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pearljen-blog · 1 month ago

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Omg what a beautiful and horny story. Amazing work ❤️

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 1/27 (2.8k words)

Chapter 2 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, light choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst

A/N: If you wanted Dom Kino on top of dirty talk Kino, boy do I have some good news for you 😌 Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Drink You Sober" by Bitter:Sweet

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 - Oh dear, look what you've done, you've made a mess of me

Having women in the prison on Narkina 5 is rare, but not unheard of. They don't really like taking a woman transfer because the prison was built and designed to hold men in close quarters. A woman's presence muddies the waters. Occasionally it's disruptive. And the guards really don't like disruptive, either. God forbid. Unfortunately they have no say in the Empire's decision of who goes where. So there you are, eating, sleeping, and working right alongside the men of Unit Five-Two-D.

There are a lot of things about Narkina 5 that suck, which is a colossal understatement, but your table usually isn't one of them. As far as tables go, especially compared to the rest of the shift's population, table 7 is pretty okay. You lucked out there, which may have been where ALL of your luck had gone instead because the rest of Narkina 5 fucking sucks.

Threl was the first man in your pod to acknowledge you after Kino had given you his whole ego spiel, pointed you in the right direction, and then curtly dismissed you. Threl is a tall, handsome man in his forties with dark brown skin, wide shoulders, a shaved head, a goatee that probably would have been neatly kept in different circumstances, and a rich bass voice. There is an easy confidence to him that had put you at ease when he first shook your hand. He introduced himself, the rest of the group, showed you where you would be standing, and made sure to explain things out loud while he worked. The others seemed happy to let him do all the talking—something that hasn't changed in your time there, and you can see why. He's easy to like. Anytime the table needs something, you all send Threl to talk to Kino. Kino seems to respect him and never looks as irritated talking to him as he does most people in there. Threl and Kino even talk outside of the shift. Not that you've tried to eavesdrop or anything.

On your left is Alis, who you assume is around the same age as you, but shorter than you by several inches. He may even be the shortest person on the whole shift. He has warm copper skin, dark cropped hair, and a wicked scar down the length of his cheek from his temple to his jaw. He never seems to be self conscious about it, thankfully. You think it looks pretty bad ass. Alis is also hilarious. Sometimes he cracks a joke to lighten the mood while you work. You thought it might get obnoxious eventually, but he always knows when to stop and be serious. There have been a few times your whole table has to stifle a laugh as you carry your finished part to the rack. He's the kind of guy you would be friends with on the outside. Alis is also fast. He can move around the table and through a crowd like it's nothing, and you have to scramble to keep up with him.

Next to him is Sorrek. He's the opposite of Alis: taller, older, tawny skinned, with blonde hair that is thinning with a bald spot in the back, and he has a thick build, as though he used to be very athletic when he was younger. He's also a quiet, reserved man. To the point he usually looks sad, but he never lets it slow him down. You like Sorrek, despite this. There's a gentleness to him. It takes a lot to make him angry. And though it's also difficult to make him laugh, it's not impossible. He gives off dad energy. He hasn't said so, but you're pretty sure he has kids. Once you jokingly said, "okay, dad" when he was fretting, and he looked like he was about to cry.

Your table's swing is Jevid. He's the oldest of the group and can't handle the heavier loads like everyone else can because he has a bad back. He's got freckled and sun-spotted ruddy cheeks that stand out against his beige skin, a large round belly, no hair on his head, but a thick, uneven, dark grey beard, and he's missing a top tooth on his left side. He's also ornery, but never mean. Just a grumpy old man. Threl is on the other side of him, and you think the two of them have been in there together for a while. They get along like old friends and Threl is always checking in on him to make sure he's not in too much pain.

Next is Taybus. Fucking Taybus, who fills you with equal parts irritation and affection, like a dumb little brother. He's more than a decade younger than you—you'd be surprised if he's even twenty yet. Before you, he was the newest person at the table, though he's been there for almost a year and a half now. He's tall and lanky with chin length brown hair that's always in his face, has the saddest attempt at growing a mustache you've ever seen, and his fair skin is dotted with tiny moles. Taybus is also a little shit on purpose. His main hobby is picking on people. It's not malicious or aggressive, he just likes bickering. Because he's an asshole. And a kid.

