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strang3lov3 · 3 months

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Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder.

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.”

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.”

“Mhm.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.”

You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps.

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it.

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.”

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.”

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice.

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.”

“I said yes,” you snap.

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.”

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being -

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected.

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.”

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.”

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.”

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that.

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song.

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.”

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.”

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch.

“The other one.”

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace.

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him.

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?”

“Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.”

“No. It was burning me.”

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.”

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.”

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you.

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.”

“You can ask, you know.”

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.”

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.”

“Yes.”

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?”

“It’s not your business.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.”

“I don’t want to,” you whine.

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.”

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.”

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.”

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip.

“All of it.”

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.”

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?”

“Somewhere else.”

“Right. Somewhere else.”

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you.

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?”

“Yes.”

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.”

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck.

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass.

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is.

“Joel.”

No answer.

“JOELLLL,” you yell.

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.”

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?”

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.”

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?”

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too.

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.”

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you.

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.”

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel.

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.”

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now.

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper.

“Exactly.”

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says.

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs.

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while.

“Figures.”

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary.

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that.

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it.

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.”

You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before.

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure.

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over…

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized.

“Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.”

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it.

And fucks you, and fucks you.

And keeps fucking you.

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.”

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

“Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.”

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle.

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?”

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

“But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.”

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.”

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.”

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head.

“Super, yeah. Sore.”

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #tlou joel #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #brat tamer!joel miller #brat taming #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #grumpy joel

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sanarsi · 1 month

Text

But daddy, I love him!

older boyfriend!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Your controversial old boyfriend is back from his deployment. Your father is against your relationship. Or Joel fucks you on his motorcycle. Warnings: +18, MDNI, angst, arguing, age gap (reader is 20, Joel is 40), ex-soldier!boyfriend!Joel, rough sex, unprotected PIV, pussy eating, dirty talk, dom!Joel, motorcycle sex, daddy kink, pet names (daddy, sir, baby girl, good girl), hair pulling, no-outbreak AU and no-Sarah Wordcount: 4,5k An: My boyfriend’s back, and he’s cooler than ever. This text inspired me to write this wonder. Hope you enjoyed bestiesss <3 Music I worked with: Lust For Life - Lana Del Rey, The Weeknd

Masterlist

One message made your heart fill with warmth and your lips formed the most sincere smile in months.

Joel: I'm back.

The same message also caused hell in your house.

Screams echoed throughout the house for almost an hour. Your throat and eyes hurt.

Another dose of hot tears ran down your cheeks as you tried to convince your father to let you meet with Joel.

With your controversial old boyfriend who you met right after your eighteenth birthday. And the whole world could be against your love but you didn't care. After all, it was with him that you experienced the most beautiful things in your life.

He was the one who treated you like his princess the moment your father stopped.

"I forbid you!" Another scream from your father echoed through the kitchen.

Your mother was sitting at the kitchen island drinking soothing herbs. She hadn't said a word for several minutes. Just stared blankly into space.

She wasn't defending you.

She was on her husband's side.

Not on her own daughter's.

"I'm not sixteen anymore so you can forbid me from doing something!"

"You're my daughter! I have the right to forbid you from making the biggest mistake of your life!"

And that's how this conversation looked from the moment it started. From the moment your father accidentally saw a message on your phone.

If it weren't for your inattention, you would be sitting in your room now, waiting for another message. Happy that you're about to see your beloved after a few months of separation. Without letting your parents know where you're going, who you're with, and when you're coming back.

"He's not a mistake!" you screamed, more tears streaming down your neck. Your preparation for the meeting went to hell. You looked like seven disasters. Mascara smudged under your eyes, irritated eyes, tears that had washed off your makeup.

Everything was wrong.

Father snorted dryly at your words, sending you an amused look. It hurt.

"Child, this man is using you. He's manipulating you because you're young and stupid," he growled in disgust.

You blinked a few times, not knowing if it was your heart that broke or the cup your mother had dropped. You stared at the man who raised you and was once the most important person in the world to you.

It was amazing how time can change everything.

"Is that what you think of me?" you asked, smiling sadly. "That I am stupid because I fell in love with someone who treats me like an equal? Shows me respect and understanding?" you said, your voice breaking more and more.

"Oh, please," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Do you really believe that a guy my age can love you and not just want you in his bed?" There was simply hatred in his gaze. There was no compassion or understanding. In his eyes, you were a stupid and disobedient girl.

You snorted sadly, shrugging your shoulders.

"I don't know, you used to," you replied with venom.

The kitchen fell silent. Your mother was afraid to even look up at you. And your father seemed to be on the verge of madness. He was breathing heavily, looking at you with something dark in his eyes.

You felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket and your heart immediately beat faster.

He had arrived.

"Get out of my sight," he growled, pointing his finger towards the stairs leading to your bedroom.

It was a pity that you didn't intend to go back there. Not after the hatred with which your own family treated you. If they could, they would have disowned you and everything you represented.

But looking at your parents, who were together out of habit and not love, you were glad that you were different than they wanted you to be. You weren't the one who was unhappy. You weren't the one who cheated on your partner at the first opportunity. You weren't the one who fell asleep after an argument about who was the worse person.

You loved and were loved.

"With pleasure," you said angrily and left the kitchen.

But instead of going to your room, you went to the hall to put on your shoes and take your backpack. It was amazing that you had packed everything you needed in it.

All your belongings.

"Where are you going?" he shouted, following you.

"I'm getting out of your sight. Just like you wanted," you said indifferently and with one movement you opened the door. You didn't pay attention to how hard the wooden board hit the wall when you went outside.

Your gaze immediately fell on the end of the sidewalk to the man sitting on the motorcycle.

Time stopped for a moment.

There was only him, smoking a cigarette in peace. A gentle wind blew his flannel shirt, jeans hugged his legs and gel held his slowly graying hair perfectly.

He looked even better than you remembered.

Broad shoulders and muscles tensed under the dark green material. The same wrinkle between his eyebrows and that tired look that immediately lit up at the sight of you.

Your father's screams didn't reach your ears.

There was only the strong beating of your heart and that smirk you missed. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you watched him throw the cigarette butt on the ground and reach behind him for helmet.

The helmet he bought specially for you.

"You're not going anywhere with that man," your father growled, tugging on your elbow to get your attention.

That was enough for the endless moment to end.

You looked at him over your shoulder with a hateful look and yanked your hand out of his grip.

"Try to stop me," you said defiantly.

Your father knew who Joel was. And he might have doubted your love, but he couldn't doubt that Joel was capable of protecting you.

That's why when you saw a spark of hesitation in his eyes, you immediately took the opportunity and ran towards the motorcycle.

"Get back here!" he shouted, running after you. Joel started the motorcycle as if on cue. You grabbed the helmet he held out to you and quickly sat down behind him. Your fingers trembled as you try to buckled it.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you."

You shivered when you heard the voice you missed so much. You looked up at Joel who was just sending a warning look to your father. The tension between them sent shivers down your spine.

"You're disgusting," he hissed.

Joel snorted under his breath and smiled widely. With superiority.

"Nah, your daughter thinks I'm pretty good," he teased. Your breathing quickened when you finally managed to get the clasp off and you hugged him tightly around the waist. "See ya," he winked, amused at the state he left your father in.

Anger seethed in him and if he could, he would have started to boil. But you couldn't see it anymore because Joel, with a roar of his motor, drove away from your house. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you could barely catch your breath, let alone know what was going on around you. Your arms tightened around him as you pressed your cheek against his back.

Feeling him again after so many months was a completely different experience. It was better than getting high after rehab.

His scent was intoxicating. He smelled like a man you would trust with your life. His muscles felt like a place you never wanted to leave again.

He was like home.

"Hi, baby," he said tenderly, placing his hand on your thigh. You felt shivers when he started stroking your leg in that caring way. He laughed quietly feeling your body tremble.

Everything around you became quieter.

"I missed you."

"Yeah?" he asked teasingly.

"Mhm," you nodded hugging him tighter to which he tightened his hand on your thigh.

"I missed you too."

You smiled at his words which made warmth spread through you.

He missed you.

And suddenly everything in your head calmed down.

All unwanted thoughts and worries disappeared.

There was only the sound of the motorcycle, the wind whistling over your skin, his body against yours and the view of green fields.

You felt good again.

Safe.

"Do you have everything with you?" he asked, calmly leading the way. You nodded. "Just your backpack?"

"Yeah," you replied, swallowing hard. The change in tone didn't escape his notice. He removed his hand from your thigh and slowly ran it over your hand on his stomach.

"That's good. I have more room to maneuver with the gifts," he said with a smile, then took your hand and pulled it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on it. You shivered at the feeling of his lips and beard on your skin.

You didn't even realize how much you missed it. His words, as always, brought you comfort.

He always took care of you.

From the moment he decided to save you from the aggressive guy at the club. From the moment his worried eyes met your terrified gaze.

From the moment he offered to walk you home after that, you always felt safe with him.

It took so little to fall in love with him.

His gentle smile, warm gaze, and careful touch were enough.

"Want to show you somethin’, sweet girl."

Then there was only a loud growl, acceleration and a tighter grip on his body. The landscape slowly passed before your eyes as you drove fast through almost empty roads.

A feeling straight out of a movie.

That's how you felt all the time when he was around.

His gaze was always on you, making you hot and butterflies in your stomach. With him, you were the main character. Always. Even when you argued, all he wanted was for you to stop looking at him with pain in your eyes.

He treated you like his princess.

Only to treat you like a whore at night.

And he was the best at it.

Motor began to slow down so you lifted your cheek from his back to look around. You were on top of some mountain. The view of the forests and the city stretched in the distance. You had never been here before. You didn't even know this place existed even though you had lived here your whole life.

Joel stopped, turning off the engine and patted your thigh. You knew what to do so you deftly jumped off the seat.

There was silence all around, interrupted by the singing of birds. It was peaceful. Perfect.

You took off your helmet and hung it on the handlebars. A strong arm immediately wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer. You bumped into Joel's hard chest and gave him an innocent look that immediately made him start to harden in his jeans.

His gaze began to carefully examine every inch of your face, as if he was seeing you up close for the first time. But you hadn't changed even a little. The same shiny eyes, firm skin and delicious lips.

His fingers ran down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. A smirk bloomed on his lips as he felt you still react so intensely to his proximity.

You were so damn soft under his rough touch.

"Will you smile for me?" he asked, grabbing your chin. As if on cue, you couldn't help but smile. "That's my girl," he praised, returning your smile. "That's what I missed the most." His thumb slowly ran over your skin until it caught your lower lip. "And that," he added and without waiting, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You closed your eyes immediately, melting in his arms.

The longed-for and deep kiss he gave you, easily made your knees tremble. You slowly embraced his neck, pulling him even closer, thirsty for his closeness.

His attention.

His tenderness.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips into his when he tightened his hand on your hip. His touch was domineering and his lips dominant. His desire for you didn't decrease even a little, it actually increased.

You felt a slap on your butt and his fingers digging hard into your skin. You moaned, thirsty for more.

More of his hands on your body.

More kisses on your warm skin.

More of him.

“I missed those sweet sounds of yours,” he whispered against your lips as he slowly pulled away with a blissful smile. You caught your breath licking your swollen lips, and your eyes began to sparkle again as you looked at him.

Unlike you, he had changed.

He had more wrinkles around his eyes. His hair was starting to lose its shine and his beard was turning grey.

He was aging before your eyes.

“You were supposed to go to war, not to a beauty salon,” you said biting your lip to hide your growing smile.

He snorted, looking away for a moment in amusement. This sound was enough to make your stomach clench pleasantly. His smile was the most beautiful sight you could have after so many months of emptiness.

“Are you teasing your old man? Naughty,” he smacked his lips disapprovingly and squeezed your butt harder before he let go of you.

You took a step back, letting him get off the bike. He straightened with a soft groan as his spine cracked.

“I guess it’s been a while since anyone gave you a massage,” you said teasingly as he slowly walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Unfortunately, where I was, there weren’t any masseuses as pretty as you,” he teased, wrinkling his nose as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

A few soft kisses.

You giggled as he started kissing your cheek and neck, teasing you with his stubble.

“I have something for you,” he whispered, straightening up and reaching under the collar of his shirt.

A soft jingle caught your attention.

The sun reflected off the silver dog tag that hung between you.

“This was my last mission,” he announced, placing the necklace around your neck this time. “I’m yours now.”

Those words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You blinked a few times, looking at the dog tag. The embossed letters with his data gleamed in the sunlight like a promise. Such a little piece of metal that meant so much. So much to him and now, so much to you.

He belonged to you now.

Your heart almost fell out of your chest when he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him again.

“Now I can take care of you properly.”

The gentleness and certainty with which he said it made you dizzy. And suddenly all those months of waiting turned out to be worth every minute.

Just so he can come back to you, giving yourself on an open hand.

“Will you accept me?”

Willyouacceptmewillyouacceptmewillyouacceptme.

It's the same as 'will you marry me'.

You stared at him expectantly, slowly starting to lose your breath. Did he really- No, he can’t. Or can he?

Joel saw the confusion in your eyes. You were only twenty, you had barely started living an adult life, and he was offering you something that was an obligation until the very end.

And maybe he was old, he didn't have as much strength and will to live as he once did, but he wanted you.

He wanted to take care of you.

He wanted you to be able to rely on him in everything.

So that you wouldn't be afraid to ask him to buy an extra pack of jelly beans or to kill a man for you.

He wanted to help you get through life, protecting you from anything that could hurt you.

“Say yes, my love,” he whispered, stroking your cheek.

Your silence began to drag on. But you didn’t think about the answer. You tried to understand what happiness had just reached you.

“Say yes and I will never let you worry about anything again.”

He needed to hear your consent even though he saw the answer on your face. That's why he wasn't afraid to wait when you were silent for a long time.

He leaned down and gently brushed his nose against yours. His hot breath mixed with yours and even such a small thing made you shiver.

"Say yes and be mine," he whispered, tilting his head so he could run his lips over yours.

Gently like the beating of a butterfly's wings.

Your eyelids began to droop from the feeling of warmth he began to surround you with.

"Y-"

And that was enough for his hand to tangle in your hair, holding you tightly as he pressed his lips painfully against yours.

You moaned, wincing as your teeth clashed and his tongue immediately entered your mouth. Only now could you feel the desire from longing for you.

He kissed hard but slowly, passionately.

He kissed so that you felt a tingling between your thighs.

The tingling quickly turned to excitement as he pulled closer your hips until you could feel his hard cock. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he gently rubbed himself against you with a soft groan.

After that, everything happened quickly. You had no idea how you ended up on the seat of a motorcycle, without any shorts or panties, while making out with him. But you don’t mind. As long as his hands gripped your body like that, you didn't care about anything.

He growled softly, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter. His thumbs were close to your little slice of heaven, sensually massaging your skin.

And you might have been wet before, but now you were leaking onto the seat.

Joel didn't care that he made a mess. He didn't care about the teeth marks he left on your skin as he went lower and lower. He didn't care about how his cock painfully dug into his jeans, wanting to get out.

He cared about how hard your nipples were standing before he even ran his warm tongue over them.

The animalistic groan that escaped your throat made his balls ache.

"Fuck baby, I haven't even started with you yet and my cock is about to fall off," he mumbled without stopping sucking on your nipple.

Another wave of arousal hit your clit, allowing more juices to flow out of your hole and between your ass cheeks. His teeth began to tease your already oversensitive nipple, making you whimper.

"Joel, please."

He loved hearing your pleas. How beautifully his name sounded on your lips when you were possessed by pleasure. And Joel never refused you. So after a moment he was kneeling in front of you, gripping your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs even wider for him.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned at the sight of your cunt. Wet, leaking and throbbing, just for him. “Daddy’s home.”

And he dove in, collecting with his tongue everything that leaked out of your hole with gusto. You moaned loudly watching as he greeted your pussy. Groans of pleasure left his throat every time another dose of your arousal appeared on his tongue.

Like a thirsty man, he dove his tongue into you and your loud moans mingled into one. All your blood began to flow to that one small point, which after a moment was between his lips.

He sucked on your clit with a purr and allowed himself to give it a moment of attention. He made slow circles with his tongue and your legs began to tremble.

"I'm gonna come," you warned him, panting heavily. He glanced up at you, not taking his mouth off you, and you could have sworn that this view should be immortalized in a museum. You could watch for hours as he knelt thirsty in front of you to eat you.

The grimace of pleasure on your face only made his balls boil. He ran his tongue along the length of your slit and sucked on your clit again. You whimpered as you felt your orgasm approaching.

You didn't even have to try, because a wave of pleasure hit you a moment later when he bit down on your nerve nub. Fucking nirvana you could feel again after a few months of separation.

You shuddered, pushing your hips into him as he rode you through your orgasm for as long as he could.

And only when he cleaned everything that had flowed out of you, he let you breathe. He stood up with a quiet groan and immediately reached for his belt.

"My balls are about to fall off because of you, princess," he joked with a quiet snort. You breathed heavily as you watched him unzip his fly and reach under his underwear.

With a sigh of relief, he pulled out his painfully hard cock, which quivered at the contact with the outside world. You swallowed hard as you saw another drop of precum flowing from his head. He pumped it slowly a few times and approached you, positioning himself perfectly between your legs.

He held his cock firmly at the base and with a hiss of satisfaction he slammed it perfectly into your clit a few times. You whimpered, clenching around nothing.

"Yeah, just like that."

He guided the tip down and ran it between your wet slit. His head was soft and warm so your body didn't resist as he slowly pushed a few inches into you. You began to breathe harder, watching as he slowly disappeared deeper and deeper into your pussy.

Joel moaned in satisfaction, feeling your hole accept him perfectly smoothly. As if she was just waiting for his cock to fill her up again.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already feeling full but you could see he had to go in a few more inches. You clenched on him in warning and he grabbed your hips tightly to hold you in place as he slowly pushed deeper into you.

“Good girls take everything their daddies give them,” he gasped, watching you helplessly look at the spot where you were connecting. “You’re a good girl, right?”

You squealed, pressing your lips together tightly and nodding your head eagerly. His cock made you not know if it was better to breathe or not. Joel smiled, pleased with your reaction and with one hard movement, he pushed himself all the way into you. You moaned like a wounded animal as your eyes rolled back and your head fell back.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned in pleasure, feeling your pussy clench around him in welcome.

And then it started.

His hips slowly pulled back only to thrust hard into you. Joel was never gentle with sex. And you never thought you'd like it. But you did.

His fingers dug hard into your flesh as his hips began to painfully slam against yours. You were barely able to stay in your seat. The loud moans had already scared away the birds and his growls had scared away all other animals. He was pounding his rock hard cock into you, causing more and more juices to spill from your hole.

The wet sound echoed around every time he thrust into you. And he didn't care that you couldn't catch your breath. He didn't care that you had nothing left to scream for. You just existed. Taking everything he gave you. Like a regular fuck doll.

"Fuckin’ take it," he growled.

You slowly started to choke but that only intensified the pleasure that accompanied his cock as he drove it into you all the way. He watched you struggle with the overwhelming feeling of bliss that he gave you. He loved seeing you like this.

His cock literally took your breath away.

But then his thumb appeared on your clit and you automatically gasped for air. You tensed up, moaning throatily until your knees trembled under him. Your pussy immediately became tighter, making his balls shiver.

His thumb made quick circles around your clit and you couldn't fight the feeling that appeared in your legs. You were helpless.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes," you started to repeat on the edge of your endurance. Your body was fighting the approaching orgasm, making the blood start to boil throughout your body.

