction came out of pure astonishment and humility, he didn’t have to act this way, even if you liked that he saw.

You attempt to calm him, “it doesn’t have to be Joel. Why can’t we just go back to—“

“Because I can’t get the image of you out of my god damn head. The way you looked I can’t…,” he eventually sighs in defeat, “I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s there every time I see you, even when I try n’avoid you you’re still in my head. It’s there when I close my fuckin’ eyes a night.”

You look up at his face, your expression is wide and body shaking with adrenaline. He’s frantically staring at you now, in desperate need for you to say anything as to why he knows this affair between you both is a bad idea.

“Joel—“ you say in condolence.

“I shouldn’t…fuck I shouldn’t. I know it’s bad and I know I shouldn’t be thinkin’ about you like that.” He runs his hands across his face. “It’s wrong darlin’—so wrong.”

It’s all starting to make sense, the missing pieces connecting and creating a full picture. The realisation hits you fill force; the reason as to why he’s been avoiding you, why he’s cutting down his hours and how he’s swapped his shifts around, all because his thoughts about you since that moment you both shared have had him questioning his feelings for you.

And that he liked what he saw.

Now that you’ve recognised his emotions, it strings your own into action. Gently moving yourself closer to him, taking small steps forward and watching for any doubt in his eyes, your words simple and hushed. “Joel. It’s not wrong. It’s okay.”

His shoulders stiffen when he catches how close you’ve gotten to him. He knows if you come close enough, it’ll have him pushing all reasoning out the way. He sees the way your body’s moving so intently, walking so slowly to him, his head already shaking in disagreement.

“I’ve wanted to talk about it…” his eyes visibly bearing the shame he’s felt in himself since he’d slammed your front door shut, “n’ I feel so fuckin’ bad for how I’ve been treating you. I jus’ didn’t know what to say or do to explain myself.”

Joel has your face softening as he tries to explain to you why he’s acted the way he has. Being too ashamed in himself to confront you about his reaction on that night, and how negatively his actions were after it.

You’re still making your way towards him, his words only spurring your movements on with nervous excitement building in your stomach. His eyes are fixated on your face, seeing nothing but acceptance and understanding washed over your facial features. And it makes his palms sweat, “sweetheart I—.”

“Joel just listen to me. If you’d had just talked t’me we wouldn’t be in this situation. We’re both close enough now that we should feel like we can talk to one another. N’whatever you’ve been feeling for me I’ve also been feeling for you. And if I’m being the honest one now, I’ve felt this way about you for a while. Fucking hell Joel if it’s taken us this long to admit it I’m glad you saw me like that.”

He backs away slightly, pulling himself from the magnet that’s forcing you so close to him. The pressure that surrounds him is suffocating, the tension in the room beginning to thicken, “I shouldn’t of— sweetheart it ain’t right. This. I can’t… “

He wants to give in, and he can tell that you can see it in him too, his body language yielding into you too easily. He needs to finally feel something he’s missed out on for so long, and fuck he wants that with you. It’s right here in front of him as your words and gaze initiate it, but now it’s in his grasps, his mind can’t seem to comprehend it.

The two of you are that close now he can feel the heat emitting off your body. But he can also sense that your still sceptical, not moving too close where you’d break the revealing traction that’s growing between the both of you. You look into his eyes, watching him earnestly. “And why not Joel? What’s stopping us from doing what we both know we’ve wanted for so long?”

And the fact is, there’s absolutely nothing. Not one single thing Joel can muster up or give any reason as to why he shouldn’t stop himself from having you, to take you right here and right now.

So he thinks of one pathetic excuse, and his face grimaces. “I’m a lot older than you sweetheart…”

His justification makes the corners of your mouth curve upwards. If only he knew. “You think I care about that? Joel there’s so much more you need to be worrying about these days. We’re living in an apocalypse for fuck sake. Your age has never been a bother for me.” Your eyes fall down to his mouth, “I actually like that you’re older. I like it a lot.”

A haltered exhale flows from his lips. All he can see is the pure want in your eyes, pupils dilated and eyelashes fluttering. He can feel the desire pouring out of you and drenching his skin, affecting him more than he thought it would.

He knows the more you stare at him the way that you are, with that look of just surrender Joel. I want you as much as you want me, he’ll do anything you want, no matter what the price may entail.

You gently place both of your hands onto his firm chest, but not too forcefully, hoping the touch would be just enough to ease him into you. You can feel the beating of his heart hitting the skin of your palms as his chest palpitates wildly. And that’s when you try and relax him, your hands moving up and down to inspect the newly felt part of him. You dig the tip of your fingers into his muscles to help relieve his rigid stance against you.

“Joel—,” his name falls so cautiously from your lips, so indifferent to how you usually say it. As this time it’s said with lust drooling off every letter. This moment has been replayed over and over in your thoughts too many times; how he’d feel so close to you, how his body would tower above you, how he’d gaze at you with need in his eyes, his mouth leaning in close to yours.

Your hands follow further up his chest and onto his shoulders, pulling at the neck of his collar so your hold makes contact with his bare skin, making more of his tanned chest visible to you.

You voice follows up his upper body, “I want this. And I know you do too. So don’t be nervous with me. Let me take care of you Joel...”

You step a little further in, his body as near as it can get and now brushing your front. Your hands stay where they are, your head falling back so you can see his face, your doe eyes peering into his, “please. Let me show you how much I want you.”