Finally, there's Edii, who you haven't quite figured out yet, even though he's next to you at the table. You've tried to talk to him a few times, but he's...well, he's quiet to the point of ignoring everyone else most of the time, except when he gets irritated. His basic is heavily accented already, but when he's mad, he slips into his native tongue so no one can understand what he's saying. You think he prefers it that way. He's almost sickly pale with short black hair, a thin nose and lips, and dark eyes. You can count on one hand the amount of times you've seen him smile, usually thanks to Alis and once because of you. He's the second youngest of the group, so before you came along, he got the brunt of Taybus's focused antagonism and he didn't handle it as well as you do. Threl had almost seemed relieved the first time Taybus teased you and you dug into him right back.

You all work well together. Your numbers aren't good enough to be in first place, but you do okay for yourselves. They don't treat you any differently because you're a woman, either. Well, Sorrek might worry and check up on you more than he does the others, and Jevid often apologizes if he makes a comment he thinks is inappropriate to say "in front of a lady," even though you tell him you've heard and said far worse. And you're not a lady, you're a woman. Other than that, though.

Then there's Kino Loy.

You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you.

Not "Kino Loy finds you annoying" or "hates that you're his problem." Hates you. Specifically. You've only been there a month and he's already gotten pissed at you four times. That's a once a week average…except that all of them were in the past week and a half.

Now, you won't deny you probably deserved most of it. You just wish he wasn't such an asshole about it all the time.

-----

The first incident was for talking back. He was ragging on your table about picking up the pace and shouting out the tallies, like that would magically make you all less exhausted. You were tired and in pain, which made you irritable. So you may have told him that if he didn't like it, he could squeeze in between Alis and Sorrek on the other side of the table and help. Your entire pod, and some of the men that overheard in the pods next to yours, stared at you in horror. Even Edii.

Kino's eyes met yours, however, and he looked terrifyingly calm. And you knew immediately that you fucked up. He had you backed up against the table in seconds, the edge digging into your hip, and he got as close to you as he could without touching you.

"Never talk back to me again, do you understand?" His voice was low and there was a dangerous edge to it. You could feel his breath on your face and see every line on his. You noticed he had a tiny freckle on his left cheek, just above the line of his graying beard, and there were flecks of silver in the blue of his irises, like looking at frost through tinted glass.

"Sorry, Kino. I'm just tired, it won't happen again," you muttered, sounding properly chastised. And you were. Tired and sorry. Because you hadn't meant to say it, but sometimes your mouth got you in trouble.

"You're damn right it won't."

After he had stalked off, Threl gave you a disappointed look and Sorrek gave you a sad one. You just shook your head and said, "yeah yeah, I know."

-----

The second time was for smacking Taybus, who deserved it for being a little shit. He likes riling Edii up by moving his tools or telling him he's doing something wrong until the quiet man snaps and goes off on a tirade back at Taybus. Which meant that day, Edii was more focused on ranting than working. It slowed everyone down, and it was also annoying. Threl had told Taybus to knock it off, which usually put an end to it, but he wasn't shutting up. So you smacked him. But it wasn't just that you smacked him. It was that you left your spot, walked around Edii, and smacked him. Hard.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Kino's voice boomed from halfway across the room. The floor went quiet immediately, some men even stopped working, and they all turned to look at you. Then Kino was scowling and stalking towards you.

Like a deer in headlights, you responded, "I was telling Taybus to shut the hell up because he's distracting the table." There was a sputter of protest behind you, and you thought Taybus should be grateful Kino was almost there or you would have smacked him again. Kino looked even more pissed after that, his face contorted in controlled rage, and you braced yourself. You felt like a child getting scolded in a classroom, and you hated it. It made you feel small.

"I told you on your first day here that if you have a problem with someone, you come to me. What part of that did you have trouble understanding?" He was once again leaning in so close you could feel him in front of you, like a swell of heat and pressure.

"None of it." Your face and neck flushed with anger and embarrassment.

"Sure as hell didn't look that way."

You shifted awkwardly on your feet and looked down at the floor. You wanted to defend yourself, say that you were just trying to get the work done, but you knew it would only make things worse.

"Next time, you have problems at your table? Don't do my job for me. Got it?" Kino also gave Taybus, who finally had the decency to look apologetic, a pointed look.

You nodded.

"Sorry, Kino," Threl spoke up.

Kino turned to him, but with less anger, and said, "Just keep your table in line."

Threl and Sorrek both gave off more disappointed dad energy, Alis tried to crack a joke to lighten the tension, but quickly gave up, Taybus sulked, Edii went back to being Edii, and Jevid spent the next ten minutes telling you that you shouldn't rile Kino up.

"Never seen that man yell at someone so much." Jevid shook his head.

"Gee, thanks, Jev. Makes me feel really great to know I'm the only woman AND the biggest fuck up."