His finger disappeared and in return, you felt his hand grab your hair tightly. You weren't even able to hiss in pain when he pulled you to him. You looked at animal instinct in his eyes, feeling how he intensified his thrusts.

"Father didn't want you?" he asked, panting heavily. You clenched your jaw tighter as he jerked you harder. A devilish smile appeared on his lips. "Don't worry, baby. Now I will take care of you."

"Yes," you hissed, fighting the feeling that was slowly overpowering you.

"Yes what?" he growled, tugging harder at your hair. He leaned down, running his tongue over your neck to finally plant a gentle kiss.

“Yes, sir,” you repeated. He smiled against your skin

“Good girl,” he praised you, pleased and bit into the spot right after your ear. And then you were gone.

You moaned like a real slut, coming on his cock. Your legs began to tremble as he continued to fuck you mercilessly.

A wave of orgasm flooded your body, cutting off your access to oxygen, and another wave, flooded his cock. Your juices began to drip down his balls as with a groan, he continued to suck on your skin, marking you.

Moans, sighs and squeals mixed into one as your pussy pulsed around him. And that brought him to the end. He bit painfully into your neck and holding you tightly, thrust into you several times. Hard and deep, filling you with all of his seed.

His throaty groan sent vibrations through your body as he finally stopped. You panted heavily, still pulsating until his cum started to flow out of you too.

"Fuck, I missed you," he groaned pulling away from you so he could look at your face. Tiredness mixed with bliss. But it was your sparkling eyes that said it all.

You smiled lazily as he rested his wet forehead against yours, allowing both of you to calm your racing hearts.

"I would possess you in every way possible and I would never get enough of that sweet pussy of yours."

You snorted helplessly at which a smile blossomed on his lips. And then he just kissed you. Tenderly and slowly. Finally able to enjoy your closeness

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut #sanarsi fic

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sylvies-chen · 2 years

Text

I think there’s something so deeply and intimately and morbidly true about The Last of Us’s primary thesis which is that humanity’s fatal flaw, in that very Shakespearian way, is that we are destined to care too much about one another so much so that we discard the collective entirely. like we have such a capacity to love the human race and humanity as a whole, to grow our communities and govern cities how we know best and foster such connection with the masses which we are part of, but it’s overtaken by our capacity to love even just a single other person. like one human can come into your life that creates such an intrinsic and passionate love in you— or maybe two people or a family’s worth or any small number— and you suddenly would burn entire villages down just to keep them safe.

joel doesn’t blink twice murdering to find ellie. he doesn’t look back when he decides to do what he does at the hospital later on. he has no remorse about any of it it, because this one girl has grown to mean more to him than any possible greater good could ever mean. and it’s reciprocal. ellie would— and does— do anything she can to help him, save him, protect him, and, eventually, to avenge him. because that’s what you do when you love someone. not when you love people. when you love someone.

and it’s selfish, in a way??? because we love these people and would do so much for them because they mean more to us than other strangers do. it’s exactly like an iteration of the trolley problem, actually. one track has your daughter on it and one track has fifty people. don’t even try telling me you wouldn’t go onto track B if it meant saving your daughter and her puppy dog eyes from the whimpering and pain and fear. The Last of Us says yes, you would. I would. we all would. and like yeah that is our greatest weakness, that we have such a unique ability to love a handful of people so deeply that our compassion towards community and strangers and the bigger collective starts to slip from view. but goddamn what a fucking great fatal flaw it is to have. we are all going to die and the world will burn because we loved another person too much.

#i wrote a poem about this #idk if i should post it bc i dont want to risk someone stealing it #but yeah… this concept has me really thinking #the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou #the last of us spoilers #tlou spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and ellie

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macfrog · 2 months

Text

birth of venus sex on fire chapter twelve

these two mean the world to me. thank you for coming on this journey with them. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: if you love something, you let it go.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, lurve, fingering, masturbation, cum eating, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, some angst, soft!joel, cocky!joel (we missed him!)

word count: 12.6k

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“Alright, let’s get into it.”

He sits on the other side of the table, legs crossed and balancing the notebook on his knee. Twirls a pen around his thumb, catching it without looking. He’s too busy scanning the page in front of him, the list of questions he’s about to drill you on.

Let’s get into it, he says, and then stares silently at the scribbled lines.

Your shadow splits a shard of sunlight across the office. Knee jerking, palms clammy and fingers twisting around each other. You glance down at your outfit – the pointed heels Martha swore went with your dress, the jewelry she promised didn’t look tacky – and straighten your skirt.

Let’s get fucking into it.

“What are your responsibilities in your current role?” he asks.

You swallow. It feels like sandpaper. “Well, uh…”

He doesn’t look up. Not to ask the question, not to wait for your answer. Just stares down, spins the pen, bites his lip until it turns white.

Focused. Razor sharp. You’re not even in the same room.

You turn on your heel and begin pacing. “I manage my boss’s schedule, from nine a.m. Monday to nine p.m. Sunday. I get everything in order, plan out his days, make any bookings. I take calls, I answer emails, I…”

He’s still not looking. He bounces his foot, leather shoes catching the sun. His watch face leers back at you. There’s not a mark of ink on the paper in front of him.

“Hey,” you click your fingers, “Are you even listening to me?”

Joel shakes the frown from his face. “Huh? Oh,” he clears his throat, straightens in his creaky chair, “Yeah, I’m listenin’. I’m…I’m here.”

“Come on, man,” you huff, “You said you’d help me out.”

“And I am. I’m helping you out.”

You glower. “What did I just say?”

His shoulders wriggle. “You know…paperwork, and…Is this –? Is this really what they’re going to ask?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, collapsing into the couch opposite. Your arms cross, like some crumpled tantrum of a woman. “I found it online. They’re all art director questions, supposedly.”

He turns the notebook around. The first sheet flops over.

“Describe yourself in three words,” Joel recites.

“I was gonna go creative,” you count on your fingers, “driven, and then I couldn’t decide between perceptive or observant.”

He squints, tongue clicking against his teeth. He stares at your raised fingers. Thoroughly unimpressed.

“Right,” he stands, “Yeah, I don’t know, kid. A company like this, taking on a new art director, and this is what you think they got waitin’ for you? I mean, what’d I ask you?”

You scoff, twisting to watch him cross over to the window.

Between the sun and your deflated spirit, he stands like some kind of god. High up on the top floor of his skyscraper, towering over the streets. Towering over you.

He’s haloed by the blazing sun. Light arrowing from behind, spilling all over his wide shoulders and dipping in every fold and crease of cashmere. The northern compass point, the magnetic pull turning everything towards him.

Joel’s fingers snap, a hair away from your nose. “Tip number one: don’t stare at the interviewer like that. Asked you a question.”

“Wasn’t staring,” you mumble, shifting when he sinks down at your side. “You really don’t remember what you asked me?”

“Of course I do. I’m asking if you do.” He fiddles with a thread on the couch at your back.

You straighten as though his hand might be iron hot. “I remember…remember you asking what success looked like to me.”

Joel nods once.

“Remember you asking why I wanted out of my old job.”

“Yep.”

You flick a finger around the office. “I remember you asking what I’d change in here. How I’d make the office better. But I don’t know what interior design has to do with being an art director, Joel.”

He smiles. “This,” he shakes the pad, “is generic bullshit.”

“Generic bullshit,” you echo, pinching it from his grasp. You read over the bullet points – your strengths, your weaknesses, how you do under pressure.

“Yes,” Joel says. “Doesn’t tell ‘em a thing about you. Well,” his eyes widen, “I guess it tells them you tried searching their damn questions, the morning of the interview.”

A small, tired sigh falls from your lips. You melt back into the couch, horizontal under Joel’s extended arm. “I just want to be prepared,” you whisper. “I want to be the best person they meet.”

“What makes you think you ain’t already?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t even know which three words describe me.”

He chuckles. “How about more than capable? Hm? The dream assistant. Future art director.”

“Cheesy,” you mutter, batting him away. “I just…I really want it. I want something that feels like mine, you know? And I know I’d be fucking good at it.”

He falls quiet. He thumbs the corner of the pages, knuckles brushing against yours in a way that feels deliberate. Feels familiar.

It’s as though he might turn his hand, open his palm for yours to slip safely into. Lock his fingers through yours, squeeze once for good luck, twice to double it – and a third time, to tell you something he knows would make you flee.

But you don’t flinch, and neither does he.

Instead, he pulls himself up – a mighty groan as he straightens.

You bite back a snark about his age. Stupid fifty-year-old boss, stupid old bones. Stupid smartass.

Joel whips open the bottom drawer of his desk – the one you’d come to know as his junk drawer – and heaps diary after diary on the mahogany surface. Their leatherbound covers and splintered spines, the warped pages packed between.

With a tiny ha (and a click in his joints that you notice even from across the room), he pushes himself back up.

“September, September…” the pages flutter between his thumbs, “…September second, right?”

“What are you –?”

“Here,” he says, and reclines back beside you. He slides the diary into your lap. “September second, two o’clock.”

Your eyes narrow, following an inky trail linking geometric sketches and games of tic-tac-toe; the words college and assistant, a crude drawing of a house.

“So…” your lips purse, “…on September second, you were doing no work and doodling in your planner. What about it, Joel?”

He taps the top of the page, finger settling right below a name.

Penned in his neat handwriting – the trademark font that, after three years, you’re used to finding on sticky notes and signed with the letter J. It’s underlined, then boxed in by more scribbled lines. So familiar, you barely even take it in at first.

You blink twice.

It’s your name. Your full name.

“This is the day of my interview?” you ask.

Joel dares one fleeting glance at your lips. “Mhm. These are the notes I took, the day we met.”

You look down to the diary and back again. Almost an entire page of nonsense scribbles, hieroglyphic trains of thought bleeding from one drawing into another.

You frown. “You really didn’t listen to a fucking word I said, did you?”

He chokes on a laugh, shaking his head. “You had the job before your ass hit that chair, genius. All that interview was, was playing ball. Seeing how hard you could swing.”

But you’re more confused than you were before he emptied his desk. You flick through the book, spine dangling loose from the pages.

There are no other notes, no other candidates’ names – only reminders for Lunch with Mom and Massage 10AM. Meetings with past clients, deadlines long gone. One obnoxious, hot pink gel pen autograph in May, marking Martha’s birthday.

Yours is the only name he bothered to jot down. The only interview he thought to memorialize – in a gallery of distracted doodles.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

He plays with his tie as he admits it. Nervous schoolboy, avoiding your eye like he did back on Maple Street. It’s a side to him you didn’t know existed, not until a few weeks ago – and seeing it again, you realize how much you missed it.

“There were four other interviews before yours. Every single one of them sat in that lobby waiting for Martha to call down. You –” he taps your hand, “– you got in the elevator and brought yourself up. You remember how shocked Martha was to see you?”

Sure I do, you think.

She stared you down the entire walk over to her desk. She stuttered and stammered her way through a sentence, once she realized who you were. She kept peering over the top of her monitor to steal glances at you when she thought you weren’t looking.

“I…I just thought I looked a nervous wreck,” you tell Joel.

He hums. “Well, you stood up when I opened my door. You held your hand out first. You were scared shitless – I knew you were – but you never lost your footing. You got no idea just how impressive you are, all by yourself.”

He taps on the sheets in your lap. “Now – find me a question on your list that tells them all that.”

It’s not as if you don’t know how these things go. You’ve sat in on plenty of interviews with Joel before – catching anything each quivering candidate says that might’ve slipped through his net, placing bets with yourself on who he’ll pick.

After a few months, he started asking what you thought.

You came to notice the discarded resumes of men you’d deemed sycophants, ladder-climbing leeches in tight, tawny ties – in piles to be shredded. There wasn’t a suit in the building that you and Martha hadn’t been asked to screen, before they were even considered for hiring.

Joel has the sharpest bullshit detector you’ve ever known. You don’t get to where he is without the radar for it. He knew exactly which guys were assholes of the highest order – he was just making sure you always did, too.

Stupid, stupid smartass.

A polite knock at the door interrupts your thought.

“Joel?” Martha calls, “Joel, your ten o’clock is here.”

He curses under his breath. His eyes shift sideways. “Who the hell is my ten o’clock?” he mumbles.

“Salazar,” you whisper, lips closing around a giggle. “Quarterly, remember?”

“Goddamn it,” he groans. He stands up, holding a hand out to pull you to your feet. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’ll be an hour, tops. We can pick straight back up.”

“It’s okay,” you slot the diary and notepad under your arm, “I should get back to work anyways.”

“Calmed your nerves, at least?”

You smile. “Sure.”

“Liar.”

“Tip number two: don’t ask dumb questions, Miller.”

“Oh,” he scoffs, “We’re starting a list now?”

“Mhm. Three can be: don’t doodle during the interview.”

He elbows you towards the door, leaning close. “Four,” he murmurs, “Don’t get yourself fired.”

You grin as you slip outside.

“You couldn’t handle this place without me.”

Mr. Salazar loves to tell a story.

Joel’s still stuck with him, almost two hours after the guy showed up. With a pointed finger and something that felt as sacred as a blood oath, Martha made you promise you’d leave on time.

Whether we’re still in that office or halfway to Timbuktu, do not wait up. Just go, alright? Or I will hand you your ass, sweetheart.

Thirty minutes out, you’re pacing back and forth. Body humming with jittery nerves, what feels like a glass ball of anxiety rolling around your stomach. A text from Rand weighing down the phone in your blazer pocket: Ready when you are.

You suck in a ticklish breath. “Fuck,” you exhale, jamming your knuckle into the call button for the third time.

The wall rumbles as it delivers the elevator straight ahead. The doors part, and your distorted reflection stares sheepishly back at you.

You blink.

She blinks back.

Your shoulders life with another fractured inhale – and so do hers.

Some tiny, half-there version of yourself. Shrunken and shriveled. She moves when you move, only with half the confidence and double the pressure on her shoulders. She looks like she needs a wine date with Martha.

Scared fucking shitless, you think. Three words to describe me.

The doors close again, swallowing her whole, and –

“Nope,” you decide, spinning on your heel.

The shades are tilted enough to obscure the three figures to shadows: Joel, rocking mindlessly in his chair, Salazar talking with his arms, and Martha hunched at the other end of the couch – losing the will to live.

She’d probably welcome the excuse, to get the hell out of there.

Your knuckles rap against the door.

The investor’s lively cadence never slips – where there’s an audience, there’s a show to be had. He twitters on even over the grounding bass of Joel’s voice, the quick click of Martha’s heels.

Her shadow crosses over to the door and she whips it open. Her voice is a sharp whisper.

“You swore to me, you’d –”

You shake your head and grab her arm. Nervous, you mouth, trying to pull her over the threshold.

She won’t fucking budge. She plants herself in the doorway. Her chin lifts, eyes narrowing to study you down her pointed nose – and then she glances over her shoulder.

One second, she exaggerates the shape of the words, holding a finger up.

“Martha –” you hiss, but the door is already closing, and her shadow is already retreating.

You spin around, dragging yourself over to your desk. Another breathe squeezes past your hammering heart, trembling as you let it go. Your phone buzzes again.

This is pathetic. It’s pitiful. You bulldozed your way this far – against all your good sense. Red wine antidote, all that courage now feels more like a weak-kneed hangover.

You fiddle with a pen holder. Your body feels flimsy like rubber.

The door opens again.

“Hey,” Joel says, turning you to face him. He doesn’t look you in the eye – just slips your purse from your shoulder, squeezes your hand. “Walk with me.”

“No,” you wobble in his grasp, “Your meeting –”

He links his arm through yours, locking elbows. “Martha’s got him talking about some ski trip. We got ten minutes. Walk with me.”

Your breath sputters. “I can’t – I can’t do it.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I’m flapping, Joel.”

“Flapping,” he repeats, and the word never sounded more ridiculous than it does with his Texan twang. “What are we flapping over?”

He sways as he walks. It’s no different, no less comfortable than it was a few weeks ago. Just you, Joel, and the Parisian sunset. The light swimming in the Seine, the sweet air circling you both.

Your heel scuffs against the carpet. “You know,” you catch yourself, “just this potentially life-changing job interview I have in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Huh,” his brows quirk, “No big deal, then?”

Your eyes roll. “It wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t given me some big speech about not losing my footing. Now look at me. I’m all over the goddamn place.”

“Take it in baby steps,” he says. “Let’s just get you there first. All you gotta do is walk in like you’re already part of the furniture. Like they’ve been wondering what goes at that little desk.”

“You said the CEO is nice?”

“She is,” he reaches for the call button, “Likes red wine and racecars.”

Your brows flinch. “She likes…What?”

Joel smirks. “I didn’t say we talked for long. That’s all I got on her.”

He drags you into the elevator, hitting the button marked P. Your reflection stands a little taller, little straighter next to his. Mimicking his posture; the still stance and level head. The coolness you’re sure wouldn’t slip even if the world ended tonight.

“Look at that,” he mutters. “You made it to the elevator.”

“Shock,” you whisper, hugging yourself.

You face each other, inches apart. Nerves and momentum upsetting your equilibrium. The bones of the building drum up your spine as you plummet, floor numbers blinking down to zero.

Joel rests his ankles either side of yours. He knocks your feet softly, smiling fondly when you lift your head.

“Read over their website on the drive over,” he says, in the same polite voice he uses with clients. “Their values, the way they operate. Names and faces, all that shit. Keep it fresh, okay?”

You force your cheeks into a flat smile. “Okay.”

“Look at that,” he says. “Killer smile. Getcha any job anywhere.”

“Gross,” you giggle. “Did you wonder, before you found me?”

“Did I wonder what?”

You tilt your head. “What went at my little desk.”

He itches his nose, laughing into a closed fist. He’s blushing, though he’s trying hard to hide it. “Sure,” he shrugs, eventually giving in, “Knew it must be somethin’ pretty special. And you were.”

The elevator dings, and the doors rattle open.

Joel taps your heel and you sulk, leading him out into the garage.

Rand catches sight of you instantly. He jumps out of the Rolls, a wide grin on his lips, and balls his fists. “How we feelin’?” he asks, giving them a hearty shake.

“Little nervous, aren’t we?” Joel replies, patting your arm. “But we’re almost there.”

You’re holding onto him again. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“We’re still in the building,” you utter, tracking Rand’s kiddy jog around the car.

Joel turns, lips at your temple. “Closer than you were five minutes ago, baby.”

The driver grabs the door, turning his palm to usher you inside. “Figure we’ll get there with ten minutes to spare. Always good to be early to these things, right?”

If it weren’t for the six-inch heels on your feet and the seven-figure man on your arm, you’d reach to tighten backpack straps that aren’t there. It’s the same feeling: first day of school, walking into the unknown. Pushed off by grownups who know better.

You’re a grownup, too, you remind yourself.

The same feeling, and the same determination, too. The resolve to walk in there – bright-eyed and bushy-tailed – and be the thing they’ve been waiting for. Be the thing you’ve been waiting for. So –

“Fuck it,” you decide, slipping free from your boss’s grasp. “Let’s do this.”

“Attagirl!” Rand claps his hands and dances back to the driver’s side.

Joel helps you into the backseat, passing your purse over when you’re settled. “Okay?” he asks, one arm leaning on the roof.

“Yep,” you chirp – a crack in your voice that you both ignore.

“Call on your way back if you feel like it, let me know how it went.”

The strip lighting in the garage strains your eyes. “What if you’re still hearing about Salazar’s ski trip?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t ask dumb questions, remember? If you call, I’ll answer.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper.

He clicks his teeth. You’re welcome.

“Next step, little tiger. Go get ‘em.”