He doesn’t say anything, eyes locked on the shape of your lips and arms still placed at his sides. His form however leans into you voluntarily, begging him to just simply give in. His backs curved over, face almost level with yours as he waits patiently for whatever you want to do to him. You pull down on his shoulders just a little more and stand on your tip toes, luring his lips closer to yours.

You give a faint kiss to his mouth, just so subtly and quickly that he doesn’t have the time to react. His moustache tickles your top lip, and the sensation has your mouth quivering. You move your lips to the corner of his mouth, kissing him there once and then kissing his cheekbone, pouring every ounce of appreciation you have for him onto his skin. He breaths heavily against your face, his breathing low and eyes falling shut.

It’s his turn now, and you can slowly feel him returning the affection. With every graze of your mouth on his you can see the affect it has. Your body waits in anticipation, waiting for him to wrap his arms around you tightly, to squeeze and grip as much of you as he can.

You place another light peck on his lips, your mouth now hovering over his, the both of your faces only millimetres away from each other as your voice whispers the honest truth.

“I really need you Joel.”

His body shakes, tongue already salivating just from the slight taste of your lips on his mouth, so sweet as he finally gets a tease of how you feel. His arms that have been secured straight on his sides are reaching out to your safety, his embrace wrapping around your back, holding you close.

His eyes open so faintly, glancing down at where the two of you are lightly attached. And you’re so close. He can smell the freshness of your shampoo, he can feel your hands caressing his muscles, your needy touches igniting that fire inside of him. Your eyes tell him everything; that once hidden stare saying please Joel. Give in. Let me show you what you need.

He needs you, and he wants you to show him exactly what you want to give him. So he mumbles a low and greedy fuck before his mouth pushes strongly towards yours.

Once Joel moves in the rest of the way, you allow him more of your body to touch, arms wrapping round his neck and pulling his mouth down harder onto yours, small fingers threading though the soft curls on the nape of his neck.

When you brush your tongue across his lips he’s easily giving you access, opening his mouth wide as the both of you savour the taste of each other. A satisfied hum leaves your mouth and travels straight into his, your tongues dancing with one another.

His hold on you can’t let go, hands lifting up and grasping hard onto the back of your neck and knotting his fingers in your hair, growling in fervor as he continues to explore the inside of your mouth.

Your body contorts so effortlessly into his, moulding in shape as he bends forward to push himself so boldly into you, your spine curving backwards with the way he’s gripping you.

But you pull him back way too soon for his liking. He pinches your skin and prepares himself when he notices your feet are moving him backwards, his hands clinging onto you in until he feels the back of his knees hit the corner of the couch.

His whole body drops onto the sofa, the touch of your mouth and hands leaving complete numbness on his skin that he misses instantly. He holds onto the cushion and arm rest, knuckles turning white from the clench as he just watches you stand there, bearing down at him, with a gentle smile plastered across your face.

It feels so overwhelming. Seeing him like this. Having known Joel for as long as you have it hadn’t taken you long to uncover that cynical persona he’d put out for himself. Joel was strong. Joel was a man of integrity and leadership, so watching him melt into the palm of your hands has your insides tingling with control.

His eyes are steamed over and his mouths marginally open while he takes all of you in. You lean your body forward as your hands land on his chest, putting most of your weight on him to make yourself comfortable, your knees being placed on the sides of his legs and lowering yourself down on him.

Fuck he knows there’s no going back from here, now that you��re sitting on his lap, sighing in fulfilment when you drop yourself down on his thick thighs.

He knows you can feel his hard on, his cock becoming needful the moment your lips touched his. And he can’t help but feel embarrassed by it, how easy it’s been for you to have him right there, his body quickly responding to your hands on him.

You trace patterns on his arms, fingers following the creases of his flannel and hands moving up to his shoulders. His atmosphere’s hot and heavy underneath you, the trust in his own actions buried beneath him while he looks at all of you in complete awe.

You slot your hips more into him so they’re flushed up and close to his groin. Yep, you can definitely feel his cock now. You moan his name and your voice comes out strong, much more pronounced than he knows his will be. “Fuck Joel. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you like this.”

Joel bites back the desperation that pressurises the back of his throat, “christ sweetheart,” his shock is followed by a harsh swallow, “you can’t say that to me’.”

Your words have power over him, and you love it. You lean your lips down to the side of his face, mouth inches away from his ear as his stubble tickles the side of your face, “why not Joel? Don’t you wanna hear how badly I’ve wanted you.”

He doesn’t say anything whilst you continue to spur him on, your kisses travelling down his jaw and neck as his pulse rapidly beats against your mouth. You give a lingering kiss on his sweet spot, finding that place that has him shuddering under you.

He’s quiet. And you feel like you’re back at square one with him, hands not touching you and his words have disappeared. You’re now contemplating your own beliefs, his silence starting to come off as unsureness, mind fixated on too many things at once.

You try and make him feel less tense, “hey…” you brush the strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his face, also lifting his chin up to look you in the eyes, “talk to me Joel.”

Depending on who he’s with, Joel has always been a man of very few words, having never found the time or place to be so talkative or to make general conversation. But the situation you’ve put yourself in with him, silence is the last thing you want him to be.

You want him so much, but you can’t let your pure want overcome the circumstance too much, needing him to express that he’s wanted what’s about to happen as much as you have.

His voice is hesitant, “it’s jus’… y’sure? Y’sure you want to do this with me?”

“Yes,” the answer leaves your mouth in a instant, as it holds so much certainty in it and so much truth, “I’m sure Joel. Since the moment I met you I knew. You’re the only one I wanna do this with.”