"You aren't a fuck up," Sorrek softly interjected. You appreciated him. Truly, you did. Even if he was, perhaps, a bad judge of character.

"I'm just sayin', you should keep your head down for a bit and let him cool off."

You let out a huff of exasperation. "That's what I'm trying to do!" And you were. Trying, that is.

-----

The third time was for talking back again.

You muttered under your breath thinking he wouldn't hear you, and boy were you wrong. He actually grabbed you by the front of your uniform that time, and you gasped when he pulled you closer. He didn't say anything, just glared at you with this intense look on his face for a solid twenty seconds while your heart pounded and he remained perfectly in control. It got his point across. Or at least you assume it did because you kept thinking about it the rest of the day. And the day after.

-----

The fourth time wasn't your fault. You were standing in line after your shift and Taybus was whining to Alis about wanting to finally get first place because he was tired of eating warm mush.

"It's pretty good, man. You ever have fried trunkfish and gravy?"

"No," Taybus whined some more.

"Reminds me of that. Real gourmet shit."

"Man! We were getting close when Ondon was still here. Now we're stuck with someone getting us in trouble all the time and messing up our numbers." He said the last part loud enough that you could hear, as if you weren't already listening.

"Oh, come off it. Don't pretend it's me, like Threl doesn't pick up your slack." You rolled your eyes.

"Alis agrees with me. Don't you?" He turned to the shorter man.

Alis held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't drag me into your shit. I just work here."

"Taybus, you have something on your face." You suddenly pretended to look concerned and stared at his nose.

"What? Where?" He rubbed at his mouth and chin a few times. "Did I get it?" You leaned in closer, like you were checking.

"It's right here." You pointed to the spot above your lip. "Oh wait, it's just that smudge you call a mustache. My bad." You could hear Alis choke on a sudden laugh and you gave Taybus a wicked grin.

"Oh, fuck you." Taybus gave you a friendly shove. It wasn't intended to hurt, but it was still hard enough that you stumbled backwards a step. And because you have the worst luck of anyone in there, you bumped straight into Kino. But you didn't know it was Kino, so you turned to apologize and were met with his angry frown.

You gaped at him. Before you could say anything, he grabbed you by the front of your uniform, walked you backwards, and pushed you against the window. The panes are angled inward so you were awkwardly hunched forward, and he was inches away, looking up into your face.

"Well?" He forced the word through gritted teeth.

"Sorry! I…tripped." The lie sounded terrible even to you, but you didn't want to throw your friends under the transport, even if one of them really deserved it at that point.

"Tripped." His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. Then he leaned in closer. His legs met yours, pressing you further against the glass, and he angled his head slightly so your mouths were close to touching. "No more. Got it?" He demanded in a husky whisper, and you could feel his breath against your lips. You tried so hard not to let your gaze fall to his mouth.

You wanted to nod your understanding because you didn't trust your voice, but you were close enough that if you did, you were going to headbutt him or accidentally kiss him. And you were pretty sure that if you did either, he would find a way to throw you out the window. Instead you whispered out, "yes, Kino."

He kept you there for another few seconds, both of you panting into the inch of space between you and you trying not to squirm against him, before he stepped back and released you suddenly. You flailed to catch your footing and not to fall on your face. Then he turned his back to you and walked off without another word. Like that didn't just happen. Like you weren't a flushed wreck behind him. As you shuffled back to the line, trying not to meet anyone's eyes out of sheer mortification, you heard him at the front yelling for everyone to keep it down.

"I thought he was gonna make out with you for a second," Taybus whispered over his shoulder.

"Taybus!" You hissed. "Shut. Up." Though you had to admit, you kind of thought he was going to as well. And you weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed that he didn't.

NEXT CHAPTER->

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pearljen-blog · 1 month ago

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Joel Miller

Naughty headcanons

snifsnouf-art

Despite his gruff, hardened exterior, Joel is actually a very gentle lover. He takes his time, caressing every inch of your body with reverent hands, savoring each gasp and moan. He wants to make you feel cherished and worshipped.

He gives the best massages. Those big, rough hands are surprisingly deft and sensitive. He works out all the knots and kinks until he has you boneless and pliant, then takes advantage of your relaxed state to sneak in some kisses and caresses. Sneaky bastard.

As a giver and an oral enthusiast, Joel could spend hours between your legs, licking and sucking until you're a sobbing, shuddering mess. He loves receiving from you, but your pleasure is more important for him than his own. He's not satisfied until you're completely wrung out and he's drenched in your release. He can spend the whole night giving you lazy and ecstatic orgasms and never expect anything in return. He'd happily go down on you morning, noon, and night.