After you interviewed with him, Joel took all of twenty-four hours to offer you the job. He said he would’ve called sooner – that afternoon, if he could’ve – but there had been a holdup with the paperwork. His next question was how soon you could start.

He was that sure.

On your first day, you were shown to your new desk. Wiped clean, drawers bare. A bloated water stain in the wood – the mark of a fern plant Martha thought was treated a little too much like an actual child by your predecessor.

She offered to have Joel order a new desk, but you told her you loved it – water stain and all.

You loved the view on each side – the sprawling city, the sun needling between buildings. You loved Martha’s company, and Joel’s daily ritual of strolling over to stretch his legs and, more importantly, gossip.

The job made you feel grown. A little kid in the big city – yes, sir and no, sir, caffeine for breakfast and paperwork for lunch. It was big enough that you wondered whether you’d really fill it – like you wondered if you’d ever fill your desk.

What supplies did a personal assistant need? You spent more time on your feet than sat at your desk. What knickknacks would you collect?

Well, looking at it all now: a jumble of pinched pens and hand-me-down magazines from Martha. A Wonder Woman stationery set your mom bought you; the chipped Kandinsky mug you make coffee in every day.

A plastic ruby ring, from a riverside stroll in Paris.

Looking at it now – you wonder how it ever all fit. Almost three cardboard boxes, plus an oversized Swiss cheese plant. Your desk is empty again, back to the way you found it.

Because you got it.

You got the job.

Junior Art Director. Jesus fucking Christ.

You were in Joel’s office when the call came through. Laying out travel plans for a business trip, organizing documents into the order he’d need them. Busying yourself purely to distract from playing the interview back in your head.

The entire thing was a blur, the interview – film reel already burning in your memory. One second you were traipsing into the building, the next – strolling back out, sun on your face and spring in your step.

It came back in flashing vignettes: the creative director’s cropped bob, her scarlet lips. The rhythmic dunk of her teabag into her mug, her quiet mhms as you spoke.

Her smile grew wider, the longer the meeting went on. Her tea went cold. She asked to see pictures of your artwork – made some passing comment about your skill being of some use for an upcoming project.

She liked you. Better yet, Joel noted – you liked her.

He walked back into his office just in time to hear the tail end of the phone call. Your shaky thank you, the teary goodbye. He waited until you turned, one hand lingering on your shoulder, and gasped when you broke into a giddy grin.

He pulled you into a bear hug, beats of raucous laughter through his chest. You sniffled into his shirt, staining the material with wet mascara.

What’d I tell you? he murmured into your hair, rocking you side to side. What’d I fuckin’ tell you?

A clumsy mash of work blouses and party dresses fills the office.

Glitzy gold and pressed linen, heels and loose ties. A bottle of champagne on a spreadsheet coaster, an overfilled balloon knotted around your chair. The word Congrats swirled in glitter pen.

Martha fills the latecomers in. She orders everyone to drain their glasses and grab their coats. There’s a dive bar not far, she says, with karaoke and a jukebox. Cheap drinks and heavy measures.

A dive bar. The dive bar. AC/DC and all.

You linger over by your desk, alone, swirling the bubbly in your glass. A little more than awkward, what with the gold party hat your coworkers forced over your head – and the heavy heart it’s doing little to soothe.

Your last day as Joel Miller’s personal assistant is over. As of five-thirty, you don’t belong in this office. Come Monday, you’ll have a whole new job, a whole new title behind your name.

It’s as thrilling as it is utterly terrifying.

Martha had your leaving party organized less than an hour after she heard the cheers from Joel’s office. Proof, you told him, that she’ll be just fine on her own.

Proof, he countered, that she has a very selective work ethic.

He’s in good hands, if her current crowd management is anything to go by. She rounds everybody up like cattle, corralling them into a buzzed herd.

“We are leavin’ in five minutes, alright?” she yells over their babble. “Five minutes!”

Rand dips between the bodies, smiling when he catches your eye. He wanders over, tactically dodging Martha’s waving arms.

“Hi, baby,” he says, arms wide.

“Thanks for coming,” you mumble into his suit jacket, wrists crossing at his spine.

He wriggles his tie straight, keeps one arm tight around your shoulders even when you pull away. “Of course,” he says, a dutiful nod. “You were always my favorite. Don’t tell the general over there.”

You smile, feeling it dampen when your eyes slip back over to the sliver of light under Joel’s door. He’s been locked in there all afternoon – the only proof of life the pacing his shadow has done.

Rand cocks his head towards the shuttered office. “He not coming?”

“No idea,” you pick at a hangnail, “Some emergency, apparently. I haven’t seen him since lunch.”

He frowns, watching as you shot what’s left of your champagne. It’s bitter – a sharp sting all the way down.

“I mean,” you gulp, “he’s my boss. He’s at every other party we have. What’s the difference this time around?”

Rand’s eyebrows wiggle. He swallows his first answer. He knows the difference as well as you do.

Still – he says, “He’s a lot of things, is Joel, but he ain’t an ass. He’ll be there.”

Across the room, Martha lassoes the party – leading them over to the elevator. She pauses, beckoning you over their heads. A thin-lipped scowl on her face, before she’s distracted by stragglers.

“Good Lord,” Rand scoffs, a gentlemanly arm through yours, “Bet you ain’t gonna miss that.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Surprisingly, I think I’ll miss her the most.”

As you hover at the back of the bunch, waiting for your very sternly instructed turn to step into the elevator, you glance back at Joel’s office.

The shades are split, pierced somewhere like six feet up. Sliver of lamplight peering through; silhouette of something – someone – staring back.

Come on, you want to call. We’re heading to the bar. Let’s pretend I never broke your heart and you never broke mine. We can dance and kiss like nobody’s watching. We can be okay, you and me.

Martha claps three times as the elevator announces its arrival.

“We’re up, comrade,” Rand quips, and pulls you out of Joel’s sight.

The bar looks the same as it ever did. All chipped mahogany and distressed leather; secret messages etched in secret corners. Slipping between shadow and tacky neon light to order a drink, feeling it hit the back of your skull before you’ve even swallowed the first sip.

It’s no Oasis Wine Bar, but it’ll do.

You’re crammed into a booth opposite some blotchy intern. Kid doesn’t look a day over twenty-one. Martha nudges you closer and closer to the lacquered panel wall, her elbow knocking into yours and splashing your drink over your knuckles.

The group is already a colorful spectrum of drunk: a couple suits slung over the bar, a handful screaming at some vintage arcade game. Rand cuts a merry figure at the bottom of the table, swaying as he garbles to Martha and Deb.

Like a replica of that first night – a playlist of dusty rock tunes, fingertips salty from picking at peanuts. The buzz of conversation fueled by swigs of bitter vodka.

You don’t remember it feeling this shitty, though. This lonely.

The intern leans over the booth, quickly yanking his tie before it folds into a flickering candle. He forces a relieved laugh, then asks, “Are you having a good night?”

“I guess,” you raise your voice over Martha’s cackling, “It’s a little bittersweet, you know?”

His head bobs in a tipsy nod. He looks from face to face, trying to latch onto any conversation that’ll take him. But they all turn away, distracted by some guy in a tropical shirt and his cryptocurrency conspiracy.

The intern stares down at his drink, thumbs tapping the glass.

Poor kid.

You knock on his beer, trying not to look too pitying. “How’s the internship? Liking it?”

He brightens, straightening in his seat. “Yeah, it’s been good,” he chirps. “I’m learning a lot. Mr. Miller is a great boss.”

It’s like being sucker punched by a toddler. Huge blue eyes and rosy cheeks, an unsteady grip around his Budweiser. If he didn’t look so much like a fucking Disney cartoon, you’d lose your nerve.

The alcohol sours on your tongue. “Yeah,” you mumble, sinking back into your seat. “Yeah, he’s – he’s a good guy.”

“Why isn’t he here tonight?” he asks.

“He’s – uh…” You throw a helpless look to your coworker – but she’s too busy showing off pictures of Henry. “…He’s busy tonight, I guess.”

“I’ll bet,” the kid replies. “He’s an important dude.”

“Uhuh,” you elbow Martha’s waist, “He sure is. Would you excuse me?” you ask, and the intern raises his hands. “I’ll be right back.”

Martha and Deb shuffle out of the booth, drinks in hand. You edge your way through the horde to the back of the bar – stopping to refill on the way.

As the muscleman behind the bar tops off your glass, something catches your eye.

Lit only by a flickering Coors Light sign – the red and blue melding into streaks of violet – an iron staircase lingers in the corner. You didn’t spot it last time – or if you did, you were too busy flirting with your boss to pay it any mind.

You drift over, evading the sloshed stagger of one of Joel’s mailroom guys, and click up the steps towards the glowing red of an EXIT sign. Your hip swings into the push bar. The heavy door groans open.

It’s no cooler out here than inside – but it’s deserted. Beer dripping from the lips of toppled bottles, candles wavering in clear pools of wax. A gentle hum from overhead – the string light canopy.

A kitschy little rooftop. A humble hideaway.

Alone, you cross your arms and amble over to the parapet.

The street snoozes, a story below. Leaves flutter along the curb, crushed by the scuffing soles of strangers. Their footsteps echo as they wander off into the dusky night.

No Rolls, you notice. Nowhere to be seen. Not parked on the road, nor in the lot across the street. Nothing but a couple of guys on bikes, standing in the cold light of a store front.

He’s not here. He didn’t come.

He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Whatever emergency he’s dealing with, it’s taken half his day from him. Martha didn’t even bother to ask if he needed coffee, or to fill him in on her neighborhood politics since the new couple moved in next door.

Still – there’s never been anything he couldn’t drag himself away from. Not where you’re concerned. He abandoned an investor for a solid ten minutes last week, just to walk you to the parking garage and tell you shit you already knew.

He could find a way to make it to this, right?

You scoff into your glass, swallow a heavy sip. Swallow back the quiet disappointment, the burden of a broken heart trying desperately to remember the shape it used to be. Before private jets and business trips, before work parties and closed office doors.

Before Joel.

But he swaggered in, didn’t he – suit and tie and that signature smirk. He changed everything, overnight. He fit in all the spaces you thought no one ever would – nestled his way behind your ribcage, kept you warm, kept you safe.

You can’t remember the shape your heart used to be. You don’t fucking want to.

At least, even when you were fighting, he was still in the game. At least he was still sat on the other side of the checkered plain, nudging his king closer to your queen. You never intended on letting him win – but he never intended to in the first place.

He was only ever in it to watch your eyes light, any time he got close.

Now, the board is cleared. Pawns split in two, knights crumbled to dust. And you miss it.

You miss him.

And missing him is – feeling the absence of him in every room. The empty seat next to yours, your empty hand at your side. The weight you know by heart around your waist, the name always on the tip of your tongue.

Missing him is coming up with a million ways that every other man isn’t him. They don’t make you laugh the same, they don’t make you ache. They don’t know your favorite movie; they won’t pull over just to pinch the greasy bacon from your breakfast sandwich.

Missing him is looking for him. Everywhere. Hoping – Jesus, praying you’d walk out of your interview and he’d be stood, arms crossed, leant against the car. Wishing he’d show up again at your door – flowers in hand, kiss on your lips.

Missing him is existing in the negative space he left behind. Flecks of color fluttering in the breeze, fading as though they were never here in the first place.

The door chunks open over your shoulder, and falls closed with a slam. Right on cue. You don’t even flinch when he rolls a chilled beer against your arm.

Missing him is knowing him. Better than anyone ever has, or anyone ever will.

He’s here. He was always going to be here. Because it’s you, and because it’s him.

Joel holds for all of three seconds, then places the beer between your elbows. He leans back against the stone wall.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, taking a sip. His rugged, twelve-hour-day form softens before your eyes.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and he smiles.

“Missed you too, pretty girl.”

You lean in, face smushing into his chest, and snake your arms around his waist.

Joel takes the weight of you like it’s nothing; kisses your head and rests his chin there.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” you mumble, feeling the strange chill of tears on your cheeks.

“Are you kidding?” his voice rumbles through your skull. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that.”

The alcohol lining your gums sweetens. It might just make the initial hit worth the trouble.

“I had a pretty shitty night,” you admit, sneaking a glance at him.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “You ‘n me both. Pretty shitty month.”

His cologne is fresh; woodsy and clean. His rough beard on your skin, his tired collar between your fingers. The landscape of a man you know inside and out.

Joel’s hands lift from your waist, past your ribs and around your shoulders. He lifts the broken heart charm from your chest – so tiny in his large hand, nervously twinkling in the light.

You don’t flinch, this time. Barely even notice his eyes on it.

His expression stiffens. His jaw clenches. His eyes are glassy, lined with tears behind his stone-set snarl.

“I’m sorry for what he did,” he grits, swallowing thickly. “I wanna kill him for it, you know that?”

You lift one shoulder, dropping it with a sigh. “He did what he did,” you hush, “He was a scumbag.”

Joel’s upper lip twitches. Twists, then settles when you trace it with your thumb.

“You didn’t deserve it,” he says. “You didn’t deserve none of what he did to you. You were just a kid, you –”

He lifts his head like coming up for air. Sucks a ragged breath between his teeth, shakes the tears from his vision.

“Hey,” you take his jaw, turning him back to face you, “Look at me. Look.” You flash a cheesy grin, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. “I’m okay, Joel, look.”

His laughter betrays him, breaking from his chest and shattering the wolfish glare. He cups your head, cradling you against his chest again.

There’s nothing between you, now. No spiteful words or suffocating tension; no hurt and no blame. One heart broken and the other bruised, still beating the rhythm of a language only they know.

Still seeking the other out, through all of it.

“What we had,” Joel says softly, “it can’t have been nothing to you, right? Was it really just…?”

“No,” you shake your head, squeezing him, “It was never – You were never just anything to me. I think…” you sigh, “…I think you just pressed on a bruise I had. A bruise I thought I’d gotten pretty good at hiding. And you just…you twisted your thumb into it.”

“I didn’t – I didn’t know about no bruise,” he says. “It wouldn’t’ve mattered if I had, darlin’, I –”

You take his wrists, following the sleeves of his jacket up to his collar. “I know,” you hold his cheeks, “I know it wouldn’t. But you saw straight through me – and the more you saw, the more you cared. And that scared me.”

He blinks down to your lips. “Why?”

“Because it’s never like that, Joel. No one has ever been like that. I was so scared that I’d fuck it up – that you’d figure me out.”

“You gotta fill me in a little here. Figure you out?”

“All my shit. Blake, my dad. All of it.”

Joel frowns. “You think I don’t got shit I didn’t want you seeing, too? My dad, Avery – that ain’t exactly dating profile material, baby.”

You can’t help but laugh. As raw as an open wound, the most vulnerable conversation you’ve ever had – on the roof of a dive bar, with your boss.

And he’s as fucking breezy as though you just handed him the forecast for the day.

“You’re a better man, Joel, than all of them. You mean more to me than anyone. And before I knew it, you had me wrapped around your finger, and…”

“…And I was pressing on that bruise.”

You wince. “Little bit.”

His tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. He scans the rooftop, glimmers of gold in his eyes, and nods.

“Listen to me,” he says, holding onto you. His thumbs swipe your tears away. “I would not hurt you for the world. I wouldn’t. That goddamn email – I just – I didn’t know what else to do. I panicked, and I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Shut up,” he smiles, “I never meant to scare you. I never meant to hurt you. And if we never go back to what we were, then – I guess I gotta live with that. But you? God, baby, I miss you.

“I miss hearing you laugh. I miss being the one to make you do it. I miss talking to you, miss hearing what you think on things. Miss your goddamn Bart Simpson socks ‘n all.”

You turn into his palm, masking your giggle. “Asshole,” you murmur.

“All I want to do is take care of you,” he says. His shoulder jerks, an earnest shrug. “’s all I want. And you don’t make it easy, that’s for sure – fightin’ back at every damn turn. But – I don’t know,” his eyes thin, “Sometimes I reckon it’s what you want, too.”

“Oh,” you wrestle a simper, “You reckon, do you?”

“I reckon,” Joel repeats, bending the word in an exaggerated drawl. “See what I mean?” he tickles your waist, “You’re a pain in my ass.”

Your head tips back with laughter – the first real laugh you’ve heard pass your lips in weeks. Since you were rolling around your bed, poking his ribs for not being able to use chopsticks. A silly, girlish giggle.

The world bursts into color again.

Joel chuckles, too, as you squirm in his grasp. His hands plant on your waist, forehead rolling against yours.

Your lips brush. Your body ignites.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers. “That okay?”

“Shut up,” you echo, letting his lips crash into yours.

He tastes exactly the same as you remember. Strawberry and lemongrass. Sweet, in a way that wakens you. Brightens you, full of life and full of color.

It’s as though only a second has passed since you last felt him like this. Felt his scruff on your cheeks, the warmth of his tongue slipping past yours. Your skin feels like satin on his; your body filling in all the worn gaps that time has taken from his.

Fitting against him like you were carved with him in mind. Chiseled from the same slab of marble, finally found one another through the opaque stone.

He pins you to the parapet; one hand firm on the small of your back, the other at the base of your skull. He leans in, claiming every sense in your body as his own – and you offer them over gladly.

He kisses you like it’s all he’s thought about since that last morning at your place. Like he’s making up for lost time.

Hell, you’re both making up for lost time.

Joel breaks for air, panting against your lips, then instantly kisses you again.

Your hand threads through his hair – the soft salt and pepper, the feathered flicks at the nape of his neck. “Joel,” you kiss him once, twice more, giggling, “We’re like teenagers.”

“I love you,” he replies, kissing down your neck. “So much. So – goddamn – much.”

He trails down to your collarbone, where your chest lifts to meet his hungry lips. He drags teeth and tongue between your cleavage.

There’s a delay in the time the words take to sink into your skin. Like they’re stopping to light every atom of your being first, before they reach your brain. Every bone, every muscle and every cell.

“You…” you breathe, pulling him upright. “…You what?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “That scare you?”

Oh.

“N-no,” you press your finger to his swollen lips, “You…Say it again.”

He pauses. Nods, when he seems to make it up in his mind. His eyes flit from yours down to the mess of your lipstick, and back up.

A man possessed, so it looks, he admits it between labored breaths. “I’m in love with you,” he says. “Have been for a while, I think. You got a terrible habit of driving me fucking insane, pretty girl.”

Oh, shit.

You knew it already. This isn’t news.

He as good as told you in the copy room – and before that, in his office. He told you in Martha’s dining room, told you in your kitchen. He told you every time his lips found yours in Paris, and every time his eyes met yours before that.

If you went back and looked, there’d probably be a trail of clues jotted down in his diary – September second, two o’clock. Great AP score, enthusiastic and friendly. I think I’m in love with her.

He’s always loved you.

It’s just different hearing him say it.

Different to how it felt the last time someone said it to you. Different to how it sounded. There’s no ringing in your ears. There’s no focal shift in your vision.

There’s no…fear.

Joel takes hold of your shoulders. “Don’t run off on me again,” he says, kissing your cheek.

“No, I’m not…I don’t – want to,” you burble, playing with his collar. “You’re just…You might be a couple steps ahead of me.”

“Baby,” he says, a little laugh to it. “That’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m good where I am.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he says, and leans in again. “I’ll wait, as long as it takes.”

You melt into him; his strong hands and steady chest. Teeth taking his bottom lip, releasing it with a little pop. Your fingers twist around his hair, tugging lightly.

A low growl sounds from Joel’s throat. His hips rut against yours, fly of his jeans catches on the material of your skirt.

It nestles somewhere between your thighs. Solid, swollen. Blood hammering beneath denim, grinding into your body. He’s hard.