This isn’t like him; his easy comebacks, his sarcastic jokes. You wonder where has that Joel gone? Why is he so concerned about you. You’re throwing yourself at him and he’s yet to catch you. It has your mind twisting and turning until…your eyebrows droop in, mind deciphering in understanding.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been taken care of. Hasn’t it Joel.”

He’s motionless, jaw firmly closed and hands still resting on the sofa, his touch only inches away from your thighs. “Answer me Joel,” you say in solace.

“Yes…,” he chokes out, fuck he’s feels stupid, eyes closing in complete surrender and voice trembling with how easily you’ve read him.

He expects you to laugh at him. To humiliate him. Tell him how can he be so weak with you when all he’s ever known is the hard life that’s been full of danger that lurks around each corner. How can this world that he’s had to adapt to pull such a doubtful response out of him.

But instead, you caress the stubble on his jaw in sympathy, and his head follows suit. You hold his face in the palm of your hands, your voice faint and warm, “poor Joel. It’s been a while since you’ve had someone want you like I do. Give you pleasure like I do. Someone who’s treated you right.”

He needed to hear you say that. Fuck he does want it, he wants to finally be the one who stands back and lets someone take over. And he wants it more than anything to be you to give it to him.

You clock your head to the side, “is that what you need Joel? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel? To show you what you’ve been missing out on?”

He nods his head embarrassingly.

Now you’ve got him. All he needed was time and patience, and your reassurance to get him there. You bring your thumb up and drag it across his bottom lip, your tone dropping an octave, “say it Joel. You don’t need to hide from me. I need to hear y’say it.”

He inhales in through his nose, praying to god that he can summon up the words to tell you exactly what he desires, “please darlin’. I need you—it’s been so long. Fuck I want you.”

You can feel your arousal seeping into your underwear from his pleas, his lack of sexual attention thoroughly soaking the material.

You rub your clothed core onto the tent in his jeans, moaning as his hard cock grazes your throbbing clit. A drawn out mmm fills the space between you, your tone of voice seductive, “good boy Joel.”

His groan pulls deep within his chest, he likes that. He likes how you praise him when he’s done something right, when he’s been good, when he’s done exactly what you wanted him to do.

His reaction has you biting your lip, “you like that don’t you Joel. Y’gonna be good for me? Gonna let me do what I want with you?”

His eyelids are half open. Yes he thinks, yes I’ll be the best for you. You can do absolutely anything you want to me and I’ll let you do it.

His response is clingy “yes. Fuck. Yes I’ll be good f’you.”

You smile at him, giving him a rewarding kiss on the lips. But before he can deepen it you pull back, Joel pouting at the coldness your mouth has left on him. You lower your gaze onto the fully grown bulge in his jeans, “you wanna know what I’ve thought about?”

He’s allowing you to say what you’re about to say without actually telling you to. Excepting that his body’s lost all power, your weight on him making him lightheaded, his mind becoming intoxicated.

“I’ve imagined what these big hands would feel like on my skin,” you articulate, taking ahold and tracing your fingers lightly across his wrists and over his calloused palms, using him however you please. You inspect them, noticing that his fingers are hard in texture, rough to touch but the rest of him is soft.

“I’ve picture your fingers across my cheeks…,” you use his knuckle to sooth your cheek, “and how they’d feel on my lips…,” and then bringing them down to your lips, “how easily they’d cover my breasts.”

You can hear the air falter in his throat, face locked on his hands that you’re using. You allow his hold to drop down your neck and lower to your chest, staying there for just a second until you lead them further up and back to your lips. “I’ve made myself come so many times with how these thick fingers would fill me up. Fuck Joel I know they’d stretch me out real nice.”

Well shit.

Your smirk against his fingers, “you want that don’t you. Want to feel how I’d struggle to just to take your fingers. How I’d come all over them. Preparing myself so it’ll be easier for me to take your cock afterwards.”

Joel feels like he could come just from your words alone. Every single syllable being exactly what he’d pictured in his head. He lets out a weak huff, “christ sweetheart. Fuck let me do that. You can use my fingers. Wanna feel you come on them—please.”

“You’ll have that soon Joel,” you coo, “ just let me have my fun first.”

You remove yourself just as he was about to ask you what you meant, standing back on both feet while he looks above you. His hands fall down onto his sides once again, knees bouncing in anticipation.

You remove your top, inching the fabric above your head and throwing it somewhere on the floor behind you. You give him a lascivious smile before your hands make their way behind you and unclasp your bra, your breast now visible and free from their confines, and to Joel’s wide stare.

Just as he was about to usher you back onto him with his grabby hands you’re unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the denim down your legs and leaving you in just your underwear. You waste no time in hooking your fingers into the thin material and sliding the final piece of clothing off your skin, showing all of yourself once again to Joel.

And it all floods back to him. Like you had never left. Only now it’s more detailed than hurried and rushed as it was weeks before. He remembers how silky your skin looked, how your breast shaped your frame, your nipples hard and perky from the cold air. How your body held this natural glow, and right now it’s beaming from the moonlight casting through his window.

He can see your arousal coat the insides of your thighs, and fuck he’s a goner. He wants to lean forward are spread your wet folds and delve his mouth and tongue into your sweet cunt. He wants to devour you and make you come all over his face, to use him as you ride out your orgasm.

But you do the exact opposite. Instead of settling yourself back onto his clothed thighs you drop yourself onto your knees, reaching both hands out and dragging them up and down his legs, caressing the muscles as you watch his thighs twitch.