Joel is a master of edging. He loves to work you up into a frenzy, bringing you right to the brink of climax over and over again until you're begging for release. He knows just how to touch you to make you shake and sob with need.

When he finally does let you cum, he wants to watch you fall apart. He pins your hands above your head and grinds into you slowly, whispering filthy/sweet (depends) praise into your ear as you quiver and clench around him. "That's it, baby. Come for me. Milk me dry."

Although Joel may tire easily in his 50s, once ignited, his vigor and endurance in the bedroom remain impressively robust. Once in the bedroom, this man becomes an insatiable and passionate lover, eager to please.

When it comes to loving sex positions, Joel loves the spooning one; this way he can wrap his big arm around you and pull you closer until you melt together. When it comes to carnal sex positions, it's doggy style for this man, because he just simply loves the way his hips slap against your ass.

Joel is both submissive and dominant based on the mood and setting. The perfect combination of the two. He can come home tired and clingy for you, letting you have your way with him while he can also come home energized and horny, wanting to fuck your brains out.

The old man is fond of morning sex. Sometimes he wakes up before you do and gently lets his arm slip around you to find your heat with his fingers, waking you up in the most sensual way with his lips nibbling at your earlobe.

He loves when you get a little frisky and he can grab you by the throat. Not to choke you, but to show you he's got you. To show you, you're his. Only his. When you do this to him, he's all done for.

When Joel is tipsy or drunk, he gets bold with you. He grabs you and pushes you up against walls and doors while kissing you lewdly. His strong body against yours, pinning you in place. Sometimes he just likes to have intense, sweaty, primal sex—really going at it like animals. All grunts and growls and biting, not stopping until you're both utterly spent.

Joel has the tendency to praise and compliment you excessively when you're doing a good job. He often can't help himself from verbally affirming and appreciating everything you do to please him.

This man happens to be quite enthusiastic about giving your ass a firm smack and groping it as he vigorously thrusts himself into you from behind. His energetic slaps and squeezes of your bare ass cheeks while rutting away in the doggy style make him go all bananas.

Joel gets a thrill from both ends of the spectrum—on one hand, he loves it when you let your enthusiasm show and express your pleasure unabashedly, your voice rising in volume. But on the other hand, he's equally aroused by the need for restraint when he has you in risky, taboo situations, and you must bite your lip and stifle your moans, your body trembling with the effort of remaining silent, always mindful of the threat of being caught in the act.

He finds great pleasure when you grind yourself against his thigh, riding it slowly as he sits with his back buried into the couch, watching your ministration. He often insists that you forgo panties as you do, delighting in the way your slick juices leave a glistening, fragrant trail on his jeans or naked thigh. This never fails to turn him on.

This man's balls are big, heavy, and hairy. He loves when his woman pays attention to his ballsack more than any other sensitive parts of his body. His thighs and ass are hairy too.

Joel cums a lot; long and thick spurts of his pearly white essence. You just know these big, heavy balls are always so full.

Joel moans, grunts and growls when he gets really turned on. He's not the silent type. Especially when he's cumming; that's when he moans like a needy girl.

He gets off on the feeling of your nails digging into his back as he pounds into you mercilessly; your desperate scratching leaving red marks all over his toned physique. He also loves to have his hair pulled on, be it during oral or fucking. The more you grip and pull, the better.

Joel loves you just the way you are—natural, unshaven. He revels in the primal, animal instinct that compels him to touch, to taste, to bury his face in your musky thicket of curls. His soft side adores the way they tickle his nose as he eats your pussy. Yet he also enjoys the occasional smoothness that comes with shaving. There's something undeniably sexy about the thought of you doing so, making yourself bare and vulnerable just for him. Whether you're au naturel or smooth as silk, Joel's desire for you remains constant as long as you feel confident and desired.

Joel is not picky when it comes to boobs. Small, big, round, or pointy? He wants them all. His favorite thing during foreplay is taking his time to knead, kiss your tits, and tongue-play with your nipples.

Aftercare, no matter if the blowjob stays just a blowjob, or leads into sex. Joel takes care of you in any way you need.

This man never wants to let you go, his arms always pulling you closer, like he can't bear even an inch separating your bodies as you sweat together. He's so warm and solid, like a human heating pad.

Joel's body is a roadmap of scars, but not a single mark mars the perfect expanse of his happy trail. It's like that strip of skin was spared by fate only for you.

He also adores it when your gentle fingertips meander playfully through the soft tufts of hair on his chest and his happy trail, slowly tracing nonsensical patterns across the landscape of his skin.