“We keep goin’ the way we’re goin’,” Joel hints, “and we’re gonna have a problem that ain’t solved so easily.”

You release him, licking your lips. “You think I can’t feel it already?”

He sucks on the skin over your carotid. “You think I ain’t been dealin’ with it for the last three weeks?”

“Poor Mr. Miller,” you pout, “Let me deal with it.”

His cheeks lift, brows drop. Cocky. The Joel you’re used to. The Joel you want.

The Joel you fucking need, right now.

“C’mon,” you slip a hand down his front, cupping the weight of him, “I miss my daddy.”

He squeezes your ass, catching you in a rough kiss when you writhe forward. His teeth graze your ear. “I wanna touch you, baby. I wanna feel you again. This little cunt,” he slips a hand between your legs, “She’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about.”

Fuck.

It was a feeble attempt, anyway – matching his ego. Utterly futile. The guy makes you lose your fucking mind.

You’ve done things for him that you’d never dream of doing for anyone else – would wring their necks for even asking – and here you are, keening into Joel, grinding your dripping pussy into his palm for all the street to see.

“She’s all yours,” you whine, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea. “All yours, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel murmurs against your temple. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? Fuck you nice ‘n hard, make you feel better.”

You moan against his shirt. “Can we go back to yours, Daddy?”

It throws him for one heavy beat. He pauses, breath hot against your jaw, and then presses a barely-there kiss to your lips.

“Yeah, darlin,’” he whispers. “Let’s go back to mine.”

You push off his chest, cunt throbbing with each step towards the fire door. Fingers locked through his – a siren leading her sailor down the wrought iron stairs of Sam’s Saloon. Swimming through bodies, bathing in neon light, breathing in tobacco and tequila.

Joel eyes the booth where his employees sit – folding spinning tops out of beer caps, wagering bets on who’ll still be hungover come Monday.

He turns to whisper in your ear, when a voice strikes like lightning between you.

“Hey!” Martha yells, waving from the corner booth.

You’ve never wanted her to fuck off so badly.

“Just where the hell do you think you two are goin’?”

Joel stumbles into your side, hiding a teenage sort of glee behind your back. It’s contagious – and it riles Martha even more.

You throw your arms in the air, eyes bulging. Take the fucking hint, Martha. “Home?”

“It ain’t even eleven,” she protests, making to stand. “This is your goddamn leavin’ night – what are you doing?”

But you’re already retreating, following the pull of Joel’s hand around yours. Skin like fire, spattering with every touch. There’s nothing – man, myth, or Martha – that could stop you from following him.

You yell it as you swing through the doors.

“Grabbing a paddle!”

Joel leads you with his hands and with his lips down a neighboring street, where his Lamborghini sits at the side of the road. It blinks to life, headlights blinding.

A bruiser of a car – all bulk and brawn and bullish, like the thing is actually rearing. Something of a sharp smirk to it, the same devilish grin its owner so often wears.

He opens your door, steady hand lifting you into the passenger side, and strides around the car. His hand is back between your legs before he’s even switched the ignition on.

“Get – your damn – seatbelt on,” you giggle, slurring the words against Joel’s lips. “I am not letting you drive me home without one.”

His breath is hot and heady, spilling over your tongue with each punch of laughter from his chest. “Alright, alright,” he concedes, clipping the belt into place. He holds his hands out, awaiting your approval.

When you nod, his fingers slip between your thighs.

“You whore,” you snicker – though the sound scatters when he finds your clit. You grab your own belt, yanking it loose from its holder. “Jesus, Joel –”

“There she is,” he coos, pulling out into the road.

He circles her gently at first, massaging over your panties. Middle finger pulsing over the hood, matching the rhythm of your heartbeat flocking south.

Your back arches; nails dig into his wrist. “Daddy,” you gasp, knees parting. Heat quickly soaking through lace and onto leather. “’m gonna – make a mess,” you croon.

“Make a mess, darlin’, it’s okay,” Joel beckons, knuckles white around the steering wheel. “Driving me crazy, watching you like this. Dirty little girl.”

“Let me…” you reach for his thigh, “…Wanna touch you, Daddy.”

He grunts – a sound of refusal. “Give me one first, baby. Here,” and he hooks the slippery lace to the side, fingers parting your folds, “Let Daddy feel you right here.”

Your knee lifts, leg folding against the door, and Joel pushes inside. Two fingers knuckle-deep in one thrust. You yelp.

“Oh, baby,” he tuts, “She’s so wet. She miss her daddy that bad?”

“Yeah,” you whine, watching the thick shine he draws from your cunt. You lift your hips to open wider – and he slots a third finger in.

“Look at her,” he growls, “desperate little cunt. That feel better, darlin’?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you mewl, though you’re not fucking listening to a word he’s saying.

You watch, boneless and blathering, as your hand lowers – replacing where Joel’s was on your clit. Rubbing little circles while he fucks you with his thick fingers. Your back curls again, tits threatening to spill out of your dress.

“Keep doin’ that,” Joel instructs, wrist jacking faster. “You’re close, ain’t you?”

“Shit,” you gasp, walls clenching around him. “So – close, Joel – fuck.”

The car slows to a stop. A red glow seeps through the windshield, lighting your smirk in a dangerous tinge.

Your pussy drools onto the leather seat, throbbing over Joel’s hand. Syrupy and honey-sweet, coating him in a glistening mess the harder he fucks you. A sticky sound, the slap of skin on skin, the beats of your moaning in between.

“Look at me,” Joel says, and you tear your eyes from between your legs. “Keep playing with it. C’mere.”

He tilts your jaw with his free hand and slips his tongue past your lips – the taste of him more dizzying than any drink from that bar. He kisses you until you’re right there, sucking on his tongue, teetering on the edge of your first climax. Crying into his mouth to stop from screaming at the ceiling.

“Daddy, need –”

Joel’s wrist pounds against your clit. He laughs across your tongue.

“Come on, baby,” he groans. “Let me feel her.”

“Say it,” you beg, your head lolling on his shoulder. The streetlights begin to bleed into the car. The light flicks to yellow. “Need you to – to say it.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, turning to let you taste the words.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you break wide open.

The car rolls off again as you come with a violent shudder, crying into Joel’s chest. Daddy Daddy Daddy, fuck me fuck me fuck me.

“I know, I know,” Joel says, riding your high out to the horizon. He stares at the road ahead, only daring a glimpse at the sodden mess between your thighs when you start to come around again.

He works your swollen cunt, fingers gleaming with your orgasm. Slips them over his tongue, licks them clean – and then pushes them back between your sensitive lips.

You rock with the moving car, pulse still rattling your lungs. Your eyes drift down, down: Joel’s spread legs, the shape even bolder in his jeans than before.

You got a terrible habit of driving me fucking insane, pretty girl.

Weak and still quivering, you slip your hand over his belt – feeling his stomach jolt the second you touch it. The dark trail of hair from his navel, the thicker it grows – the harder he tenses.

“Easy,” he clips, adjusting in his seat. “Alright, darlin’. We’re…You’re gonna get us arrested.”

“Good,” you shrug, “I bet you have a good lawyer.”

You slump into his lap, the armrest solid against your ribcage. Trembling fingers loosening his belt, picking at the button of his jeans, husking them loose when he lifts his hips.

“Jesus,” he clears his throat, “Won’t let me drive without a seatbelt, but you’re – you’re fine with – fuck.”

He’s heavy and rock solid, so wide you can barely hold him. Big enough that it takes no effort at all to pull him free. Shaft silky smooth, tip flushed red and leaking deliciously.

Fuck, he’s so pretty. He’s so –

“– pretty, Daddy.”

Joel lifts his hand and holds you at the back of your neck, grip tightening when you dab his head along your bottom lip. “Prettier when you’re playin’ with it, angel.”

Your tongue circles his tip – salt and sweat stirring you from your orgasmic haze. You dribble down his cock, spit racing to the twists of thick hair at his base.

The sound he makes is guttural – a roar of a groan from his chest – when you sink down on him. He fills your mouth instantly, nudging the back of your throat in one.

The car swerves some. Joel curses over your head.

You slip back up – slow. Let your tongue trace every ridge, every vein along the way. All of it perfect perfect perfect – all of it him. Chasing streaks of saliva, the pearly shine of precome beading from his slit.

One hand stroking his hilt, lips suckling around his tip. Kneading his weighty balls – massaging them in your palm, dragging your tongue down to kiss the cushiony skin.

“Pretty girl,” Joel rasps, hips canting to meet every lick, every stroke. “You’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop.”

Mhm, you mumble, gagging around the intrusion. Tears sear across your waterline, spilling from the corners of your eyes. So big, so pretty, so perfect.

He nuzzles deep, stretching the column of your throat wide. “Baby,” he warns, voice sharper, “Baby, you gotta – you gotta stop now.”

Maple, he’d said – that day in your shower. If you say it, I stop.

Say it, you dare him silently.

“I’m gonna – c-come, darlin’,” instead.

Say. It.

“You want that?” he growls, hand surfing over your hair to cup your skull. “You wanna make your Daddy come?”

Your voice flattens, mutes under the strain of his cock. You moan instead, the sound weak and muffled.

“Shit,” Joel says, stomach tensing tensing tensing. “Shit, angel, just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He twitches deep inside. He’s there. Right there.

You slacken your jaw and lick up his shaft, two hands wrapping around it. They slip around the sticky spit, swirling and squeezing while you kiss his tip.

He holds you steady, slowing the car to watch as he fills your mouth.

Two, three warm spurts across your tongue, dripping down the back of your throat. You lap up every drop, tongue swirling the salt around your lips before you swallow it down.

Joel rasps as he steers the car into a dim lot. He strokes your head, jerks when you play a little too much with him.

“Attagirl,” he sighs, “Careful with it. Tryna fuckin’ kill me.”

You giggle, swiping kitten licks at his tip before you slip him back into his underwear. You bat Joel’s hands away, buttoning his jeans and threading his belt back together. Planting heavy kisses into the plush of his tummy.

When the darkness is pierced by flickering fluorescents, you push yourself up.

“Where are we?” you ask, twisting in your seat.

“Home,” he says simply.

A plain man in a dark suit strides over to the car as soon as it parks up. The click of his shoes bouncing off the walls.

Joel swipes at your chin with his thumb. He slips the digit past your lips and you suck it clean. “Dirty girl,” he utters, stealing another hasty kiss before swinging out of the car.

You hop out the other side, tottering around the Lamborghini to meet him at the back.

The attendant’s name badge reads Owen. “Long day, Mr. Miller?”

Joel pats his shoulder in greeting, reaching for your hand. “Long day,” he agrees, and makes for the elevator.

Your head swivels, taking in each lavish vehicle parked under luminous light. Emblems with horses and bulls and wings – plenty more than you don’t even recognize. Each car polished to perfection, groomed within an inch of its life.

Joel flicks the button at the top of the panel. The doors glide closed – smooth and silent. You barely feel it as it scales the building rapidly.

“Wait a second,” you stare at the dazzling PH, “Do you live on the top fucking floor?”

He bites his lip. “Might do.”

You step back. “So you let me bring you into my – my shitty little apartment, and meanwhile you’re –?”

“Woah, woah,” he cuts in. “Your apartment is not shitty.”

“It’s not a fucking penthouse, Joel.”

“It’s a nice apartment!” he protests, squeezing your shoulder. “Do you always gotta be so goddamn dramatic?”

“I bet you could fit my entire place inside your living room. Right? Am I right?”

He clicks his teeth and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Naw,” he says, like a little kid. Twisting his toe into the marble floor. “Dressing room, more like.”

The doors part just in time for him to escape your drumming fists – his boyish snicker filling the cream hallway.

You spill out after him, pulse fluttering dangerously through your veins.

“You know what my place doesn’t have?” Joel says, fishing for his keys. “A poster of Richard Gere. I could use one of those.”

“Oh,” you feign amusement, “Well, you can have mine. I won’t be able to look at it now, anyways.”

He slots the key in the lock and turns. Drinks in the sight of you – on a comedown from only the second-hottest car ride you’ve ever taken.

“Your apartment,” he lifts a finger, “has you in it. It wins, every time.”

Your jaw clenches. Your heart begins a warning drum in your chest. Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you fall.

Too late, you think.

The door sweeps open, and Joel beckons you forward.

“Ladies first.”

You slip by, stepping into a regal hallway. Smooth stone on either side, dark wood under your heels. All marble and mirror, classy, glassy décor. Golden spotlights which glow to life overhead, the deeper your footsteps echo.

It’s dark, and a little moody. Manly. The perfect marriage of masculine and chic. Cold steel and warm wood.

It looks like him. Classy and luxurious – but homey, warm. Everything that draws you to him, and everything that makes you want to stay.

Joel follows silently at your back, much the same as he did in his little white house. Looking to his feet when you turn back, fiddling with the strap of his watch.

You wander to the end of the hall, where the apartment widens. A towering living room – sylvan and rustic, the same muted tones bleeding through. Cityscape backdrop, pristine glass fire. A coffee table homing ornate vases and books on woodworking; a faux fur blanket over the couch and beside it, a worn flannel shirt.

You love it. You love all of it.

And loving his apartment is probably a bit of a copout, right? The easier way, the safer way to admit something much scarier. It’s just fragments of Joel, after all. It’s all the parts you’ve come to like best.

His heart, his soul. The kid with the freckles and scruffy hair, all grown up. Thrown into a big city, thrown into a big job. Thrown into a million-dollar penthouse – and still, he turns everything he touches into…home.

Joel presses his lips along your shoulder, perches his chin on your collarbone. Quiet, a little bashful – hiding from every secret he’s letting you in on just with being here.

Your eyes catch a brushed-gold frame on the sideboard, and you float over.

Faded by the sun and the years in between, there’s a peachy tint to the photo. A dreamy lilac sky, dark cedars fringing the background. A squint mailbox, cherry red with the name MILLER printed on.

Two boys, one as filthy as the other. Matching denim shorts and lanky limbs. Smeared with paint, in the midst of a brawl which nearly blurs their figures into nothing more than one head of dark hair, the other sandy.

You’d recognize him anywhere, though. Even with his arm hooked around his little brother’s neck.

“Tommy started it,” Joel says, elbowing your side. “See that smudge on the mailbox? He pushed me headfirst into the thing.”

Your chest leaps. “Who won the fight?”

He takes the frame and dusts it with the sleeve of his jacket. “Mom did,” he replies. “Threw the camera down ‘n dragged us inside. Grounded us for a week, made us repaint the entire thing.”

“How is your mom?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Good. She’s askin’ after you.”

“She still asks about me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “’cause I still talk about you.”

It prods low in your chest. Aching, stitching itself back together thread by thread. A wound twelve years in the making, the doing and undoing of everything you ever knew. Family and love; hurt and loss.

It’s okay to lose some things, you reckon. It’s okay to let them go. To watch that beat-up Toyota tear off for the horizon. To leave that man and his ring and the promises he’ll never fulfill.

There’s someone better waiting down the line, anyway. It starts with a page of doodles; it ends with your heart in his hands.

The safest place it’s ever going to be.

You cross your arms around Joel’s neck and pull him against your body. Pull him against the wound.

“I want to go see her again, tomorrow.”

“I think she’d like that.”

“Then I want to come back here and spend the whole weekend with you.”

He swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, I want that, too.”

You kiss him softly.

“And I want you to take me to bed right now, and show me how much you love me.”

The twinkling city is the only light left on this side of the apartment.

Half-drunk in a half-dim room, you stumble in backwards – tripping over thin air and collapsing onto the bed, pulling the six-foot shadow of your ex-boss-now-something on top.

The laughter rumbles from Joel’s chest. “I’m too old for this, pretty girl,” he says, sucking a mark into your neck.

“No big deal,” you titter, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll keep you going.”

He hovers over you, watching as you peel the clothes from his body. The heavy clink of his belt on the floor, the ruffle of slacks down his legs. He shakes the shirt from his arms and your lips connect again in the darkness.

Hips between yours, he drags your dress from the hem up over your arms. A hungry glimpse, tongue dabbing at the corner of his mouth – like it’s Monday morning all over again, and you’re on your knees in front of him for the first time.

Back when flirting was as harmless as delivering coffee and running errands. Back when he was one third of a fuck, marry, kill debate with Martha and Deb. Back when neither of you knew these versions of yourselves even existed.

Joel lowers – taking your nipple in his mouth.

“Shit,” you pant, fingers searching for the elastic around his waist.

He helps you tug his boxers off. His cock sways between his legs, smatter of come and damp saliva across your stomach as he guides you up the mattress. He takes the lace from your hips in his fist and rids you of it in quick motion.

“See what you do to your daddy?” he asks, tapping the weight of his cock against your mound.

You reach down, wrapping your fingers around him. He’s stubbornly solid again – throbbing under your touch. He shudders when you swipe a gentle thumb over his tip.

“Already came once ‘n you got him hard all over again,” Joel adds.

You take your lip under your teeth, stroking his cock. Your clit flutters at the thought of him pushing in. The stretch that feels so impossible, the punch of pain each time he reaches the end of your pussy.

It steals a sob from your lips. “I wanna ride you, Daddy,” you sputter, a solid shove on his shoulders.

He rolls onto his back, hands finding your hips as you mount his waist.

“Let me ride you,” you’re panting, lowering onto the dense muscle of his stomach. Quickly coating the trail of pubic hair with a pearly sheen. You rock back and forth, taking the stalk of him in one small hand.

“Let me ride – just wanna ride –”

“Alright, alright,” Joel hastens, sitting upright. He slips an arm around your back.

You whine. “You never let me, Daddy, I just wanna –”

“Shh,” he holds your jaw, “I’m gonna let you. I’m gonna let you, baby. Just gotta go slow, alright? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it,” you tell him, hands on your hips.

“I know,” Joel replies, “I know you can. Always do, huh?”

He slides his tip through your core, teasing your entrance. So wide that you can already feel your little hole struggling with just his head. He’s covered in you – your slick blending with his, your breath swapping.

“Three weeks, angel,” he fusses, beginning to edge you down. “Too goddamn long,” he adds, “You know how much I missed this pretty cunt?”

Your pussy sucks his length in, blooming for him. Warm and snug, spongey walls pinching every inch as he penetrates her. Like they’re made for each other, the same way you and Joel are.

“She missed you more,” you gasp, head tilted back to the ceiling. “I missed you more.”

Joel’s teeth pluck at the column of your throat, still raw from the memory of his dick. “Doing so good for me,” he hums, “Little more, okay?”

You collapse forward, boneless and weeping against his chest. The pain and the pleasure hammering through your veins – Joel’s thunder and your lightning. Every nerve on fire, every hair on your body standing to attention.

He holds you steady, hands still locked around your waist, cock still filling you up inch by inch. When your clit reaches the coarse hair at his base, Joel kisses from your chest up to your jaw.

“You feel that, baby?” he asks, two fingers lifting your chin. “Feel Daddy inside you? All of him, darlin’, you got all of him in there.”

You wiggle in his lap, hips aching with the effort of holding his full length. “So big, Daddy.”

Joel tenses, teeth gritting. “I ain’t gonna last long,” he admits, grip firm on your hips.

“That’s okay, baby,” you coo, nudging him back into the mattress. His cock slips from your slit, drizzled with slick. You feel so empty without him – electricity fizzling into nothing, walls clamping around nothing.

You brace yourself over his torso – reaching between your legs to guide him back to your entrance.

Beneath hooded lids, heavy with lust, Joel watches as you drag his tip through your folds. He presses his thumb to your clit, rough circles around the swollen hood, and parts your lips with his fingers.

His cock lines up, and you sink down.

“Christ, darlin’,” Joel groans. He flicks at your clit, his other hand coming up to pinch your nipple.