You call out his name. “Joel?”

And he stutters back. “Y-yeah?”

Your one hand travels up and cups his thickness making his hips buckle. Fuck he looks big, and he feels big, the rough outline of his cock being shaped by the tight material that hugs him. You lick your lips as your mouth becomes hungry, yearning in need to be filled, “can I suck your cock?”

His head slacks onto the back of the sofa, his cock pulsing and reacting so well to your words, and how they glided so easily off your once so innocent tongue. He looks at you with hooded eyes, “fuck baby…”, he’s pushing his cock up into your hand, giving you the go ahead, “yes please.”

You squeeze his girth, watching his face screw up at your tiny hold on him, “you’re being so polite, aren’t you Joel. Y’doing s’good for me.”

His thighs constrict when you trail your other hand across them, fingers finding their way up his clad jeans and skimming the material.

The suspense is too much, his mind running the image of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock. He needs it badly, the thought enveloping him to the point where he’s becoming quick with his movements, frenzied hands pulling his belt though the belt loops.

But his motions are put on a standstill when you stop him dead in his tracks.

“Let me Joel. I’m the one who’s looking after you, remember.”

He nods his head, eyes following you whilst you undo the rest of his belt and pull down his zipper. His one hand returns to it’s rightful place on the arm rest and the other is on his thigh, compressing the muscle and clinging on like his own life depends on it.

There’s no way he’s hiding it, and even if he tried there’s no contradicting it. Once his zippers undone all the way, he’s lifting his hips eagerly to help you pull off the denim and relieve that pressure building in his lower stomach.

His erection is resting heavy in his boxers and it makes you mouth water, parts of the material deeper in colour from the pre-come that’s coming out of his tip, painting them in his arousal.

The size of him through his boxers has you gasping. You thought he was big in his jeans, but nothing compares to seeing him right now. “Fuck Joel you’re so hard already. Lift your hips up again for me. Let me see you.”

He’s so willing to comply, raising his lower body and watching as you pull the waistband of his boxers over his cock and down his legs.

His tips red—looking angry and hard as his cock hits his stomach with a smack, his pre-come pooling onto the hairs just under his bellybutton.

You wrap your dainty hand around him, a hiss pulling from Joel’s teeth when you inspect his thickness.

“I knew it,” you confess to yourself, “knew you’d be big Joel.” You tilt your head down and kiss his slit, moaning at the taste, “n’you’re so fucking pretty.”

You get straight to it, lowering your mouth and swirling your wet tongue around the head of him, collecting his release so he covers all of your tastebuds.

A flavoured hum leaves your lips and pulsates and laps around him, finally savouring those thoughts that clouded your mind all day and night. Now never having to wonder how Joel would taste; how he’d feel inside your mouth, what he��d look like above you while you urged him closer to his orgasm.

You look up at him through your lashes, landing continuous licks to his slit, “this okay Joel?” you murmur, like he isn’t already putty in your hands.

“Christ,” he grits, his cock reacting to every single swipe of your tongue, “d-darlin’—.”

“Go on Joel,” you utter, “tell me how badly you want me to suck your cock.”

Fuck you’ll be the death of him, his chest filling with oxygen and voice frail, “yes darlin’ jus’… fuck. Want you to suck my cock please—please I need it.”

You giggle at his eagerness, the sound vibrating all over his cock and causing his hips to buckle up, edging his length deeper into your mouth.

You pull off him just ever so slightly, tutting your lips together, “now stay real still Joel. Don’t move or I’ll stop. Can you do that for me?”

He’s quick to nod his head in full understanding, cock becoming inpatient and weighty and full in your hand.

This was even better than you’d imagine. This little game you has started with Joel. And noticing how much he was liking it had your cunt dripping for him. Joel’s withering above you when you put your lips back on him, his stare lingering on where you’re both connected. He gasps when your mouth swallows all of his tip, mouth back to swirling your tongue around him like he is your favourite flavoured lolly pop.

There’s no going back from this now, and why would he want to after you’ve just given him a taste of letting go. Why the fuck did Joel stop himself from delving into something he’s been without for so long? How had he forgotten what it was like to be given pleasure and praised for it?

And with your perfect mouth wrapped around him, it’s just the reminder he needed.

You slip more of him inside your mouth, each drop of your head reaching down further until he hits the back of your throat. Your gag reflex contracts around his girth causing Joel’s stomach to tighten, using all his will power to stop himself from thrusting up and into your mouth.

Because he remembers your words. Stay real still Joel. Don’t move or I’ll stop.

You alter between bobbing your head and circling your tongue around his swollen tip, the mixture of your saliva and his own pre-come coats his cock and makes him glide so smoothly in and around your mouth, the sounds of your slurping and sucking filling the room.

Joel chokes on his words, “f-fuck sweetheart, your mouth…shit it feels so f-fucking good. C-can I move my hands? Please—jus’ wanna feel ya.”

He’s being so patient, keeping his hands down onto the sofa, and so much that his strength could split the seams of the material. But behind his compliance, there’s a hunger so deep, so guttural. You can feel it in the way his hips weight themselves down, his thighs clinging together.

You lift your mouth, his tip leaving your warmth with a light pop. Your cheeks are flushed red and eyes watering from his cock abusing the back of your throat. You use your hand to slowly pump him, keeping him in a state of pleasure, “y’doing so well Joel, and being so good f’me. Go on, I’ll let you touch me, touch me wherever you like.”