There's a spot on Joel's neck that makes him shiver and gasp when you lick it. You only found it by accident, but now you make sure to kiss him there whenever.

His low, husky voice is even sexier first thing in the morning, still rough with sleep. Especially when he murmurs dirty things in your ear, his morning breath hot against your skin.

He loves feeling your fingers sink into the soft, pillowy flesh of his pudgy tummy as you roll your hips on him, riding him to ecstasy.

Joel is the type of man who lets out an unexpected, humorous sound when you give his ass a playful smack. His reaction is always amusing, revealing his goofy nature. (snifsnouf's hc)

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pearljen-blog · 1 month ago

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Sleeping beauty 😴✨

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pearljen-blog · 2 months ago

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i am a die hard game version joel miller lover

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pearljen-blog · 2 months ago

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Phew! There’s game Joel my dear ❤️

Hello sweet toxic! May I pretty please have an age gap fic or drabble with game version of Jackson Joel ( my favorite long and grey haired man )!

Maybe something where in the beginning Joel comes off as shy and nervous and sweet but once he and reader get together he’s got the nastiest fucking mouth she’s ever heard once he’s confident that she likes him as a love interest

parts

JOEL x f!READER | 1.8k

NOTES: Hi sweet nonnie ❤️ I watched some tlou 2 gameplay for this, so I hope it helped. idk if I met the "love" interest part but she makes her interest known. Joel is quiet, then dom / dirty

WARNINGS: 18+ Age gap (Joel 60s/reader 20s-40s), objectification of reader, slutty descriptions of men as usual. Joel calls her "honey" and one time, "little girl." she's not super naive but eager to please. Turns into beginnings of D/s dynamics, no arrangement, no consummation. Joel holds out, a little grumpy/mean. talk of being owned. degradation, praise, body/pussy inspection. kind of stream of consciousness FIWB.

He stood like a man who no one could bother. Stone cold and solid, with a face that always meant business. His clothes were rugged and worn-in like a cowboy, and the obscenity of his tight jeans left nothing to the imagination, from the back or the front.

The first time you became aware of him, it was from behind, and you did a double take. He ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his shoulder-length mane with his other hands on his hip. He was talking to Tommy, and when you heard his voice, the twang put you at ease. He sounded like a nice guy, nicer than he looked.

Your first time at the mess hall, he was kind enough to show you around. You took that as a go-ahead to follow him around anywhere. You began to watch him around Jackson. Not exactly stalking him, but you didn't have anyone else to latch onto. You learned where he went, and you happened to go there too. You were full of questions about how things worked. He always took it seriously. He was a good teacher and didn’t seem interested in anything but helping you when you wanted help.

He taught you how to ride a horse—he must not have noticed you arrived on one. Your loins buzzed as he demonstrated how to sit. His big hands on the reins and the horn were enough to make you wet, but the bulge of his jeans and the way it shifted as he started off at a slow walk. “Now look close, okay? See how I hold it?” You were looking very close.

He taught you how to shoot. Stood behind you and you never felt more safe than holding a pistol with his arms around yours, his chest against your back.

“Attagirl,” he said when you shot the glass bottle target. “Look at that,” he marveled.

To be fair, you weren’t (just) trying to get him in bed. You had lost your traveling party and you joined another one but you felt like the odd one out. You never felt like you had someone to look out for you, specifically you. You hadn’t felt the affection or encouragement of a big, capable man in a long time. Sexual or not.

But there was no denying you had a crush on him. It felt like a shock that he didn’t have women following him around in droves, until you got to know him and found out he was pretty shy. He didnt't seem to have much interest in anything but practicalities and survival. He was sweet, but never crossed a line.

Even when you started crossing some yourself. He took you on an errand one day, and he was buckling in your seatbelt, and you stopped is hand. You put his hand on your thigh, and watched his face. He kept the same, composed expression, but he couldn’t hide the blush that rose to his cheeks. He left his hand there on your thigh for a moment, then pulled away without acknowledging your move. The time it took him to move his hand made you think he liked it there. It was as though he didn’t want to take it the wrong way, was t sure your intentions. He cleared his throat, finished buckling you in, and ran his hand over his smooth, gray hair again. It was always so well-kept. You had to wonder what it’d look like first thing in the morning,

One night, at the tipsy bison, you came in by yourself in a short dress. He looked you up and down and gave you a curious look, but didn’t acknowledge you. He was talking to Tommy. Tommy craned his neck to get a look, raised his eyebrows, and gave you a nod before grinning at his brother and resuming their conversation. Tommy was hot, too, but he was taken. Otherwise you’d love to see him in nothing but that ponytail. You sat at the other end of the bar and he tried not to look at you, but Tommy gave you a wink.