“I – Fuck,” you moan, bouncing on him. “Feels so – good, Daddy, I –”

You fall forward into the headboard – staying upright only with your fingers locked around the wood. You’re slipping, already barreling your way towards another orgasm.

You grind forward, rutting into Joel’s palm, falling back on his cock. Your spine curls; hands drop to claw at his chest, ground yourself there.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. It’s not like this, it’s never like this. No one has ever fucked you this good, this rough and this loving.

Joel’s balls slap against your ass. He bucks his hips, knees lifting to bump you forward.

“Attagirl,” he says, slipping a hand around your neck. He brings you down, nips at your lower lip. His forehead slides against yours. “Can feel you closing, darlin’,” he chuckles, “You gonna come for me?”

“D-dick,” you hiss.

He smirks. “Always look so pretty when you let go. You don’t wanna show Daddy how pretty you are?”

You writhe over him, biting down hard on your climax.

“My beautiful girl,” Joel murmurs in your ear. “Come for Daddy.”

And it throws you under.

Blinding, deafening. Every nerve in your body overcome, each one flipped to feel only Joel. His cock, buried deep inside, your walls clamped around him; his teeth on your skin, tongue soothing the scrape.

It’s never like this.

Never so euphoric, never such a perfect meld of bruise and bliss. The feeling of your body changing, altering down to the very last atom – blossoming anew. Fresher, purer, lovelier.

When you come back around, you’re on your back.

Legs wrapped around Joel’s waist; arms linked around his neck. He must’ve flipped you, the second you came.

He slips back inside, suckling on the skin beneath your ear, and drives his hips into yours. Ignores your yelps, your short breaths – just fucks into you like you’ll be gone in the morning.

Fucks into you like he’ll never get to do it again. Like he hasn’t been doing it for weeks. He fucks you so hard that it hurts; an ache already burning that you know you’ll still feel walking into work on Monday.

“Good girl,” he chants, over and over. “Daddy’s girl.”

Like a fever come over him – beads of sweat dotting his skin, flush in his cheeks. He fucks you mindless, senseless, wordless. Sobbing beneath him, each word soaking into the next.

Good girl. Good girl. Daddy’s girl, that’s it. Daddy loves you so much, baby. Gonna fill this little cunt up so good.

When your walls pull tight again, your third orgasm flooding from every pore in your body – Joel’s movements halt.

He comes with a painful jolt – his cock shunting into you once, twice, until he’s pumping you full of his come. Twitching deep within you, pulsing warm and messy inside your pussy.

He comes with a sound like song. Your name, entangled in a throaty groan – lips tucked somewhere between your neck and shoulder.

You finally hear it – for the first time in your life.

How it’s supposed to sound: low like thunder, Texan in its swing. No one else, you realize, has ever gotten it right – this right – before. As if only his lips were meant to speak it, his tongue designed to carve around the letters. His vocal cords strung to send the sound to your ears.

It’s his, you decide. Your name – and every other piece of you. All of you. It all belongs to him, now.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, one hand on the headboard to steady himself. He lets it rain down over you: “I love you so much, you know that?”

“Come here,” you whisper, and he falls into your body, “Come love me forever.”

Half-conscious and full bliss, you laze in Joel’s bed – all fucking night.

Strong arms hooked around your shoulders, heart to heart. Breath shared, whispering nothings and everythings in the space between your lips. He’s still buried deep inside, still tucked between your legs.

Bundled in satin sheets, kept warm by his body around yours. Talking shit, poking fun, flirting and fucking around. You play with his hands, sizing your open palm against his. You compare the scars and scrapes on your skin, spill the bloody story behind each one.

“Alright, big girl,” Joel yawns, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m beat. You killed me.”

You snuggle under his chin. “Get some sleep, old man.”

He takes a second to respond. He’s already going. This is probably the closest he’s been to actually sleeping for a good three weeks.

“Love you,” he exhales then, like the thought just lapped past his lips again.

You smile. Take his big hands in yours and lift them closer to your chest, tuck your chin over your interlocked fingers.

Something deep inside you lurches. Tries to escape. You tighten Joel’s grip, as if choking the words on their way up.

Joel’s breathing slowly begins to draw out – tiny sighs passing his lips. Your thumbs trace the short hair between his nose and top lip, combing it, nail ghosting over the lines on his lips.

A warm feeling floods through your body. Suddenly – it starts in your chest and washes over in waves, dousing you and the world around you in a dreamy rose. Like a sunset paints its way across the walls, the glint of gold where the light catches on the tower in the distance.

Peace, you think.

Only – there’s no end to it. No sleek black car to drag you away. No broken promises and half-truths. The ache in your chest pulls gently – a reminder, no longer a threat.

This will never leave. He won’t let it. It’s as safe as you are, now, wrapped in his arms. Nothing and no one to break you apart.

“Joel?” you whisper.

His eyelashes flutter, like even asleep he knows it’s something worth hearing. Like everything you could possibly say – What should we have for breakfast? My foot itches. Did you know Martha box dyes her hair? – it’s all worth hearing.

You gulp. “Joel, I wanna – I wanna tell you something.”

He crackles to life, words melting into one another. “…What is it…darlin’…?”

Your lips morph around voiceless words. Your tongue lifts to the back of your teeth, trying to force the sound out.

It’s everything, you think. You’re everything. Say it. Say it say it say it.

But he’s already dropping off again. He’s already being swept away somewhere you’re too tense to reach. And you’re not brave enough to push through the fog on your own, stick a trembling hand into the unknown and swipe for his.

So you let it go. Watch the words float off somewhere Joel can’t hear them.

You shrink yourself, slotting your head beneath his jaw, your cheek to his chest. He sighs into the crown of your head. His heartbeat thuds a familiar bassline into your ear. Hi, old friend. I missed you.

Maybe in the morning, you can swing by your place and grab a bag. Pack a few days’ worth of clothes, spend the first few mornings of your new career drinking velvety coffee in bed next to Joel. Sharing the mug, sharing the newspaper, sharing the shower when it’s time to get up.

Maybe you should call Martha, and apologize for skipping your party. She can fill you in on the night – the drunken dramas, the secrets spilled. She won’t ask about you and Joel – she’ll just know. And that’s enough.

Maybe you’ll throw the phone to the end of the bed after you hang up, discarded amongst the tangle of sheets, and lie back down next to a still sleeping Joel. Lay your head on his chest, like it is right now. Listen to his heartbeat, run your fingers across the dark hair.

And maybe you’ll think over the same three words currently racing through your head. Maybe you’ll try to piece together a sentence for him to hear, when you’re ready to say it out loud.

Maybe by morning, you’ll be brave enough to admit it to yourself, first.

That…yeah.

You love him.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #fic: sex on fire

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whxtedreams · 1 month

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In pain and heartache. In comfort and love.

A Jackson!Joel x f!reader oneshot

Summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: Jackson!joel, mentions of ellie and her AMAZING puns, Tommy providing comfort, pain, heartache, fear, anxiety, love, apologies, kissing, desperation. reader has she/her pronouns as i write in third person POV, reader has hair Joel can play with, reader has no other descriptions- photos for aesthetic purpose only.

Main masterlist

With pain and heartache, she watched him live without her.

Her eyes watched every move he made. Every step he took. Every smile he blessed those around him with.

It was an aching reminder of what could have been. The weight of their unresolved past seemed only visible to her. Every breath she took a battle in the heaviness in her chest.

She longed to reach out, to bridge that gap between them she did not realize had begun to form until it was too late.

But the fear of making what little they had left worse held her back. So, she stood in silent agony, her heart breaking as she watched Joel from across the bar.

Tommy had found his way to her, a smile of sympathy and drink in hand. His eyes filled with sadness and understanding, a silent acknowledgment to the suffering.

He knew, after all. Knew how prone his brother was at breaking those he cared for. Tommy had been broken too.

He held the drink out to her. “Thought you could use this,” he said softly. His voice was gentle like a comforting embrace.

Her eyes slowly pulled away from Joel as she accepted the drink. She watched the liquid within swirl around in the glass and she found herself hypnotized by its movement. The memory of Joel's drunken state when he pushed her away resurfaced, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The sight of the drink in her hand now felt like a cruel reminder of his harsh rejection.

“He’ll come around, always does,” Tommy said, his hand gently placed on her shoulder.

The words were meant to comfort her, but they felt hollow and insincere. She knew the truth, deep down. This time it felt different, a finality to Joel’s actions.

His absence stung, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. She forced a small nod, struggling to feign optimism. "He said he could never love me." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Tommy sighed. His hand fell from her shoulder. He cast a glance at Joel, then back at her, conflict and concern etched across his face.

Her eyes trailed back to Joel, drawn by Tommy's gaze. There he was, laughing heartily at Ellie, her pun book in hand as she hunched over in laughter.

The sight of him happy and carefree, the sound of his laughter filling the air, made her heart ache. She tried to hold back the pain, to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help but yearn for the past.

"He's scared of losing you," Tommy said.

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing the silent weight that rested on her shoulders. She knew he was right, that fear had been a driving force behind Joel's actions. But it didn't make it any easier to bear the hurt and disappointment his fear had caused. She nodded silently, her gaze fixed on Joel and Ellie, their joyful exchange a bittersweet contrast to her own internal turmoil.

Her eyes left Joel and locked onto Tommy's. "If he's so scared of losing me, then why did he push me away?" she asked, her voice quivered as tears threatened to escape her eyes. The desperation and confusion in her voice hung in the air, seeking an answer that she knew might never come.

Tommy's expression softened as he looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

"He's lost a lot, I suppose he'd rather push you away on his terms than let fate do it for him.”

The pain of Joel’s past losses echoed through her mind. She knew the weight of his pain had shaped him, had forced him to build walls around himself. He'd rather sever ties than risk the hurt of losing someone he let himself love, even if it meant losing them in the process.

Her eyes slowly returned to Joel and as their gazes locked, she saw the intensity in his eyes. It was clear he had been watching her, their gazes drawn to each other like magnets. There was something different in his eyes, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She held his gaze for a moment, questioning the thoughts and emotions that flickered across his face.

Did he regret it? she thought, her mind filled with uncertainty. Did he miss her like she missed him?

Did he still lie in bed, reaching for her in the early hours of the morning? Like he had on those nights under the stars during their journey to Jackson.

Did he still clench his fists by his side or fidget with the watch on his wrist when he didn't know what to say? Did he miss her taking his hand in hers to distract him?

Did he wish that he loved her?

Or did he regret it all?

"It might not seem like it anymore, but he cares for you," Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I saw it when he carried you in, see it now." She turned to him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but there was none.

Only honesty and concern reflected on her.

Her gaze returned to Joel, drawn by his movement as he stood from the table.

His eyes were on her, only her.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration as she handed the glass back to Tommy. Ignoring his call for her, she turned and walked out of the bar, desperately needing some fresh air and space to collect her thoughts.

The night air hit her as she stepped outside, cold and crisp, and it provided a respite from the oppressive atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart and tumultuous emotions.

Oh fuck, she thought. She fucking missed him.

And as if her heart seemed to call for him, she heard the door open once more. She turned to see Joel step out, the soft light of the moon bathing them in a silvery glow. It was as if the night itself tried to bring them together.

She looked at him from behind watery eyes, her emotions threatening to overflow. In turn, he watched her with eyes that mirrored her own pain, a reflection of the suffering that had come between them. They stood there under the night sky, silent and yet speaking volumes, each knowing the depth of the other's heartache.

Only difference was, he had caused all of this.

The unfairness of it all, the weight of the isolation and pain he had inflicted upon her, pressed down on her like his own heavy hand. He stood there, the cause of her heartache, while she endured his consequences alone. The anger and anguish in her heart flared, but it couldn't overpower the deep love and longing she still carried within her.

Joel didn't utter a word, and she didn't expect him to. Instead, he closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight embrace. His hand rested on her head, his touch gentle and comforting as he cradled her against his chest. His nose to her hair. Her hands trembled as they clutched onto the fabric of his jacket, holding him tightly, as if she was afraid he might disappear.

He pulled back slightly and lifted her face gently. His fingers traced her cheek as if his touch would break her. Their gaze met, and she saw the well of pain reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper that hung in the night like a fragile thread.

From anyone else, the apology may have felt hollow, meaningless. But from Joel's lips, it held a weight and significance that she understood. For an apology from him was rare and precious, like discovering clean, fresh water in the middle of a vast wasteland. The impact of his words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within her heart. She could feel the significance of each syllable, was a lifeline in her sea of despair. A flicker of hope in the darkness that had enveloped her heart.

"I should never have told you to leave." He spoke again, his voice choked with emotion, his eyes never left hers.

The words hung heavily in the air, a confession of regret that cut deep. A single tear slipped down his face, a testament to the depth of his remorse. It was a crack in the stoic facade he often wore, a glimpse into the depths of his own hurt and guilt.

She had never seen him cry.

The tear, a crystalline droplet that glistened on his cheek.

"Why did you push me away, then? As if I never meant anything to you," she said, her heart shattered by his own hands.

Joel shut his eyes, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm on her face. His other hand clenched tightly at the fabric of her waist, while the one holding her face remained gentle and tender, a stark contrast to his tense grip.

His voice trembled as he spoke, each word laden with truth. "I'm so scared I'll let you in, only for you to die on me," he confessed. "I can't lose you too."

His fingers trembled against her skin. She reached up and gently took his hand in hers, bringing it to rest over her heart. It beat a steady rhythm under his palm, a silent reassurance that she was there, alive and breathing.

“You are losing me Joel.”

Joel opened his eyes, so full of pain as he took in her words.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was a mere whisper against her lips. And then, a breathless moment.

His lips delicately touched hers, a whisper-soft kiss filled with tenderness and vulnerability, as fragile as a butterfly's wing. It was as if he were afraid to press too hard, to cause her any more harm than he already had.

As quick as it began, it was over. He pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before he tucked her head back into his chest. His fingers played with her hair as he looked up at the starry night sky and she could feel his body relaxing as he held her close.

"If the Lord gave me another chance, I would go back and make things right," he said as his heartbeat quickened beneath her ear. Her hand found its way to his chest as it laid over his heart soothingly, if only to calm the anxiety that had taken root within him.

"All I do is miss you. I can’t sleep, can’t eat. I was so stupid to push you away," he confessed, his chest shuddered with a soft sob. She pulled back slightly, only to witness a torrent of tears streaming down his face. The single tear had multiplied as it turned to a river of sorrow that spoke louder than any words could.

She gently wiped the tears from his face as her own fell silently in tandem.

His bottom lip trembled, and without a second thought, she did what came naturally to her. Her lips found his in a tender kiss and she could feel the tension in him slowly melt away as he released a shuddering breath.

His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. He poured months of pent-up emotions into the kiss, a mix of regret, yearning, and a love so powerful it threatened to consume them both. Teeth scrapped against teeth, a primal collision of passion and desperation. It was a moment of intense connection, a release of the feelings that had been locked away for far too long.

Her back shoved against the hard surface of the wall. His hands roamed over her body in a desperate attempt to re-familiarize himself with every contour, every dip and curve. It was as if he was trying to memorize her all over again, as if he were afraid she would disappear from his grasp once more.

The pain she had carried with her began to fade away under the onslaught of his lips against hers, his touch hungry and urgent. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fingers clenching the fabric tightly as if she was afraid to let go. Afraid that if she did, he too would slip through her grasp once more.

Their mouths explored each other fiercely, the taste, the feel, the essence of each other an intoxicating drug that they had been deprived of for too long.

So desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

The sound of the bar doors opening shattered the intimate bubble that had enveloped them. Noise spilled into the night air from inside as they hastily tore themselves away from each other. Their gazes locked with Tommy's as he stood frozen in the doorway, surprise etched across his face.

Tommy's eyes flicked down to where Joel's thigh had found its way between hers. "Jesus Christ, can you two make up somewhere else?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Joel's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he chuckled, out of breath. His calloused hands held her face tenderly; the rough pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks. He looked down at her with tenderness and amusement, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Tommy mumbled under his breath as he walked back inside.

“What do you say, come home?” he asked. A hint of hopefulness in his voice, tempered by the fear that shone in his eyes.

“Do you love me?” She asked.

“I want to try.” He said without a beat.

“I think I can live with that.”

The night was quiet, the silence only broken by the soft whisper of the wind as it blew in through the open window. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of the stars outside, their light danced through the gaps in the curtain that fluttered in the breeze.

Joel's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his body wrapped tightly around hers. He inhaled deeply; his breath warm against her neck. His arms encircled her, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid to let go. He was seeking comfort in her presence, finding solace in her warmth and familiarity.

She was too afraid to sleep. Worried that when she woke, he would be gone once more.

As the first light of day crept through the window, her eyes slowly opened and she expected to find an empty space beside her. However, his grip on her remained firm as he pulled her closer into his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he slept peacefully, forever reaching for her. A wave of relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She made a silent vow to herself as she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. No matter how far he tried to push her away, no matter how much pain spilled from him and to her, she would never let go of him again. She would fight, crawl, and struggle with every ounce of her being to get back to him.

With comfort and love, she watched him sleep by her.

Notes

this was meant to be around 0.5k but it just kept going??? also Flora writes about kissing as someone who’s never been kissed so as always, take it with a grain of salt as i have no idea what i’m talking about lol - should honestly be a warning itself had a yucky day so here's some hurt & comfort also the starting line and ending line match and im proud of that lol.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #tommy miller #tlou tommy

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scootkiddo · 2 years

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it shouldn’t be glossed over just how empathetic Joel is. he expressed empathy towards Ellie given her dire case of being a child within the confines of a cruel, unforgiving-apocalyptic world that supplants what should have been a habitual childhood for her. he offered an apology for scolding Henry and calling him a rat without initially reconciling the benign intentions behind his actions. he pleaded for the elderly sniper on the outskirts of kansas city to put down the rifle so he didn’t have to kill him. it all accentuates just how against his nature he must be to survive in this world. he can’t always spare people, he can’t always shed sympathy. but he wishes he could, and even on occasion tries. it’s the very context he once stooped to the level of the hunters in his past that makes this point pang all the more. he isn’t apathetic. he isn’t exclusively selfish. he isn’t rigid. he is open-ended. Joel is more than a hammer that sees all problems as a nail to be forcefully struck without finesse. He values compassion and preserving life, and any ultimatum that cements the opposite only elicits a last resort of violence and numbness. the silver lining is more desirable than conforming to cruelty

#thinking about this makes me realize how much the firefly hospital is going to mess me up #joel isn’t sadistic there’s no sick pleasure in killing or demeaning people #he cares so so very much #he wants life to thrive and he is willing to accept when he’s wrong #god this iteration of joel makes me wanna chug down wet cement #drives me stir crazy he really does #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo spoilers #tlou spoilers #joel miler #pedro pascal #ellie williams #bella ramsey

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toxicanonymity · 4 months

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hi there!! i love your fics and I had a little short one shot for raider!joel, what if he had walked in on sweet pea crying/breaking down because she had a horrible day? Would he brush it off, be really concerned, or blame it on someone and kinda take them out? ty, have a wonderful rest of your day 🫶🏻

Raider when you're crying in bed

He hears you sniffle, and when he comes in, you try to dry your eyes before looking up at him. Meanwhile, he has a physiological reaction - chest puffed, breathing faster, visible pulse in his neck vein. He can't help that. But he can study you quietly for a few seconds trying to understand. Then he sits down and lays a hand on your head. "Somethin' happen?"