You edge him on, bringing your mouth back down and swallowing all of him once again. Joel pulls his upper body forward, soothing his hands on the dent of your spine and anywhere he can reach without disrupting you and your movements on him.

Joel tries to put all of his focus into his breathing, to give it full attention and try his best to not come so quickly. “Christ darlin’,” Joel mutters, “you’re so perfect. Y’feel so fuckin’ soft.”

Your moan onto his cock, showing him that his touch on your skin is affecting you as much as it is for him. His grip remains on your back and his other hand moves under you and grabs your breasts, pinching your taunt nipple in between his fingers.

And fuck his fingers feel good, continuing to bob your head on his cock and dragging your one hand from his thigh down to cup his balls, gently squeezing them in your palms.

Joel’s eyes widen in surprise at the new sensation, “holy s-shit.”

Joel’s rambling. And he’s not even self-conscious by it. Exposing all confessions and desires to you so voluntarily.

“I touched myself after I saw you,” he acknowledges, “fuck I tried not too but I couldn’t stop myself. I p-pictured you like this. On your knees and taking me like this. Shit you made me come so quick.”

You clench your legs together. Fuck he’s got a dirty mouth when he puts his mind to it. Your eyes are glossy whilst you look up at his wrecked face; his foreheads covered in a sheen of sweat and eyebrows are knitted together to hold off the orgasm that’s about to course through his entire body.

You move your mouth up to his slit, keeping your attention there where you know he’s the most sensitive. You kitten lick his tip, smiling devilishly at his fucked out form, “is that right Joel. Did seeing me like that make you horny? Did seeing me so open like you did make your cock hard?” You tease him and he nods at you.

“You’re a naughty boy. Aren’t you Joel.”

Joel sighs pathetically, his length throbbing in your hand at the way you provoke him, how you push him even further into divulging into his secrets that he once thought he wouldn’t manifest.

You press wet kisses along his base, pecking his cock in endearment and your stare never leaving his face. Your lick a long strip up the side of him and hollow out your cheeks when his tip fills your mouth again.

He’s close. You can see it in his face. The rushed whimpers gliding so evenly off his lips, the shallow rise and fall of his chest. And he knows that you know it too, how pitifully fast you’ve got him to that peak.

“You gonna come Joel?” You ask him enticingly, “you gonna come in my mouth? Like you imagined when you fucked your hand thinking it was me.”

Fuck he wants to. He wants to feel your tongue lick every last drop of him as you swallow his come down your throat, opening your mouth to show him how much you enjoyed it.

He grunts your name, followed by a weakened yes. Yes I’m gonna come. You’ve gotta stop. Baby please stop. Wanna be inside you. Need to feel you.

You chuckle gleefully, and you will stop. But he doesn’t need to know that right now. It’s so fun seeing him struggle. So you continue to lick him and roll his balls in your hand, spurring him on and pulling him just a smidge closer to his high.

He attempts to pull himself away from your mouth, but every time he does you move back onto him. His thighs begin to shake, chest sucking humid air into his lungs to calm his heart rate but also the pulsing in his cock, “fuck darlin’,” he warns you, “oh my—fuck I don’t—y’gonna make me come. S-shit stop.”

And this time you do. Not wanting this to be over before you’ve even started. You eventually pull your mouth off of him, watching how his cock drops onto his lower stomach with a wet slap, glistening and covered in your spit.

You can see how’s Joel’s trying to hold it back, wrapping his own hand around his head to stop the throbbing still being felt across his cock. His tummy clenches and then releases, becoming soft as he fully takes back charge of his breathing.

You wipe the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand, leaning your lips down to press kisses across Joel’s belly, loving how plush he feels against your lips.

“How was that Joel?” You question, “you still okay?”

You’re such a tease, mouth shifting up Joel’s stomach and onto his chest, his arms pulling you up as you go. “M’fine darlin’,” he huffs, hooking his fingers around the back of your neck, “jus’ come ere’. Come sit on my lap.”

Before you do, you help him remove his boots, and then his boxers and jeans that still rested by his ankles while Joel unbuttons his flannel and throws it on the floor with the rest of his clothes. The image of his bare muscular chest has your breath hitching and your pussy pulsing. You rest your weight on his shoulders and put yourself onto his thighs, where this affair had began just moments before.

But only this time, you’re fucking naked and your bare pussy is making a mess on his cock.

“I love these hands…”, you bring one up and play around with it, inspecting them and pushing your thumbs down into his palms to massage the longed strains in them, “they’ve worked so hard,” you caress them, “you’ve work so hard Joel. For too long.”

You rest your own hands on top of his, caging them so they grip the skin on your thighs, “touch me again Joel,” you plea, “I ain’t gonna bite.”

You can feel that his hands have no intention of moving, his hold just squeezing the flesh of your legs, with his eyes showing you his need for your guidance, “or do you need some help.”

He gives you that well known signal. So you begin to move his hands for him, bringing them up and onto your hips and then onto the flesh of your waist. You can feel his pulse quicken again as you show him where you want him. You keep him there for a moment…watching the desperation fall from his lips. You smile at his reaction, loving how even having sucked his cock, and almost having him come down your throat, he’s still so hesitant in the way his hands follow your skin.

You guide his touch up to your breasts, feeling his palms kneading the sensitive skin. He massages your chest so tenderly, each rub of his thumb over your nipples pulling more wetness from your core.

You moan out his name, “fuck Joel,” the words giving him the permission to carry on, “that feels s’good.”