Another night, you showed up to the mess hall too late for dinner, and he was on his way out. He lived close enough and offered to make you something at his place, no problem. When you came inside, you took off your boots, he took your coat, and when he finished hanging it up, he looked back to see you in a thin, low cut shirt and no bra. His mouth hung open and you gave him a flirtatious smile, as though to say, what?

“Ya’ain’t cold, are ya?” He asked with a pink hue creeping up his neck. He rubbed his beard.

“No, are you?” You asked.

“No,” he muttered, then composed himself and went to the kitchen alone.

When he came to serve dinner, your eyes were on his jeans. The heft of his manhood was always apparent, but there seemed to have been some growth in the time since you’d been at his house. You leaned over the table as you ate your meal, and he tried to keep his eyes off your chest. It was a small, round table, and there wasn’t much of anywhere else to look. He looked at his meal as he ate. You looked at his forearms.

After he finished eating, he dabbed each corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it, dabbed his beard, and cleared his throat. Meanwhile, your foot nudged his ankle. His face darkened. Your foot moved up his pants, and reached the seat of his chair. He didn’t bat your foot away, but he didn’t look at you until your foot slid right up his thigh and gently nudged the hard bulge in his jeans.

His strong chest heaved, and he didn’t make a move, but his face was reddening as he cleaned his hands with the same napkin.

He looked up as he finished wiping his hands. “Think I’m your plaything, little girl?” He harshly smacked the cloth napkin down on the table and his strong hand wrapped around your entire foot in his lap. His eyes darkened with a forward tilt of his head, and his voice took on an edge. “Or you tryin’ to be mine?”

You rubbed your lips together and looked at you fondly. He raised his eyebrow to prod for a response.

“I wanna be yours,” you answered matter-of-factly.

“You dunno what you want, girl.” He pushed your foot away, then adjusted himself. When he stood up to take the dirty dishes, the silhouette in his jeans made you throb. He did the dishes, and when he was finished, he opened a beer.

He walked through the dining area on his way to the living room. “Still here,” he muttered, but didn’t stop to talk. He sat down on the sofa and turned on the radio, not inviting you to join him.

You joined him anyway.

You sat on the sofa, not too close, with your hands folded in your lap.

“You wanna know what it means to be mine?” Joel asked.

“Yes, please,” you answered.

“It means I own you,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’m yours.”

He looked at you skeptically. "I’ain’t agreed to own ya yet,” he clarified. "Ain't just something ya do. Takes work from both'a us."

"of course," you acknowledged.

“Gotta know it��s somethin’ ya really want, and if it is, we’ll agree on some rules, safe words and shit.”

“Okay,” you agreed excitedly.

He scanned you head to toe, then let out an alright fine sigh. “Tonight, ya can leave at any time. Ya’ain’t mine yet, so ya don’t gotta do anything I say, okay?”

You nodded.

“But later on if ya *are* mine, you do what I say, when I say it.”

He was so serious and official about this, it sounded like he was briefing his men for some kind of operation.

“Okay” you agreed.

"so what's it mean to be mine?" He asked.

you shrugged. "You do what you want with me."

He nodded hesitantly.

“It means I take care'a ya, I protect ya, and I own your body, it ain’t yours anymore,” he looked you up and down. “It’s mine,” he stated emphatically. “*if* I decide I want it.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” You asked.

He blew out air through puffed cheeks as if there was a long list.

“Ain’t got patience for brats.”

”I can be good,” you promised.

”Ain’t got patience for tears either. Too distracting out here, still gotta focus on survivin'.'

You tried not to show your worry.

”Ain’t sure ya can handle it,” he admitted

"Ain’t lookin to break in some tight little pussy while she cries and bleeds, either.” he cocked an eyebrow at you, and grabbed the massive protrusion in his jeans. “This ain’t no joke, honey. I don’t wanna hurt ya.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you insisted.

“Yeah? Well ya better fit four fingers 'fore ya 'spect me to try it."

“And I promise I’ll do what you say.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, take your clothes off.." He held up his hands to acknowledge your freedom "OR leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened”

You obediently stripped.

He took sips of his beer as he watched your body emerge from your clothes. “Alright,” he nodded. “Good girl.”

Once you were bare naked, he instructed you to turn around. You did just as he asked.

“God damn,” he whispered. “Now, c’mere.”

With him manspreading on the sofa, he made you stand between his knees and bend over.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

You hesitated.