You shake your head no. He sits there for a moment and rubs your back, calming himself down. Then he stands up and walks across the room and you bury your head in the pillow silently crying, thinking he's going back outside. But he just closes the window curtain, slips his boots off, then goes around to the other side of the bed and gets in with all his clothes on, under the covers with you. "C'mere," he mumbles deeply as he scoots toward you. You roll over toward him, and he wraps you in a hug and puts his leg over you. And you dry your eyes on his shirt. He just holds you and gradually feels your breathing become calmer. So his does, too. And eventually, he starts lightly snoring, which makes you giggle.

-----

So he has only three words to offer this time lol. But I think it would be similar to the compassion you see from him in hunger, couldn't sleep, and the van ride.

Thank you for the ask 🖤 I love visiting them

#tears of affirmation #joel miller x reader #raider!joel #joel miller angst #hurt/comfort #toxicanonymity ☠️

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forever-rogue · 2 years

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Joel and Reader finding an abandoned baby and Joel is conflicted, part of him wants to give it to someone else, but the other part wants to raise it with reader

AN | Okay, but I really liked this concept!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you were trekking through the woods, a tense silence between the two of you. You’d just had an argument which left neither of you feeling particularly good about what had been said. You wanted to try and settle down for a while, especially now that you had Ellie with the two of you and there was a good opportunity for you in Jackson; he was reluctant to get too comfortable in any one place. You didn’t blame him - it wasn’t easy for you either but you were willing to try.

You weren’t quite sure what to say now. All you knew was that you hated the idea that he was at you.

“Joel-”

“Shh,” he held up his arm in front of you, causing both of you to stop apparently. He held a finger to his lips as he looked around, eyes narrowed, “listen.”

You raised an eyebrow before trying to tune into what he was hearing. For a man with some hearing issues, he heard a lot more than you'd expect. Once you stilled, you heard the odd sound. Was that…crying?

"Joel?" you whispered, reaching for his wrist, "what is that?"

"I don't know," he didn't look at you but started walking to the source of the sound. His gun was at the ready as you fell into the step behind him.

He didn't stop until he was at the edge of the bushes near the clearing that had been up ahead. You swallowed thickly as he pushed through the brush, stopping as soon as he stepped into the clearing. You heard him inhale sharply as you almost tumbled after him. He easily wrapped an arm around your waist to help you up right.

He was staring at something on the ground and you followed his line of sight. You gasped just as he had as you saw the source of the sound.

A baby.

"What the…" you trailed off as you pushed past Joel to get a better look at the small pastel pink bundle.

While the poor thing was bundled up, you could see that it was a young baby, probably no more than a month or so old. Your instinct was to reach for it and pick it up, to shield it from the chill; at least it wasn't the dead of winter anymore so you had some hope that the baby would be okay.

"Stop," Joel reached out and grabbed your wrist, causing you to glare at him, "don't touch it."

"It's a baby, Joel," you snapped, "it's probably cold and hungry - someone clearly just left them there."

"It could be a set up or what if…" his mouth fell into a hard line as he shook his head. You pulled your hand out of his touch and picked up the baby, much to his chagrin.

"I'm not going to leave a baby out here," you hissed at him, clutching the small bundle to your chest, "whatever the reason they were left doesn't matter right now. And they're not infected - stop going to doomsday immediately."

"Look it over," his voice was gruff as you rolled your eyes at him. Fine. You were willing to give him that much.

You sank onto your knees as you unwrapped the bundle and looked over the baby - a little girl. She was dressed in a thin onesie that you undid so you could check her over. She had big brown eyes and wisps of hair and chubby little cheeks, "she's okay. Just cold and hungry."

“You’re not seriously thinking about taking her back with us?” his eyes hardened as you looked at him in shock. You weren’t expecting him to welcome her with open arms, but you’d expected a little more compassion. This was Joel after all; he was rough around the edges but gentle and tender hearted.

“I’m not leaving her behind,” you insisted, trying to remain as firm as you could, “no one gets left behind. That includes this innocent baby - she’ll die out here. We both know that.”

“What if someone comes back to look for her?” you both knew that was extremely unlikely, “what if they follow us?”

“Then they can come and find us and explain why they abandoned her in the first place,” you unzipped your jacket and put her inside to get her warm, zipping it just up enough so she wouldn’t be squeezed, “I’m not leaving her. That’s not negotiable. That’s not who we are, Joel.”

“Fine,” he held up his hands in mock surrender before taking a step back, “when this all turns to shit, don’t come running to me.”

“Joel.”

“Let’s get back,” he turned around without giving you another glance, “we’re already late.”

You were rooted in place as you watched him go, trying to fight back the tears that were pearling up. The baby cooed at you softly, looking at you with curious eyes which caused your heart to melt.

“It’ll be okay,” you whispered to her, “we’ll figure it all out.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn’t see much of Joel for the next couple of weeks. Which, to be quite honest, hurt a lot. You weren’t sure exactly what to call him; boyfriend felt too trivial and partner felt not enough. He was everything to you…so it cut like a knife when he made it a point to avoid you. And he couldn’t even lie about it - you’d seen him physically turn around and walk away when he’d spotted you somewhere. Several times.

So while it sucked and you missed him desperately, you were focused on the baby that you’d come to have. You weren’t exactly sure what you’d call her in relation to either - but for the time being you’d settled on the name Olivia, or Ollie for short.

Once she’d gotten checked out by one of the doctors back in Jackson, it was determined that she’d been about six weeks old and had likely been abandoned for most of the day before she was found. She was lucky that you’d stumbled across her when you did…or she might not have made it.

You still weren’t exactly what you were going to do with her, but for now, you were keeping her. You’d never had much experience with babies or toddlers before the world arrived at its current state, and you definitely hadn’t expected the first opportunity to come along now. But somehow it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be and you sort of fell into it.

You loved her, she’d won your heart from the first time you’d looked at her, and that was all that mattered.

The rest would fall into place. Hopefully.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What do you think?” you grinned at the baby swaddled to your chest as she babbled away happily, as though she understood what you were saying. You listened to her for a few moments before nodding in agreement, “you’re right. I’ll make pasta for dinner for myself and Ellie, and you’ll get a nice big bottle all to yourself.”

You couldn’t help beam at her as she smiled at you; you knew it probably wasn’t at you in particular but you liked the idea. Ellie hadn’t come by yet for dinner, but you knew she would soon; she was with you most evenings still. You felt bad for her in a way; with everything that had happened (or hadn’t rather) between you and Joel you felt like you were putting her through a divorce and forcing her to choose a side. But she didn’t view it that way…she was waiting for Joel to come to his senses. And you weren’t forcing her to pick either of you.

You heard a knock on the front door of your small, but homey, little house, causing you to pick perk up. You dumped some pasta into the water, figuring it was Ellie being polite, “come on in, Ellie Bean!”

The door opened slowly and you didn’t pay it much attention until you realized that the girl was strangely quiet for once. You set down the wooden spoon before looking over and finding that it wasn’t Ellie that had come in at all.

It was Joel.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say as you looked at him in surprise. He caught your eye and the two of you stared at each other silently for a few moments, “what are you doing here?”

His shoulder sagged in relief as he slowly made his way over to you, letting out a long sigh as he leaned against the counter. He decided that the fact that you didn’t flinch or scamper away was a good sign. The way you instinctively cradled your arm around the baby wasn’t lost on him.

“I wanted to apologize,” he managed to choke out after a few moments, only the bubbling of the water filling the silence. You raised an eyebrow at him but he didn’t say anything further.

“For what?” oh yeah. You weren’t going to let him get away with this one. He caught your eye and a frown tugged down the corners of his mouth, “hmm?”

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” despite the fact that it was hard for him to admit he was wrong, he wasn’t going to lie to you. Not to you - the best thing in his life, “the things I said and did. I shouldn’t have done it. it wasn’t right.”

“Okay,” you nodded as you stirred the pasta, fast feeling stinging and prickling at the back of your eyes. The two of you were silent as he watched you drain the pasta and set it back on the stove, finishing it off with sauce and cheese. You grabbed two bowls of the cabinet, along with utensils as you divvied up the pasta and set it down at the kitchen table. He didn’t move, surprised - and yet entirely unsurprised - by the way you didn’t hesitate to show kindness, “come on. Let’s eat…I know you probably haven’t been taking care of yourself, love.”

“Why?” he sat down across from you, pulling the warm bowl closer, his growling stomach betraying him. You knew exactly what he meant.

“Because I love you - you’re my family,” you focused your attention on the bowl so you wouldn’t immediately cry and lose it, “and you don’t just throw that away. Not even if things get a little out of sync or whatever.”

“I was scared,” he finally admitted, causing you to pause as you looked over at him, “I am scared.”

"Joel," you reached across the table for his hand and gently put yours on top of his. You gave it a reassuring squeeze before offering him a small smile, "me too. It's okay to be scared - you just have to talk to me. That's all. We'll always figure it out together, my love."

"At first it was just because of the immediate threat - what if she was infected or it was just a trap?" he leaned back in chair as you nodded at him to go on. You'd listen to him forever if he needed you to, "but that quickly turned into a lot more. It was everything."

“I’m not going to pretend like I know how you’re feeling or what you’re doing through,” you whispered sweetly, causing him to nod, “but I do know that I love you and I want to be there for you no matter what. I want to help - if you’ll let me.”

“I want you,” he swallowed thickly, “I…I want to tell you everything.”

“Then please do. It doesn't have to be tonight or even all at once,” you promised, “however you want to. Okay?”

“Okay,” you offered him a small smile that he returned. He felt like he hadn’t smiled in weeks.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, the only sounds filling the room were forks hitting the ceramic bowls and the occasional sound from Ollie. She'd fallen asleep, probably lulled to slumber from your movements. You weren't lost on the way Joel's eyes kept drifting back to her.

Once you'd finished eating, you put everything in the sink, unsure of what to say next. Joel filled in the gap.

"Can I hold her?"

Your mouth formed a small o in surprise as you tried to see if he was being serious. You hadn't quite expected that. After a moment of contemplating, you nodded and slowly started to unbundle the sleeping baby from your chest. Ollie didn't wake up, only making a few small sounds instead.

Joel took her gingerly from your arms, holding her in his own and cradled her to his chest. He was experienced - practiced - even though it had been a long time.

You could see the emotions fighting on his features as he trailed a finger over her chubby cheek. You didn't want to interrupt the moment and instead sat back down.

"She's beautiful," he whispered softly, "she reminds me a little of…Sarah. She had these chubby cheeks too and just a mop of dark brown hair. I was so scared when she was born, so scared that I would fuck it all up. But then I took one look at her and it just kinda all made sense. I fell in love with her."

"I can't even imagine the stress and the excitement," it wasn't often that he brought up his daughter, you knew it was hard for him…the pain he must have gone through was unfathomable. The fact that he trusted you with this resonated within your heart, "everything all at once."

"Yeah," he let out a small sound, "it felt like it happened all over again when my wife left. I was so angry and mad but then I realized I couldn't do that - I had my baby girl to take care of. And it ended up being us, just us, until…she died."

"Joel-"

"Let me say it," he insisted, his voice thick with tears, "I have to say it at some point. It'll never be easy, but it's the truth. And Sarah will always be my baby."

"Always."

"When we found her," he looked down and inhaled sharply, "I got mad. Mad that someone had this child and then just felt her to die. Scared that something was wrong with her…scared that would happen. That if we took her I would cause something to happen to her. That she would end up with the same fate as Sarah...or Sam or Henry.”

"That wasn't your fault," tears had rolled down your cheeks by this point and you wanted to do nothing but hold him, "it was never your fault."

"I know…but it took myself a long time to accept that," he confessed, "I've been thinking a lot about it lately…about her."

Ollie opened her big brown eyes as she blinked at him before smiling happily. Joel returned the smile, gently bouncing her so she couldn't become upset.

"I've been thinking a lot about Ellie too," he caught your eye and he noticed how your face lit up at the mention of the young girl, "how I was so reluctant to let her in at first. But she managed to do it, just like you did, and she's family. Even if I don't tell her, I hope she knows I love her like she was my own."

"Trust me," you laughed lightly, "she knows."

"I love you," he caught you so off guard that you just looked at him, opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water. You knew he loved you - that had never been once been something you questioned. But he’d never said three little words out loud either, “I’m sorry I haven’t said it. But I-I hope that…you know.”

“I know,” your lips formed a pretty pout that he wanted to kiss away as you nodded at him, “I know, Joel. I love you too.”

“I’m sorry,” he cleared his throat and you shook your head, “I shouldn’t have treated you like I did. I thought that maybe…maybe avoiding the situation might make it go away.”

“And just how often does that work?” there was a teasing lilt to your voice that caused him to chuckled softly.

“I know, Instead all I did was manage to push you away,” he leaned back and sighed, “you didn’t deserve that.”

“I missed you,” it was a gentle confession that made his heart swell, “I was trying to figure out how to approach you…you beat me to it.”

“It was just getting my head on straight,” he paused for a moment and let out a huff of amusement, “and Ellie helped. Girl wouldn’t leave me alone, but she was right.”

“She often is….but don’t tell her that, lest it get in her head.”

“I’ve learned that much,” the two of you shared shy smiles that turned into a bit of tender laughter. The man in question watched you with a reverent gaze that made you want to melt into a puddle, “what did you decide to call her?”

“Olivia,” you grinned, “more commonly known as Ollie.”

“I like it,” he looked down at Olivia called Ollie and felt his heart constrict. She was already back asleep, “what are…what do you want to do with her?”

“Ahhh, yeah,” you shrugged, “that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? I don’t know. I wish I did but…. It’s hard.”

“Tell me,” he softly encouraged you.

“I’ve never had a kid before let alone a baby,” you stated, which he already knew, “I feel like I have no clue what I’m doing and don’t want to mess anything up. I want her to have all the best things. But at the same time…I don’t want to let her go. I’ve already grown pretty fond of her.”

“I think you’ve done a great job so far,” he insisted and you felt shy under his gaze, “there’s no manual for this - especially not in his world - you just learn. You fuck it up, but you learn and move on. What matters most is…”

“Love,” you finished for as he caught your eye and nodded, “but Joel…what about…fuck, I hate sounding so pathetic, but what us? I don’t want to lose you or have you feel like you need to be here because of her or have you not want to be here because of her.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you knew from the look in his eye that he wasn’t kidding, “no matter what happens. I’m scared of all of this too, but I’m willing to try. If you want me to get on my knees and beg you for forgiveness, I will, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” he looked down at Ollie before back at you, “let’s be scared together. I think we’ll figure it out. What do you say, sweetheart?”

“Okay,” you laughed through the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, brushing them away with the back of your hand, “okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” you really liked the sound of that, “we’ll get through it all.”

Before you could say anything else, the door almost slammed open as Ellie barged in, “hello family! What’s new?”

You looked at Joel, who let out a signature dramatic sigh, before both of you looked at Ellie.

“A lot,” Joel couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed and you knew that Ellie already knew Ellie what had happened, “come and sit down, kid.”

“About time,” she helped herself to food, “you’re meant to be together - took you long to figure that out!”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

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divaofmads · 28 days

Text

MOB WIFE | JOEL MILLER

☠️It is inspired by an Italian mafia who turns into a mafia boss when a woman enters his life while he was a physics teacher.☠️

I'm not someone who has a mafia fetish, but I definitely have a fetish for imagining Joel Miller as a mafia or a teacher. ^^

☠️WARNINGS: ‼️18+ only‼️, Age Gap (early 20s/ late 30s), oral for male and female, bdsm, punishment, No Y/N, Betraying, Daddy Kink, Some Getting Harm, female reader, Joel turns very Creepy and Dark, Rough Sex, lovers to enimies, Sexual Violence, Crime, Blood, Murder, No Orgasm for you, Slang!, Language!!!

Note: I am an amateur for all these and apologize for any mistakes I made as English is not my native language.

Word: 15k+

~ Don't get inspired, just read and enjoy ~

Before becoming a mafia member, Joel was an academic in the thermodynamic department. He had a peaceful life. The only problem was the difficulty of the course he taught. Most of the time he would write questions on the board and no one would understand them. And those who thought they understood topics could not perform well in the exams. Luckily, you were there. You had an insatiable interest in chemistry and physics since high school. It was only natural that you would shine in this course, which was a mixture of the two subjects. For the past forty minutes, you would discuss topics one-on-one as if it were just the two of you in the class. You would go to his office after class and even though he had a lot of work to do, he would always make time for you. Sometimes, while discussing the effect of entropy on life, you learned details from your own lives, which brought you closer. Joel looked into your eyes like no one else had ever looked in. His eyes contained love, compassion, and happiness. As you realized his interest in you, regret, sadness and love appeared in your eyes. Because you hid your family. Everyone thought your last name was completely coincidental. You were a big liar and the consequences for that lie would be disaster for both of you.

After class ended, if your departure times were the same, you went to the front of the building where his office was located and waited for him. Although he was surprised to see you at first, after he got used to it, he would walk out the door with a smile. He had his laptop bag in one hand, his jacket draped over the finger of his other hand and placed it over his shoulder, your engineering books between your body and your arms, you were walking slowly down the tree-lined path. Even though you were brave, you were too shy to talk. He would say the first word to start a conversation. Sometimes, you got nervous when it came to your family. You had to lie. Your mother was a housewife, your father was a taxi driver. Since your financial situation was below average, you worked a part-time job. You couldn't leave your family. Despite everything, you had a happy family. While all these lies were coming out of your lips, the fact that your father killed your mother was harassing you. You felt trapped between all these lies and truths. Your face was down, emotions showing on your face. Joel, misunderstanding the reason for your discomfort, wrapped his arm around your shoulder and made suggestions to you.

But now you've changed a lot. You were not interested in the lesson anymore. Even though you seemed to be watching the board with your elbows on the table and your head supported by your hand, you were startled when Joel asked you a question.

It was another day when you weren't paying attention to class. Because there was a boy on your mind. He was obsessed with you and he knew who you were. He knew who you were in love with. If you didn't go out with him, he would tell everyone who you really were. All your lies would come out and Joel would hate you. Your friends would stop seeing you or anyone who wanted to take advantage of your power would become your friend. In fact, the boy's father was using him. They were rich and wanted to strengthen their company by taking support of you which is the member of respectable mafia family.

You frowned as you looked at the second law of thermodynamics written on the board, thinking about what the boy had told you. Entropy is the thermal energy term that best describes life and death. While this topic should interest you, your gaze is actually proof that you are not in class, and your flinching and stuttering whenever he asks you a question was really getting on Joel's nerves. He was aware that your capacity was not ordinary like others. He was also aware that if he worked on you at this young age, you could be one of the good scientists of the future. What happened to you? He had to find out.

"I want you to leave the classroom." Joel said while writing a question on the board. At first, no one understood. Everyone was looking at him with blank stares. The chatty student in the class asked him who he was talking about. Pedro turned his body towards the students and looked at you. The others followed the lecturer's eyes. You were ashamed. You didn't deserve what Joel did to you. You could have defended yourself, but you didn't. Besides, you had more important things on your mind than thinking about these things. You were angry with him, you were hurt. You unzipped your bag and stuffed everything on the table inside. Your movements were loud. You were stepping on your heels hard as you left the classroom.

Joel called you. “Come to my office after class!”

Everyone was surprised at how the topic had come to be and how it had trapped you in its center.

You wanted to get out of the building and run as far as you could. There were plenty of places on campus where you could hide. You had gotten tired of crying over time. You were wiping your eyes with the backs of your fingers when you saw a beautiful cat watching you. You sniffed and looked at the cat. Had the goddess Bastet come? This nobility inspired you. You picked up your bag and took out your little sketchbook. You hadn’t picked up a pen in a long time to express your art. Your creative spirit had finally come out of the cell it had been locked up in for a stupid young man. The cat had long gone from you, but who cared? You had seen that cat with your mind, not with your eyes. The cat with black and cinnamon fur looking at you haughtily, was dancing in your notebook, searching for happiness in the thorny arms of gloom.