And god you feel so good. “You’re so soft darlin’,” he mutters, “y’feel better than I imagined.”

“You’re so sweet Joel,” you say, cherishing his words, “how many times have you thought about this?”

Fuck he’s thought about this everyday since he’s been given the chance to know you. He tried so hard to avoid the temptation that began pestering his mind when you were together. And even when you weren’t, you still drifted into his thoughts.

“Too many times baby,” he admits, “wanted you like this for so long.”

Joel’s so indulged on your breast. Having finally felt the way they fit so well in the cup of his hands. He kneads them. He pinches them. But his gaze instantly drops when you avert his other hand locked in place on your chest down lower and in between your thighs.

His cock jumps on his stomach, impulsively reacting to where he knows precisely where you want his hand. And mostly his fingers.

He doesn’t have time to behave, already using two of his fingers and gliding them through your folds and that alone has your head rolling back, your pussy clenching hard against the calloused skin of his digits.

He saw how drenched you were, but he becomes bewildered when he gets a feel of your soaked cunt. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart. Christ you’re s’wet.”

And it’s all because of him; his words, his actions, his cock in your mouth, his lack of control. “It’s all for you Joel,” you softly speak, “you’ve done this. Sucking your cock has made me this wet for you. Want to feel you inside me.”

His fingers are uncertain. They’re Nervous. Each slide of them learning everything about you and changing their motions to see what has you twitching in his lap.

You become restless, the tip of his digits teasing your hole and the hood of your clit, “Joel please,” you babble, “put your fingers inside of me.” So he does. He inserts one finger into your deprived cunt, and fuck you feel warm and soft, his digits being engulfed by the heat and the pressure of your inner walls.

He doesn’t waste any more time in adding a second finger. Slowly pumping and curling them inside to reach that spongy spot that has your grasp strengthening on his shoulders, your features creasing inwards at the slight stretch of him.

You can feel how your walls are trying to accommodate his fingers, your pussy tight and restricted as your try and get used to having him there. “Knew I’d struggle to take you,” you say quietly, breathing out in rhythm to help you adjust, “yes Joel keep going. Yes that’s—fuck that’s it. I want to be ready to take you.”

Christ you were everything. Feeling your stuffed up pussy pour more of your wetness down his knuckle and hand, while Joel uses his thumb to play with your puffy clit, rubbing it in tender figure eights.

“Here’s what it want Joel,” you muster up to say, your body trying to take pleasure over the instructions you’d firmly set in place for him. “Want you to make me come on your fingers first,” you wrap your fingers around him again, giving his cock a slow tug, “and then you can have this pussy on your cock.”

It’s all becoming too much; how fucking filthy your mouth is. How the words flow out so fluently. It overwhelms him, and he’d be an idiot if he’d disobey.

You question him, raising your eyebrows, “you got it Joel?”

His fingers falter to a stop, knowing how vocal you like him to be, and what you’ll do if he isn’t. You need to make sure that he heard you, you need him to say that he fully understands you.

He gulps, his voice weak, “yes sweetheart.”

You sooth the patchy stubble on his jaw, kissing his lips and hovering your mouth over his, “now show me how y’gonna make me come,” you challenge, “fuck me with your fingers Joel.”

That sparks him into action, fingers back into the metrical pace that had your walls fluttering against him, mouth open with needy moans falling from them.

“Oh my god Joel,” you sob, “yes—fuck right there. Keep going.” He connects his lips with yours, again licking and forcing his way into your mouth as you oblige his invitation. He can taste himself as he still lingers faintly on your tongue, but he’s too far gone now to give a shit about that.

His fingers are relentless, hitting your g-spot each time with the tip of his digits, his other hand following suit to play with your messy and swollen clit, a whimper erupting from your throat and flowing into his mouth.

It hadn’t taken Joel much to find those hidden spots to have that knot tightening in your stomach. To have that pressure rising up and overheating. And fuck it had been a long time since Joel had used his hands to pleasure a woman, and he thanks the lord that he hadn’t lost his touch.

Your lips break apart for air, your mouth wet and abused from Joel’s ravenous tongue, with your chest rising and body shaking. “Oh my—,” you choke on your words, “fuck Joel. I’m so close. Y’gonna make me come—don’t stop.”

As if he’d ever stop, how could he ever stop.

His fingers keep up their pace, curling into your velvety walls and flicking your clit with his other hand. His weights ready for your body to tremble and contract as he gives you what you wanted, what he’d always wanted to give you.

“Yes baby please,” he begs you, “give it to me. Show me how pretty you are when you come.”

That’s the last thing you need for the string to snap, that coil in your lower stomach to burst, body falling forward and pussy gushing and throbbing on his fingers, your orgasm pulsing though you and Joel’s one arm already outstretched, ready to catch you.

You cry out his name, Joel Joel Joel, your body now using him for your own pleasure as your hips move on their own terms to prolong that feeling of ecstasy that’s Joel’s flared up inside of you.

“Yesss darlin’ that’s it. Fuck I can feel your pussy hugging my fingers so tightly,” and he can imagine what it’s like when he feels it on his cock. He kisses your collarbone and neck when your head falls back, sucking the skin red and leaving a trace of what’s he’s just given to you, marking you, eyes closing shut with that added gratification of his claim.

He lets you ride it out for as long as he can make it, because you deserve it with how he’s treated you. He slowly pulls out his fingers when his doesn’t feel your walls contracting around him, his two digits shining with your release.