“Don’t have to,” he reminded you.

You reached back and tried to do it with one hand, one finger on each side of the lips. “Like this?”

”Both hands, darlin’. “

You spread your pussy lips for him with both hands.

”Good girl,” he said. “Wide as ya can. Wanna see your parts if they’re gonna be mine.”

You pulled wider

He let out a low whistle. “Juicy little thing. Sure would like to use it...But I’m thinkin’ it might not fit, honey.”

“Why don’t you try it?” You asked.

You turned around and tried to straddle him. He visibly tensed. You reached for the bulge in his jeans.

He snatched your wrist to stop you. “You don’t get to touch me without askin’,” he admonished you. “Notice I didn’t touch you that whole time?”

Your face heated in shame.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? ‘

“I’ll think about it.”

Your eyes were tearing up.

“Ya did good, honey, it’s okay,” he promised. He picked up your clothes and helped dress you. “Just ain’t the kinda choice ya make on the fly. You gotta think about it too, okay?”

You finished getting dressed and nodded.

“I’ll think about it too,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he answered, rose to his feet, and gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then he got your coat and opened the door. As you began to leave, he stopped you, “Hey,” he lowered his voice. “You got a beautiful body. Anyone’d be lucky to own it.”

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Thank you for reading 🖤🖤

#game joel miller #game joel miller x reader

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pearljen-blog · 7 months ago

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Hey there cowboy 🤠

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pearljen-blog · 7 months ago

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one hand isn’t on the phone to be quite frank

oml he’s so hot i can barely comprehend it

credits to papahetinmybed on tiktok lowk all theyre edits are orgasmic

#james hetfield

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pearljen-blog · 8 months ago

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i need him biblically.

i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism.

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pearljen-blog · 8 months ago

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No thoughts, just joel millers arms.

I'm jealous of every mother fucker that got choked out by those slutty ass arms.. Alexa play That Should Be Me by Justin Bieber😮‍💨

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pearljen-blog · 9 months ago

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@polaroidpascal and i have been screaming about joel being a lover boy for DAYS.

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pearljen-blog · 11 months ago

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This is exactly how I imagine him in my mind 🫠

10:05 PM

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is exhausted, you're there to make him feel better.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post Outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; Somnophilia; Established Relationship; Friends With Benefits, kinda; Free Use; PIV Sex; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Kind of mean and uncaring Joel, but at least he makes you cum; Rough Sex; Somno may or may not have been previously discussed, but she's okay with it happening; He's in kind of in a hopeless and numb state of mind (likely thing for Joel Miller to be)

A/N: idk man whatever i might look into religion after this

Word Count: 1.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

10:05 PM

He’s exhausted.

That sort of tiredness that takes you away from yourself. The sort that takes away rest and peace and the ability to let go. Like you’ve crossed over the edge of the world where sleep is no longer possible, and all you are is sore and dirty and beaten, and you don’t think you’ll ever rest again. It’s just the too hard day, and the too hot sun, and a night that won’t ever end.

And Joel is tired.

He knows if he falls into bed now, he won’t sleep. He’ll stare up at the water stained ceiling, the cracks in the plaster deeper than the cracks in his mind, and he’ll find no rest and no peace and no forget, and all he’ll do is remember.

Pulling his shirt over his head as he goes, he toes one unlaced boot off and then the other, the sweat damp cotton sticking cold and tacky to his back, and it peels off slow, a little disgusting, the grime of his shift all along his skin, in his hair, between his toes and under his fingernails and looking at you, the slow rise and fall of your shoulder as you sleep so peacefully, he knows he shouldn’t touch you, have you, know you.

He doesn’t really care.

The button of his jeans, sticky, warm summer night air against his already hardening cock, and he watches you. You’re wearing a little white tank, worn and frayed and old as a long past life, ratty panties, too hot to pull the sheet over yourself, nothing but a sheen of sweat for cover. You’re beautiful in the way things aren’t beautiful anymore. Beautiful in a way that makes him not want you. But you’re here, and you’re his, and you give him things he doesn’t deserve, yourself, and Joel is a selfish creature now, bad and bristled in the way this new world demands, so he takes.

All the time Joel Miller takes things.

He doesn’t love you because he can’t, because he doesn't have it in him. But there’s peace here, or comfort, or something easy and silent and freely given. Understanding, maybe, which is all anyone can ask for anymore. He shucks his grime covered jeans and crawls over you, and he shouldn’t touch you, never should have, but he does because, again, he’s selfish, he touches you because you let him, because he has nothing else but this to feel good and man about.