"Painting is another way of keeping a journal." He said. You knew who the voice belonged to.

So you responded without looking up. "Pablo Picasso."

When you saw him sit next to you, you compromised your comfortable position and show respect to your lecturer, despite what he did to you.

He asked without looking at your face. "Why didn't you come to me after class?"

"If I had go to office of someone who wronged me early, I might have said things I would regret later." you replied.

Joel was amazed by your sincere response. You had brought up the subject that bothered you without breaking the barrier of respect. It was a sensible, intelligent response for a twenty-one year old girl.

"Is it unfair that I am angry because you no longer pay attention to class, ignore the lessons, and lower your grades?"

You replied with a sad look. "I'm not special to you anymore, am I? I'm not different."

Joel looked at you. “Do you think I feel that way about you?”

He took the sketchbook from your hand and waved it in the air. "Who else could do this besides you?And I haven't seen that notebook on your desk in months."

He didn't answer your question. He really kept an eye on you all the time. While you were chatting with your friends in the cafeteria, while you were doing research in the library.

You pressed your lips together shyly and looked down. “I haven’t felt this cared for in a long time. Thank you, Mr. Miller.” It was your first smile after class.

"You don't have to date a guy like Bill in order to love yourself. Don't be fooled by his popularity. He's nothing. And neither are those who follow him."

You were very surprised. He had misunderstood your closeness with Bill, but he knew about you.

"I wish I could make you aware of yourself," he said with meaningful looks. "Then you would understand who you really belong to." You didn't know why, but you felt strange.

You stammered, "Thank you for this nice conversation, Mr. Miller," and stood up. "See you on Wednesday."

You felt his eyes still on you as you walked away. You couldn't see, but you knew. It was exciting. Maybe it was just the typical young woman erotomania you had in mind.

He gave you strength and you no longer cared about what Bill told you. Joel cared about you. Of course, as a mature man, he would see through the lies you told and support you.

You were as active as ever in Mr. Miller's classes. You asked questions and talked about the subject you had researched the day before. While you usually avoided classes, you now listened to the lesson alone, ignoring Bill.

By the time Joel put a question mark at the end of the equation he wrote on the board, you had already solved it and were shouting the answer with excitement. He turned to you and smiled with satisfaction,

"Not bad at all, well done," he said, making you proud among the other students.

But your disregard for him was starting to get on Bill's nerves. He wanted to have fun with you and make love. To satisfy his sexual desires. You were the most attractive girl in school and he had already made you his own. You were the chosen one for him. You should have been grateful to him and done everything he said as if you wanted to please your king.

One day Joel was sitting in his office checking the exams. He wasn't happy with any of them. The highest grade was DD and when he saw that he was about to cry with happiness(!) Of course your paper was at the top of the list. Although he was hoping for an A+, he was also very happy that you got a B+. It really gave him hope that you were starting to get back to your old self. But not everyone thought like him. He heard shouting from the window. A girl and a boy were getting into a verbal fight. And the girl's voice was familiar. He got up from his chair and went to the window. How upset he was to see you fighting with Bill! That young dude was in a relationship she didn't deserve.

The more you tried to fix things with Bill, the more he scolded you, thinking he was the worst. He was practically forcing you to do something. You were begging him, but he wasn't listening. If you didn't do what he said, it would be bad for you. The other students around were looking at you with question marks and astonishment. Joel couldn't stand the injustice you were doing to yourself, so he clenched his teeth and fists. He could go downstairs and make him regret the day he was born after taking him away from you. He should have spent the day in the hospital corridors because he upset you. If you were together, he would have a nice meal with you after school to celebrate your success. However, you were ignorant because of your age. A mature man knows how to treat a woman in front of him, and would satisfy a woman's desire for a relationship to the fullest. He wanted to make you experience this, but he also respected that he wouldn't want to spend his life with an old man.

Joel wanted to put all this 'blind love' nonsense aside. It was time for the woman he loved to open her eyes. He looked at you again from the window of his office and called out, his tone hardening.

"Come to my office right now!"

The students around you were also watching you curiously.

You looked up reluctantly and turned your head from side to side to show that you didn't want this. It would be best to surrender yourself to loneliness and get depressed. But Joel's angry gaze was more than enough to break your stubbornness.

You puffed out your cheeks and whined like a little girl.

Joel was pacing back and forth while waiting in the office. He was too anxious and nervous to wait. The moment the door opened and he saw you in front of him, he released his anger.

"What are you doing! Do you realize you're ruining your youth for someone like him!"

You were sobbing. "No matter what I do I can't stop him, I've done everything he wants but he wants more!"

Joel got angry. You heard how his tone got harsher. "I told you! I warned you! Why are you with that son of a bitch and not someone who loves you!"

The curse you heard from your teacher had stopped your crying, turning your sadness into confusion. Since it was lunch break, there was no one on the office floor, thank God.

No matter how much you were aware of the hatred in the man's eyes, the pain he was hiding inside had settled in your heart. You didn't know what to say. Should you tell him everything?

"Why does my life concern you!" You tried to ask for an explanation, but it was more of curiosity. You wanted to know the reason. If you knew, if he had told you the truth while looking into your eyes... Were you ready for a single word that came out of his lips?

Your question frustrated Joel. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind you, thinking. He muttered to himself.

"You're right. It's my fault," he said and motioned you to the door. You turned back to Joel, looking guilty and slowly walking towards the door. Before you walked out the door, you looked at him again and whispered.

"We don't have the relationship you think. There's a lot you don't know about me."

He frowned, finding it strange. “What do you mean?”

You were about to leave the office without answering when Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you to him, hugging you tightly. He was kissing your hair. “What’s wrong with you?” then he took your face in his hands. His gaze was stern. “I’m here for you, do you hear me? Tell me everything, no matter what.”

"I am that person," you said. Joel looked into your eyes as he stroked your hair, urging you to continue. "My last name is. I am the daughter of a famous mobster. Bill. Bill knows that, and his family is using me to get close to my family. He's threatening me with you. He's threatening to ruin your life and complain to my father. He knows how much I love you."

Joel pulled away from you in shock. “This can’t be happening, you…”

You were crying.

Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you back into his office, closing the door behind him. “Those stories you told, were they all lies?”

You wrapped your arms around your chest. You couldn’t look at him; your eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. The corners of your eyes were red and swollen from crying. “Yes, but I wanted to hide from the sins of my family for once. I wanted people to look at me normally, Joel. I wanted them to meet me and spend time with me with neutral feelings. It wasn’t my choice to be born into this family. I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down your cheeks, creating an image resembling roads.

Joel didn’t know what to do or say. All he knew was that he didn’t want you to cry in front of him. He wanted you to be strong. You shouldn’t have to answer to anyone. His fingers gripped your chin roughly and tilted your head up. He wanted to change the fear in your eyes. He suddenly brought his face closer to yours and brought his lips to yours. His tongue was exploring the inside of your mouth. His fingers on your jaw were now caressing your cheeks.

He pulled his head back and hugged you tightly. “Maybe you should have sought heaven in the arms of a man who desires you. Not by hiding behind lies.”

It was hard to talk while crying. "I couldn't drag you into the dark pit of my life, but I can't take it anymore. I had to tell everything to someone I trusted."

You were the woman Mr. Miller called 'my weakness'. Of course, it was impossible for him to resist you when you were talking to him like that. He looked at her with displeasure. His attitude was strict. "Don't worry about anything that bothers you. Just know that I am here for you and will always be here for you."

Without waiting for you to respond, Joel moved towards your lips, wanting all that waiting to end. He was kissing you so hard that he held you tightly by the waist, feeling that you couldn’t keep your balance. His fingers touched your cheek and squeezed your lips between them, making them part. This way, his tongue could easily find its place in your mouth. You felt ticklish as the papillaes rubbed against yours. His saliva was flowing from the tip of his tongue to yours; it was warm. Almost equal to his body temperature. Then he took his tongue out and tasted the outside of your lips. In the meantime, one of his hands was in your hair, pressing you against him. Your hair was under his fingers. He suddenly grabbed them and tilted your head back.

"Am I really the one you want to have your first with? Are you sure about that?" he asked with his passionate gaze.

"I've never been so sure," you responded. You liked his tough attitude.

He released your hair and took a step back, ordering you to take off your shirt. You started to undress at the same time. After throwing your clothes aside, Joel quickly moved towards your lips. This time he didn't intend to hold you back. You shivered when you felt his weight and strength all over your body. You stumbled back and your body fell into the soft fabric of the couch. Joel fell right on top of you. A small groan came out of your mouth in surprise. Then you both started laughing. But you couldn't help but make love. This man knew how to touch you. Joel buried his head in your neck and sniffed.

"Why can't I get enough of your scent?"

The scent of your skin made him hungry; its color decorated your skin like a maraschino cherry on top of a dessert. "If you only knew how hard I tried to smell that every time you passed me." His tongue traveled from where your pulse beat to her throat and then down to your collarbones. His hardening penis between your legs was slowly starting to put pressure on your outer lips. Your eyes widened in surprise. You didn't think he could be this hard. You moaned raggedly.

He put his elbow on the seat and supported it. He wanted to watch your surprise before he was about to go down to your breasts. His face was right above you now. He was looking down with pleasure.

"How do you feel? Do you like it? Don't you want more?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. You bit your lower lip, showing how much pleasure you were getting.

Joel straightened up, pulled the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off along with your panties. He looked at the hairs that had just started to grow on your outer lips. Even though you apologized shyly, Joel really liked it. He leaned over you again. Your head was between his arms, supported by his elbows. His face got even closer to yours. He hugged you. You felt like you were in prison. Orgasm prison! His lips were on your cheek, his hot breath hitting your skin as he rubbed his penis against your inner lips. He released one hand and unbuttoned his pants, trying not to get off of you.

He placed his penis between your inner lips and began to rub it from your clitoris to the entrance of vagina. Joel's lips parted. His eyes squeezed shut. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How can you be so hot and wet? We've only just begun. Did you desire me that much?"

You moaned every time Joel’s penis tip slid over your clit. “Oh, you moan so well. Perfect!” he said.

You heard the office door suddenly open and close. Shit! Someone had seen you. Joel got up quickly, fixed his clothes, and ran to the door and out. A few students in the hallway looked at him but didn’t understand what had happened. When he looked back at you in the office, you were startled by what he had said. “It was Bill.”

From that day on, Bill didn't use what he saw against you. It was as if he had forgotten what he saw. Even though Bill's family and your family were getting closer day by day, there were still things that weren't right. Still, the relationship between you and Joel was getting better day by day. You were bonding. You would meet secretly in his office during meal times, lock the door and have sex.

***

If there was one thing that was bad about hot summer days, it was the rain for Joel. The raindrops increased the humidity, making the air even more oppressive.

Her linen blouse was soaked and uncomfortable. He put the book down next to him, took off his T-shirt in one move, and threw it on the chair across from him. His now wheat-colored skin, shiny with sweat, looked quite inviting.

While looking at the heat transfer questions in the book in his hand, he was shaking the ash from the end of her cigarette into the beer residue in the glass on the coffee table next to him, and at the same time trying to solve a question about the heat exchanger unit of the tubular evaporator in his mind. As if his eyes were swearing loyalty to the page, he took the cigarette between his two fingers and squeezed it between his lips when he heard a notification on his phone. The light on the screen distracted him and made him look in that direction. It was on the coffee table. At first, he thought it was one of his friends who had written it and ignored it. He found the answer and turned the next page. But his eyes were on the phone. Perhaps the department head had announced that there would be a meeting early tomorrow. He liked to choose such inconvenient hours. After school, when you feel free, work doesn't leave you alone.

He took another sip from his cigarette. Then he threw it in the glass. It made sizzling sounds with appetite, as if the beer was waiting for it to do the same.

Joel used his index finger as a bookmark, placing it between the pages he was on, and leaned over to unlock his phone.

The message was from you. Since he didn't have such habits, he got excited and sped up his movements. He put the book where it was before and stood up. His eyebrows were furrowed with curiosity.

- Help

When Joel saw your message, he called you in a panic. You didn’t answer. He called again. The phone rang for a long time but you didn’t answer. Joel was about to go crazy. He was walking in the living room with harsh steps. He was muttering and cursing to himself. “What the fuck is going on!” While he was thinking about what to do, his phone rang. Anger, fear and curiosity made his hands shake. When he saw your name on the screen, he hurriedly answered it, afraid that you would hang up.

“What’s going on honey, talk to me!”

Although you answered him, Joel could only hear you sobbing, then screaming. Joel shouted insults at you to get you to come to.

“Tell me where you are now, I’ll come!”

You said, your voice trembling, that you were at Bill’s house. “I did something terrible, Joel. Please help me!” You shouted.

Joel muttered to himself, "My God, what did you do?" Then he tried to calm you down. He was telling you that everything would be okay. Everything would be okay. They would overcome all their problems together.

"Now calm down honey so I can figure everything out. Okay? If you calm down everything will be perfect."

"Do you believe everything will be okay?" you asked emotionlessly.

There was hope in Joel’s voice. He acted as if he was happy despite everything, but his expression was the opposite.

“Of course, honey. You should believe too. Send me your location now."

The house you were in was in the suburbs.

When he arrived home by car, an hour had passed. He was now in front of the door. He looked around first, then checked if there was any noise coming from inside. He knocked on the door. After waiting for a while, the door slowly started to open. You were standing in front of him like a dead woman. Your skin was pale, your under eyes were dark. Your eyes were red from crying. When Joel looked at your condition, he pushed you away in fear and entered. He saw blood stains on the floor from the door that opened into the living room. When he entered there, Bill's lifeless body was lying on the floor.

He whispered, "Jesus fuckin' Christ! What have you done!"

You were sobbing while trying to explain the incident. "He made a plan, he made me come here. He said he saw us and he would kill you. He would do worse things to me than killing. His father betrayed us and he worked with the enemy family to appear as my father's friend. He attacked me to possess me. After torturing me tonight, he was going to kill me. I had no other choice." It didn't seem like you were explaining the events to Joel, it was like you were begging God for forgiveness.

It was his first night of crime. You had killed someone and Joel witnessed everything that happened to you that night. He gathered you and your things, pulled you by the arm and you got in the car and drove away. You were not well. You were in no condition to talk. All you felt was nausea. Things were going to get messy between the two families. It was unclear where Joel would fit into this story. He got involved in this without meaning to. He took you to a motel, took your clothes off, took a shower, then laid you on the bed and thought about what to do.

He sat down for a while and closed his eyes, trying to calm down with your phone in his hand. And now, the move that changed everything was finally made. After Joel calmed down, he called your father on his phone. He needed to tell him everything, so they had to meet.

Your father was talking to Joel in his office in your mansion. He was a manipulative man with high psychoanalysis skills. A beautiful talent for defeating his enemies. He understood Joel's character from his first sentences. He was too proud to betray the person he promised to. Moreover, he was madly in love with his daughter. He was ready to do anything for you. Maybe he could test Joel to decide whether or not to take him in.

In the end of the night, Joel sacrificed himself for your love and wanted to take the blame. Of course, the person who guided him was secretly your father.

Joel went to prison. Of course, Bill's father was in cahoots with the enemy family and their men were there too. They gave Joel hell in prison by order. Psychological violence, beatings, starvation, cuts on his face and body and tortures that I don't want to say. Joel went through personal mutations for every bad day he spent in prison. But no matter what, Joel didn't give you away.

On the day you were supposed to meet him, he was in such bad shape that he couldn't even appear before you. Although the guard had initially told you that he didn't want to meet you because he didn't want to, a small amount of money had been enough to make him tell the truth. Now you wanted to see him even more. Two officers had taken his arm to get him to come into the room. His face was bruised and one of his legs was broken.

You cried as soon as you saw him. Even though you said it was all your fault, Joel didn't think so. It was a price to pay for love. You kissed him on the lips.

"Oh Joel, things are so bad out there. I spend every day in fear and worry. My father said it would be better if you stayed here for a while longer. He promised to help you."

Joel understood everything. What he had experienced during his time in prison and what your father had told him made him look at life differently. He realized how much of a spoilsport and hypocrite he was.

Your father didn't help Joel. It seemed that way at first. But his only goal was to get Joel on his side and make him his assistant. He did everything for this purpose. He made your father experience situations that would prove his loyalty from prison. When the time came, Joel also told big lies, slandered people. He smuggled banned substances and equipment into prison. Your father and Joel were talking with secret messages, giving your father strategic ideas in the face of the events.

Joel eventually learned to survive in this rat hole, and there was no trace of his academic identity left.

Eventually the situation with Bill's family came to an end, but the feud with the Fontana family remained. Joel was released from prison after four years thanks to a corrupt prosecutor's decision.

Joel wasn't the only one who changed during those four years. After Bill's death, you too became closer to your father and his business. While your family life felt foreign to you, you began to manage your father's business step by step, while hiding your wealth and how it came to be. No one called you by your name anymore. You were Mrs. Castello. Even though you were a feared woman, you still felt the old you deep down. It was calling out to you from the black well you had imprisoned. But you had long since passed the point of no return. Whenever you visited Joel, you both saw the changes in you, but you didn’t talk about it. Otherwise, you were as afraid of feeling guilty as Joel was of hating you.

After Joel got out of prison, his only home was your mansion. That was his life. He wanted to be a promising professor but he had to be a slave to the mafia boss, however he had a plan.

You were in your father’s office, wearing a black jacket with a sable collar. A pencil skirt that was just above the knees and black stockings. You were sitting on the arm of your father’s chair, examining the documents in his hand. The red soles of your Louboutins were shining because you had your legs crossed.

Your maid excused herself and came in to announce that Mr. Miller had arrived. While your father had a pleased expression on his face, you swallowed nervously.

Joel made eye contact with you when he walked in. It was so long that your father looked at you and started talking.

“We’ve been waiting so long for this day to come.” he stood up and walked over to Joel, hugging him tightly. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Don Castello.” he said, but his eyes were still on you, a look you couldn’t understand.

You got married in a lavish wedding. Joel was now the son-in-law of the respected mafia boss, his right-hand man. He was the key to their fight against the Fontana family. Don Castello never left him. His decisions were never wrong. In fact, he had convinced them that he had infiltrated the Fontana family and betrayed you. He would leak information that they thought would be useful to them. In return, he would receive a large amount of money, property and men. Of course, he would never tell you what he had obtained. But there was one detail your father missed. Joel was never loyal to you. He was learning the secret files of two enemy families and using them for himself, and no one understood.

One day, you noticed the secret room of the house you lived in with Joel. It was a day when Joel went out of town. You were alone at home and unknown enemies opened fire on your house. You were caught in the middle of the conflict while they attacked your house with powerful weapons. While you were trying to escape, a rococo painting from the ceiling to the floor was shattered by bullets. After that bad night, you discovered the door leading to the secret room. You had to be good at software to solve the code, but luckily, you were an engineer. You knew software work well anyway. You worked until Joel got the news of what you had experienced and returned home, and finally you unlocked the door. The interior surprised you. At first, you couldn't even understand why there was such a room. There were many photos of people from the community hanging on the walls, notes, and maps drawn with pencils. There were many files and documents on the table and in the cabinets in the room. It was prepared to use even the smallest information about the mafia families. And you were taking the leading role. As you looked through the notes and documents, you saw that Joel had been aiming to cause a rebellion by manipulating everyone who worked under your father's command all this time. He had plans not only for you, but also for the Fontana family, and he was succeeding step by step.