Your body slumps forward and onto his chest, and he’d somehow forgotten how much he missed having you this close. His skins hot, making you limbs shudder. “Oh my god…,” you manage to say, arms wrapping around his neck, “fuck Joel you’re good at that. You’re s’good.”

Your words make him laugh, and god you’ve missed that sound, remember how stern he used to be with you, how it had taken you months to get him to even smile at you. You watch as he grins up at the ceiling, pinching the flesh of your hips.

You lift yourself and shift Joel’s body down lower on the sofa, purchasing his cock so he rests in your folds. You move your hips so his tip nudges at your clit, your pussy lubricating him with your release. Joel grunts at the sensation, with just the rubbing of your cunt on his cock has him rocking his hips under you, drawing him closer to where he needs you.

You shudder above him, and all Joel can do is watch you intensely. Waiting for that exact moment where your pussy engulfs his tip and your thighs start falling. But in his impatient state, it doesn’t come, you just continue to stroke yourself on him. And it’s the sound of your voice that pulls him back to you.

“Is this what you want Joel?” Like you don’t already know. “You want this pussy to ride your cock?”

He ventures out and pulls you flush down onto his hips, but you refuse and hold yourself frozen in place, ushering your hand up and cupping his jaw in a firm grasp, constraining his face to look at you.

“You’re so impatient Joel,” your features teasing him just that little bit more. “Now. I want you to tell me. Tell me exactly what you want.”

He whines deep from the back of his throat, “fuck sweetheart—” His breathings nonexistent, completely knocked out and winded, firm hands biting down hard on your waist, “I need you. Wanna feel you wrapped around me. Wanna make you come on my cock. Fuck I need it—please.”

You lower your pussy until his head is fully shielded inside you, lusting over that new stretch of his cock spreading you out. You take control of your movements, wanting Joel to feel all of you at a restrained pace, to take all of you in.

Joel strives to gain back some of the strength you’ve swept out of him, and fuck you did it so easily, plunging your hips down so your cunt takes more of him, and his thighs pushing upwards to meet you halfway.

Joel’s wrecked under you the moment his cock feels the comfort of your cunt. His face falling into your hot chest, and in an instant, you’re welcoming him as you knot your hands into the back of his curls.

He feels fucking incredible; he’s so hard and thick and even with his fingers before, the pull his cock gives you is such a painful pleasure. It makes your pussy burn, fluttering from that hot sting as his cock reaches heaven and smooths that spot inside you that has you seeing white stars behind your eyelids.

The back of your legs make contact with his thighs, and you’re pining at the fullness, “fuck Joel—oh my god.”

Joel musters up a chant of fuck fuck fuck with every inch of his thickness filling you to the brim. He grits his teeth down hard, pulling in his lip and almost drawing blood, needing to stop himself from becoming too into you too fast as his body flavours your tightened walls around his cock.

You can feel his breath heat the skin on your chest, his tone muffled by his lips kissing the flesh of your breast, “fuck baby—shit you feel…“

You keep your pussy flushed on his lengh, pulling his hair through your fingers making him wince from the tug. He lifts his marks from your chest and brings your mouth down to melt into his, only then to take his touch off of yours and pierce into your eyes.

He wants to tell you that he feels on cloud nine. He wants to say how beautiful he thinks you are, how he’d never be able to go a minute without having you like this, and not only intimately but just to have you so close to him, to have you so near. How you’ve made him question all his past decisions.

So he tells you the honest truth, “…perfect. Christ sweetheart you feel perfect. Like y’made for me.”

You become embarrassed by his words, and rewarding him with a swirl of your hips, testing your body to see if your cunt has yet adjusted to his thickness. His fingers felt incredible but it doesn’t compare to having his cock buried inside you. You can feel how your walls pull him in so well, your slick and a mixture of his own arousal making his cock glide so simply in and out of you.

You pull your hips up with shaky legs, so only half of his cock’s shielded inside you and drop back down slowly, repeating the action until you have to bear yourself, feeble hands being placed on his knees, arching your back as your head faces the ceiling.

He has you everywhere; hands gripping your hips and waist, his contact moving up your ribs to the curve of your breast and neck, touching as much of you as he can.

Your pussy throbs and latches down hard on his cock, Joel’s mind unable to focus on nothing but the squeeze. “Shit baby,” he curses quietly, “y’so fucking tight.”

You look back at him, voice mellow and movements evenly paced, “yeah? Does this pussy feel good? It’s all yours Joel,” you promise him, “fuck it’s all for you.”

Your assurance go straight through his body and down his length, which starts to throb inside you at how true your words are, your confidence emitting straight onto him. He looks at every inch of you, taking his time to fully appreciate what’s in front of him, to admire what’s on top of him; the way your chest lifts and falls with every ragged breath, breast sensitive to his fingers and mouth, the way your whimpers fill the room, your body covered in sweat that makes your skin glisten.

And that’s when he notices a change in your attitude, dropping your guard just a smidge as you continue to move your hips but now at a hurried pace. Your hands are suddenly needy and attentive, your words now imploring, “fuck Joel. I need you—,” you beg him.

“What baby,” he says, his tone low, “tell me. Shit—tell me what you want.”

You need him deeper, you need him harder, fucking all of himself into you until you can’t walk the next day, until the second orgasm he brings out of you has your head dizzy with just the thoughts of him.

“I need…,” you mumble, “Joel I need it harder. Please fuck me. I want it hard.”