Hooking his fingers beneath the edge of your panties he pulls them down, slow and steady, watching the rise and fall of your ribs, steady heart in the steady rhythm of your breath. You’re still asleep, and he’s going to have you because he can, because you’re his without commitment or ask or demand. Because it’s easy.

He pushes a soft thigh up high, opening you to his gaze and pulls your cheeks apart gently, dragging a gentle thumb up the crease of your sex as he goes. You hadn’t waited up for him the way you did most nights, and he’s grateful for this, grateful for the fact that you’d spare him from conversation, questions, wants. All the things he can’t give you and doesn’t even really want to because he doesn’t have any of that in him anymore.

Sometimes, and he’ll admit it because Joel isn’t a liar, honest to a fault, he’ll feel that faint whisper, dream pulse of desire, like a thing he knows exists somewhere in the world just not inside him that beats of togetherness or commitment or love. Something that beats of all the things he knows you want but he can’t give.

His thumb against your little clit, and he circles and circles against the warm, damp dryness. You’re not dreaming of him, no immediate well of slick desire, and through his haze, it makes him a little bothered, a little sad if he still had the ability to be sad. But he circles and circles, and you shift and whimper, and then finally, eventually, there’s that drip of want. Sticky and sweet and only for him because he might not love you, but he does possess you, and you’re only for him.

You turn your face further into the pillow, hips hitching, cunt dripping, a deep sigh and his thumb presses in, tastes the well. You’re warm and hot and tight, and he slicks his thumb in and out of your cunt, fucking you slow and gentle, stretching you a little while you still refuse to wake for him. He wonders what it would be like to love you, to know you dream of him, to dream of you. He shoves your thigh higher, wet enough now, and lines his cock up.

Joel is tired, but he has this, and it’s enough.

Cockhead notched at your entance, and one thing he does still love: the sight of his too wide head against your too small hole, the sound of wounded hurt you make when he shoves inside and makes you all his. And he keeps himself slow and gentle at first, he doesn’t want you awake, that’s not what this is, he only wants you his and for him, until he’s all the way pressed inside, deep enough for you to wake with hurt and you shift and wiggle and your hips arch like you want to escape or want more but it doesn’t really matter anyways because you’re caught and flayed now.

“J– Joel?” Soft as a butterfly while your cunt flutters around him. “What’re you doing, Joel?” And if there wasn’t the moan of his own little whore in the sound of you, he’d think otherwise, but he knows you’re pleased to be woken so. You press and clench and stretch like a cat, spine long and lean and fluid, arms reaching for something he can’t and won’t ever give.

He swings his hips back, fucks in again, your cunt’s good and wet now, and the giving’s good as the take. “Don’t worry, baby. Just gotta come. You don’t gotta do anything.” He pulls back again, your pussy flutters and sucks at him, and you plant your hands against the apocalypse stained wall of this poor and sad room in a place that used to be called Boston and let him use you as he needs. Just gotta come in you, he tells you again.

And you might whisper that it’s okay, it doesn’t really matter if you do or don't’. He doesn’t need to know, he doesn’t need to care. Joel buries his face in your throat and loses himself in the wet of your cunt and the heat of your skin, the scent of your sweat, fingers clutching and twisting at your breast, and there's a sound of hurt or want coming from your throat. He doesn't care much about that either. Just take it, just take it, he says over and over. “Just lay there and take my cock.” The sound of your wet, sloshing cunt is the loudest thing in the whole dead world, and he loses himself in it. He counts his breaths, counts his not blessings, only you, and eventually, he fucks deep enough he hits your womb, that place he’s reckless and careless about, and you start to milk him deep. A moan of his name, Joel, sleep addled, love deluded, what else would excuse or allow treatment like this, and you come on his cock like you always do. Long pulls of a too easy, too delicious cunt, the contractions of your womb reverberating through every line of your muscles while you suck him deep and cry into the pillow. Joel swears and sweats worse than he did through his long twelve hour shift, grunting and panting above you. And when he anchors himself above you on locked, bulging arms to watch the drag of your red cunt around his cock, slicked with desperate want for something neither of you will ever have, the way your ass bounces and jiggles against his too rough thrusts, he comes too. Fills you deep and full to the brim, enjoys the spill of it around the place where he fills you, spills himself dry. And he doesn’t feel content, Joel, but he does feel satisfied, he does feel sated. And he tells you that you’ve been a good girl because he knows you like it and knows you deserve it. And if he presses a soft and gentle kiss to the wing of your naked and sweating shoulder, it isn't because he loves you, but because he needs you.

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