Yes he can do that. So he stops your movements, ready to give you what you need. “Okay darlin’. Fuck— yeah okay.”

His stare is firm and direct, and all you can summon is a weakened nod and a pull at his shoulders, beckoning him to swap positions.

You cage your arms around his neck to keep a firm hold of him, whilst Joel puts his one hand down onto the sofa and the other on your back, carefully lifting his weight off his hips and crashing the both of your body’s onto the sofa, his cock remaining nestled in you warm walls.

He sets his one foot onto the floor and the others bent by your side, giving himself that extra leverage and strength while he holds himself up by his palms, his mass adding pressure onto the cushion below.

He soothes, coasting his touch over and pinching all of you, his hands sending bolts of electricity down to your core, your legs wrapping around his lower back to keep him condensed and up close.

Every thrust of his hips has your back lifting off the sofa, his cock continuously hitting that spot inside you, his tip nudging that knot cramping in your stomach and pulling a gasp from your throat.

He looks down and regrets it the moment his eyes stare at where you’re connected. His chokes on his breath and his thrust stall, not trusting another pull of his hips in your cunt knowing too well he could come quickly and shamefully. His pays attention to how his cocks covered in your wetness, saturating his skin and the hair on his pubic region.

You force his head up from where his eyes are frozen, moving his attention to you, “look at me Joel…,” you beckon, “look at me when you fuck me.”

And he listens. Even though he’s the one on top of you, he’s listening to you. He watches you with a desired expression as he observes the pure ecstasy flourishing through your features.

He knows you’re about to come, he can feel it wrapped all around his cock. It’s that same feeling of your cunt fluttering on his fingers just moments ago, when he watched that pleasure take over your body, and when he let you ride it out in slow and steady waves. But only this time, it’s so much more intense. And this time, it lunges his own orgasm forward.

Fuck he needs you to come. Like, right now.

Somehow, it’s like you’ve read his mind, finally jumbling out your words, “f-uck Joel. I’m close. Fuck I’m so so close.”

He’s barely holding on, arms juddering and stomach clenching to keep himself from spilling his release inside of you, needing you to finish before him.

“Give it to me darlin’,” Joel pleads, “that’s it—let me feel ya. Let me feel you come around me.”

His words are what you need to break, you begin to to pulse and convulse around his hard length, arms dragging him down as you breast compress into his sticky chest, weak arms holding onto his shoulder blades.

The feeling of your pussy coming around him has his hips faltering. Joel has no fucking idea how he’s lasted this long, his own legs shaking and his eyebrows furrowing in concentration, “fuck darlin’ I’m gonna—” his forehead connects with yours, “fuck y’gonna make me come.”

Once your high has substantially subsided, and his thrusts have you riding out every flood of pleasure thats washed over you, your mind can take into his words as you place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Please Joel,” landing another kiss onto the side of his mouth, “come Joel—fuck I want it inside. Want you to fill me up.”

Surely he’s not hearing correctly, his ears ringing and heavy heartbeat blocking all noise around him.

His movements become delayed, his voice cracking, “y’sure darlin’?” Fuck let that be what you said, because he’d do anything to come inside you right now. To stay nestled in your cunt for as long as he possibly can. “Is that what you want?”

Your eyes are glazed over, tears threatening to spill down the sides of your face, “yes Joel,” you cry out, “please come in me. Wanna feel it.”

“Christ,” he huffs, his breath hot and heating the already reddish flush on your cheeks, “okay—fuck okay I’ll come inside you baby.”

You intentionally clench your walls around him, digging your heels into his lower back to keep him deep and as close to you as possible. You keep that up until Joel warns you, mumbling your name before a oh shit I’m coming, fuck I’m coming. And with a few more thrusts of his hips they slow down, his high taking possession of his body, his seed filling you up.

“That’s its Joel. Fill me up.” Your words prolonging his orgasm, feeling his warm come coat your walls and his cock twitching with each spurt of his release.

His thrusts come to a hilt, finishing off with one final quick and deep thrust before all of his body weight lands on top of you, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

You feel so full of him. The way his body is hefty on top of yours, his mind oblivious to his own weight as he squashes you deep into the sofa. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. Once he has dominance of his own body again and gathers enough energy to, he pulls his softening cock out of your hole with a groan, his release dripping out of you.

He wraps his arms around you, changing the position so you’re now back on top, your head now lying on his chest and your legs becoming tangled together.

You both lie there in silence, the sound of Joel’s heart and his overall warmth across your skin has your eyes feeling heavy. You dig your chin into his peck, giving him a gentle smile, “y’feeling okay Joel?”

“I’m okay darlin’, he soothes, running his hand through your hair, “I’m more than okay.”

He kisses your lips, eyes looking back down at you, his voice coming out small. “Listen darlin’, I never meant to ignore you. It’s just…I haven’t felt this way in a long fuckin’ time and I know there’s nothing I can say to—“

“Joel stop—,” you place your finger on his lips, shushing him before he can say anything further.

“We don’t need to talk about that now,” you say, “that’s all in the past. And all I want you to know is that I understand, and it’s okay. We’re okay.”

He nods at you, grabbing ahold of the blanket that rested on the top of the couch, pulling it over your body to keep the warmth in.

You always know just what to say, your words having his eyes easily falling shut with you all over his mind. He’s spent the last fortnight feeling shitty and regretful, struggling to get any sleep as he thinks about how much he’s hurt you. But right now with you resting on top of him, and with soft snores leaving your lips, he knows he’ll never have to worry about you again.

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