Your breathing quickened. You had no idea your husband could be so dangerous. You should have been afraid of him, Joel was no longer the lecturer you met at university. He was a menace and he was betraying you to become a Godfather!

You heard his voice as you looked at the plan paper in your hand.

"So you finally learned everything, my dear."

"You...I don't understand why. Joel, you betrayed us. You betrayed me, the woman you loved!"

"A small price to pay for what was stolen from me, my love."

You frowned in disappointment. You waved the paper in your hand. "Was all of this more important than our love?"

Joel approached you. He grabbed your shoulders and caressed them. Although his expression said he was in love, the arrogance and ambition in his eyes scared you.

"No one can harm you, my love. I'll put an end to all this family nonsense. I'll take over and you'll be my queen. Not the Castell family, not the Fontana family... We'll rule the city together."

You looked calmly into Joel's eyes. You placed your hand on his cheek. "The man I love, where is he?"

“I’m still the man you love. It’s just that all this has shown me the dark side of life.” Your lips were trembling. “You were never that man, Joel. You just waited for the right time after you found out I was Castello, right?”

Joel gritted his teeth. "This isn't true."

Your face was expressionless as tears rolled down your cheeks. "When I started college, the reason I wanted to hide who I am was to protect myself from bastards who thought they could use me to gain power. Like Bill. But I see that I had already given that person my own hand."

Joel felt conflicting emotions at their most intense. Hate and love, sadness and anger, regret and satisfaction. "You know all that stuff isn't true."

You took two steps closer. Your bodies were a few centimeters away from each other. With a stern look, you said, "Everyone has chosen their side. I am now one of your worst enemies, watch your step, love of my life," and left the place.

You left the house without even taking your phone. You were able to cry after getting into the car your father had given you for the wedding and setting off. You were sobbing. Even if you tried to escape the curse of your last name, you would get caught sooner or later.

Your father was waiting for you in his office. When he saw you crying, he hadn't thought of Joel. After you told him everything, he started shouting with saliva coming out of his mouth and vowing revenge. You were your father's right-hand man now. Even though Don Castello was a powerful man, you knew Joel's weaknesses and weak points just as Joel knew you. It was time to trust your own intelligence and take control of the game. Who else could be more hostile than two people in love?

The battle between you was getting more and more personal. Just like chess, as you made moves, one side lost pieces, but neither side gave up.

Not only you but also your friends supported Don Castello. There were still a few families that remained your friends. They would help you at the cost of their lives.

The news was busy with the aftermath of the war between you and Joel. Every day, people were dying because of you. Bombs were going off, hostages were being taken, and there were clashes. The police should have intervened, but justice didn't work in this city, force did. The strange thing was that the more you fought, the more you fell in love with each other. The more aggressive you became as your love and passion intensified. Joel wanted you by his side more than ever. He wanted to touch you, smell your skin again. But now you were sins to each other. He couldn't stomach this. He wanted revenge on everything. Every second he was separated from you, forced to fight you, the seeds of revenge were growing in his heart.

One day he realized that all this had to end. It was a never-ending fight. Every moment he thought he was going to win, you were making a counter-move and ruining his plans. The best thing was to confront him.

He sent a message to the mansion. He would arrive there with his men on Friday. Everything would end and someone would win. You would sit in Don Castello’s office and make your decision instead of him. You turned to your father, who was sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “Father, I know you understand the decision I am going to make,” you said. Don Castello nodded and you continued. “Have them take you to our secret base outside the city. And don’t leave until this fight is over."

Don Castello looked at his daughter with a firm expression. "No, I did not become Don Castello by running away."

"I can handle him, but Joel won't stop until he kills you! You have to run!"

The man reached out to his hand on the table and shook it. "I'd like to say I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, but I'm a man whose emotions were taken away from him when he was a child. All I can say is that I have complete confidence in you. You'll be just as good as me in this community."

The real war would soon be fought in front of your house. That's why preparations were made, all possibilities were considered. Until that day came...

You and your father stood on the steps of the mansion. Your men surrounded you to protect you. Joel came with his men. You saw the men you used to work for. Your father had helped them, given them work when they were about to starve. But now they were with Joel.

Before they could begin, Joel stepped forward and glared at the woman he loved.

"Do you really want this, my love? Do you want our love to end in such an epic way? You still have a choice. Come to me and everything will be over."

You shouted. "The man I loved died years ago. I have no choice to make anymore!" then your voice got lower. "It will all end tonight."

Joel looked at you without answering. Every moment from the first day you met until today flashed before his eyes. He really didn't want this. He had such beautiful dreams with you. He swallowed. Then he looked at your father. He knew that everything was his fault. His eyes were as dark as before now. He gave the order to start. Neither Joel nor you were holding back. You both had weapons. You were fighting each other to death in the fight. You took cover behind one of the Greek columns at the entrance of the mansion and targeted Joel, who was hiding behind his car, and continued shooting. When you hid, Joel started shooting and running towards you. In the meantime, his men were protecting him.

You called out to your most trusted man to take care of Joel so that he would be distracted and you could shoot him easily.

You tried to get close to Joel by coming out from behind the pillar, by protecting yourself from the bullets and shooting at the others.

Joel was struggling with two people at the same time. You were caught in the middle of the fight, unafraid of death. Then there was an explosion. Immediately afterwards, the maid screamed loudly. "Don Castello!"

You turned around and looked. One of Joel's men had shot your father. His body was lying there on the ground. The man who betrayed you had killed your father had once trusted the most. You ran towards your father, screaming, but that man wanted to kill you too. This time he pointed the gun at you and fired. But Joel jumped on you, preventing the bullet from hitting. He shouted at his men to retreat.

You were in Joel's arms, screaming that you hated him. "Let me go! I wish I never met you!"

You hit his head with your gun to escape. You did it. As you ran towards your father's lifeless body, Joel called out.

"I'll let you mourn your father. We're leaving."

Joel got what he wanted, your father was dead. It made a big splash in the entire criminal community. The news that your father was dead. The city's police department was in shock. While everyone was arguing about who would be the new owner of the city, Joel had already declared himself the new The Boss of all Bosses . Even though you were separated, he remained married to you, a loyal and loving husband.

Of course, this was different for you. Yes, Joel was treating you like the man you fell in love with; you still loved him as before. However, you also wanted to avenge your father. That's why you made a deal with the famous detective of the police department. In the end, you managed to put him in jail. And for a very small matter. Tax evasion. With the pride of this, you lived happily ever after in your mansion. For a while, you were the queen of the mafia world all by yourself.

I imagined and designed Y/N as a godmother.

You were in the courtroom among the audience. Of course, you were sitting in the front row because you were Joel Miller's wife. But you were worried. Joel kept his eyes on you while his lawyer spoke and gave his defense. He knew very well that he went to prison because of you and today was the day of his acquittal. When you looked into his eyes, it was obvious that he was thinking about what he was going to do to you. You were so close to being together(!) So, were these your last moments of peace? Yes. The woman he loved had betrayed him. Moreover, he had a reputation as the most brutal mafia boss in your community. Who knows what kind of monster the betrayal of the woman he loved would turn him into!

You looked away from him, but you didn’t change your upright posture as if you were trying to convince him that you weren’t afraid of him. But you were praying inwardly that the judge would find an excuse to put him back inside. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. The jury and the evidence were in his favor. You were beginning to wonder how much the judge had been sold for. When the verdict was given and Joel was released, there was a loud applause in the courtroom. You turned around in shock. The public, who knew him from the news channels and interviews, hadn’t neglected to come to the hearing. He had a lot of fans. It was scary. From the outside, most of them looked like the children of good families.

When the court was finally over and they started to go out, you were the first to stand up and walk quickly. Joel was smiling meaningfully at you as you got up from the chair. He knew you couldn’t escape him. No matter what you did, go underground; he would still find you. Knowing this, you started walking down the hallway with shaking legs and a sullen expression in your eyes. Your father's friend and assistant Mr. Montana was waiting for you outside, by the car. Both doors of the car were open. You got in without wasting any time and started walking. Two big guys were standing behind the car. When you got to the main road, another car appeared to protect you. Everyone knew very well that Joel was looking forward to this day. He had to be faster. You were yelling for him to be faster! They were probably after you right now. When you lost your track and entered a deserted road, you would change cars, easily lose your track and get out of town. When you arrived target, you could breathe for passport procedures.

When you got to the suburbs, you looked around. There were no cars in front of you or behind you on the road. You leaned back in your seat, thanking God. With a heavy heart, you said,

"This is great! I won't see him forever!"

A pained expression was on his face. When you met him years ago, you thought he was the love of your life. Now he was your enemy. Your enemy whom you still loved like crazy!

"Finally," Mr. Montana said. "My queen, we finally saw the vehicle that was going to pick you up!"

A black van was waiting for you. Mr. Montana had chosen to stay while you got out of the car. Miller's men could have come in the meantime and opened fire on you. But you wanted to get in the car as soon as possible and leave without attracting attention. You turned to Montana as you greeted the driver of the van and drove off.

"You'd better go now. We shouldn't attract attention. It's safe from now on."

Mr. Montana asked with a worried look. "Are you sure, m'am?"

You looked at him firmly. "Of course. Go ahead!"

If you wanted to change vehicles, it wouldn't make sense to have a bunch of guys following you, stopping and waiting. So you wanted them all to leave. The driver and the two guys in the car would be on the alert in case there was trouble.

You got in the car as soon as possible. Contrary to what you thought, the car was empty. Only the driver in front greeted you from the rearview mirror.

"Welcome m'am. If you wish, we can set off immediately."

Although the man's gaze bothered you, being accustomed to your father's men did not leave any room for doubt.

"Yes, please."

The driver started the car and you set off. You were still looking around paranoidly. There was no one in the back that would make you think they were Joel's men.

You caught the driver's eye from the rearview mirror. He smiled.

"If you wish, I can close the screen. You will have a comfortable journey."

You pressed your lips together and gave your answer with a shy look. "That would be great, thank you."

After the automatic door closed, you relaxed your formal sitting position. You were looking outside. The sense of anxiety that had emerged inside you was clouding your mind. It was impossible for you to escape from Joel so easily.

You took the wrong turn. The man had missed the road. You leaned forward, frowning. You tapped the screen.

"You took the wrong turn! Hey!" He didn't seem to hear you. You raised your voice. You started tapping the screen harder. "I'm telling you! Stop the car right now, right now! Or you'll pay dearly!"

This wasn't the person you agreed with. You took the wrong car. It was one of Joel's men. They had killed the original driver who was supposed to take you to the airport, cut him up into pieces and put him in the back of the trunk. The car waiting was the right one; except for the driver.

You started screaming and banging on the windows. You lifted your legs up and started banging your heels against the window. You took deep breaths and gathered your strength, using your legs hard. But what could you do against the unbreakable glass?

Your screams echoed throughout the car. "You'll pay dearly for this, you son of a bitch!"

Soon, a hissing sound was heard and the room began to fill with knockout gas. Even if you tried to cover your face with your shirt and held your breath, it was impossible not to be exposed to the gas. You could neither open a window nor was the density of the gas decreasing. Finally, you let yourself go. Your body was relaxing, convincing you to let sleep take over.

When you opened your eyes, you could swear that the world had turned upside down. Maybe the world wasn't the problem. You were hanging upside down from the ceiling. You were completely naked, your arms were tied to your waist with a burgundy rope. Your lower leg was tied to your upper leg, the rope was stretched and tied to the other rope that tied your arm.

The light of the candles burning in the room with tiled walls was reflecting on the surface of the tiles. The musty smell of the pipes passing through the ceiling, covered in mud and filth and covered in moss, filled your lungs and made you feel nauseous. Even though it was uncertain what would happen to you, you were aware of the pain you would soon suffer. You were struggling as if you could break free from the ropes. Your hair follicles swelled as the coldness of the environment penetrated your cells, but the adrenaline spread by the fear surrounding your body prevented you from realizing the coldness of the environment.

Even though your voice was muffled by the gag, you continued to cry, and finally the moment had come. When the heavy door began to creak open, the sound echoed off the walls in a piercing way. You stopped crying and focused on the door. Although you couldn’t see it clearly because it was so dark, you could see enough to understand that Joel had come in. The way he was dressed, his anatomy, the way he was walking down the stairs…

Your muscles were tense. Your hands and feet were shaking. You were trying to say something. If you hadn't had the gag in your mouth, you wouldn't have been able to apologize to him. No matter how scared you were, no matter how much you regretted what you had done because of the pain you would go through, you wouldn't let him use your weakness as ammunition.

Joel began to descend the stairs, looking at your naked body in front of you. The candlelight, just like the tiles, was reflecting on your sweat-soaked skin. The orange color of the candle flame mixed into the palette that made up his skin tone. The damp look was so seductive that it brought to mind eroticism, a wet vulva, and how writhed as he caressed you.But you betrayed him. You betrayed him as the woman he loved and trusted, you wanted to get rid of him. That's why he could have killed you - by making you writhe in pain. But you were the only thing he valued in this life. He should have punished, but his love set his limits.

The thud of the shoe heel was starting to threaten you more deeply as it got closer.

Joel spoke his first words with a half-mocking, half-angry tone.

"So you thought you could escape me, my love? You thought you could get away from this man who is so head over heels in love with you." He was standing right in front of you now. His lips were right in front of your eyes. Every word he said was passionate as it came out. "What a shame, what a shame, my dear." He put his hand on your forehead. After wiping the drops of sweat from your forehead with his fingertips, his hand went to your hair that was tied into a ponytail this time and gently pulled your head closer to his, pressing his lips to your forehead; he smelled your skin and kissed you passionately.

" Oh, it's been a long time since I did that!"

Then he placed both hands on your cheeks. You were used to his roughness. Even during his academic days, he liked to treat you rough in bed. He squeezed your cheeks and reached for your lips. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't. He stuck out his tongue and licked your lips as if he wanted to grasp their shape. His tongue covered your lips many times and slid up and down. He must have been unable to slow down, so he left your lips and started to adorn your chin with bites. Of course, his tongue was not restless. He continued to lick from your chin to your cheekbones and then to your eyes. Your face was filled with his saliva, your skin came alive with his moist touches. You groaned as your body spasmed with the unexpected slap. It hurt.

He shouted as hatred gushed from his eyes. "Why! Tell me why you did it! You knew what would happen to you!" When he grabbed your hair hard and lifted your head up, your head was spinning from being upside down. "Did you think you could escape me, huh? Do you think I'd leave you alone?" Suddenly calming down, he answered his own questions in a whisper. The mocking attitude on his face was frightening. "No, my beauty, there's no way you can escape me. Not possible while my soul, which has drifted away from God, is bathed in your holiness." After kissing her cheek awkwardly, he whispered in her ear as if he had something to hide. "You're the reason I'm alive. Even if you go seven floors below hell, I'll find you and bring you out, do you understand me?"

Your breath was shaking with fear. But when he looked into your eyes, there was no trace of fear.

Joel suddenly shouted, knowing that this was a challenge. "I said, do you understand!" Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear, and you blinked. Joel laughed with pride at revealing the role you had played. He breathed deeply and caressed your bare breasts in a harassing manner. He sighed at the sharpness of the tips and the pink color.

"You have no idea how much pleasure it gives me to see you afraid of me, my dear! It's more erotic than the nights I spent fucking you for hours; I'm sure of it."

He released you. He took a step back and opened the corner of his jacket, taking out his knife from a hidden pocket. High carbon stainless steel. Its sharp tip and razor-sharp edges and brilliance.

All kinds of torture came to your mind. The one you feared the most was that he could rip your eyes out. Your father had tried this on an assassin who was trying to kill him. You started to struggle and struggle as if you could escape the ropes. You were trying to shout, to scream. Your eyebrows were furrowed in fear. You were crying. Joel approached you again, showing you the knife, and held the sharp end in front of you, making eye contact.

"Shh... My love, don't worry, I won't hurt you. I just need to take the gag out of your mouth. I think we should solve our problems by talking as husband and wife," he said. He looked very calm and cute, but his expressions were never sincere. When you didn't stop crying, he suddenly pressed the sharp end of the knife against your throat. Although it hurt, it didn't even leave a mark on your skin. His angry gaze was back again. "First, stop crying! The helpless behavior of a strong woman like you gets on my nerves." he stopped and thought. Then he kissed your cheek. Insincere innocence appeared on your face again. "At least for now." Joel dragged the edge of the knife along your skin without pulling it out... From your neck to your jawbone, from there to your cheek and the binding part of the gag; it stopped there. He inserted it between your skin and the binding and started cutting the fabric. At the same time, he held you respobsible, as if he was muttering to himself. While one hand was holding the knife, the other hand was holding your waist with a force that hurt.

You began to cry and beg Joel to release you. But the words Joel used while demanding an explanation were enough to make you angry. He slapped you again. He shouted as if his throat was tearing. His skin turned bright red. "Tell me, was it worth it! Did you think you would avenge your father when you told that son of a bitch commissioner everything!"

"Enough, stop! I'm sorry."

He had calmed down. He took a step back, looked you up and down and started to walk around you with heavy steps. He was thinking about how and to what extent he would apply the evil ideas in his mind to you. Not being able to see what he was doing when he was standing behind you fed your fear. You heard his footsteps again. He was walking away from you. It must have been the loyalty he felt to his love if you died painlessly with a single bullet. You started to hear rattling. The sound of metal hitting the tiles, a banging sound resembling a cupboard door. You couldn't catch your breath.

Joel took the black leather whip in his hand and hit it in the palm of his hand, wanting the sound to bother you. If it was this hard even when he hit his own palm, the pain you would feel on your skin would be unbearable.

Joel approached you. A shiver ran through your entire body as he placed the tip of the whip on your spine and rubbed it all over. "Don't worry, my beauty, I won't treat you like I treat the other informants, but that doesn't mean I won't punish you." As soon as he finished his words, he hit the tip of the whip against your hip with all his might. The muscles in your body tensed, a weak "ah" sound escaped your lips.

"Did it hurt, huh?"

You stuttered. "Yes!"

"Good, I'll hurt you more."

This wasn't a whip used for fantasy. It was a leather whip used in horse riding to provoke animals. And it hurt more with each stroke. Your screams grew louder, eventually turning into pleas. Your skin was bright red, spreading to other areas that were white. The places he hit were slowly starting to go numb. Joel understood this from the calmness of your screams. A moment ago, you were screaming and struggling to get free of the ropes. Now it had been replaced by moans and small screams. It was time to stop. He threw the whip down and stood in front of you. He pulled your hair hard and hurt you. He looked into your eyes with greed.

"You'll be mine again, do you hear me! You'll fall in love with me all over again, whether you want it or not! Because you have no other choice!" He kissed your lips. His tongue had pushed your lips as if it was crushing them, meeting the inside of your mouth. The moisture on his tongue was intense. Your thirsty lips were wet with his saliva. It was disgusting, but it was as seductive as it sounded. You felt like you were one with the man you desired. He was sucking and biting your tongue on one hand. His hands were not idle, however. He was lifting it up, reaching your belly and caressing it down to your breasts. You wanted to scream when he suddenly squeezed your tips while stimulating them, but his merciless kiss prevented you.

Joel moved away from you again. He moved behind you, where he had just gone, and started turning the handle mounted on the wall. You could hear the sound of two metals rubbing together and you were slowly starting to lower. When Joel thought it was enough, he stopped. When he came back to you and stood in front of you, he saw how the inner lips of your vulva were glistening with your juices.

"Oh no, look at you," he pressed his fingers to your clitoris and moved all the way to the entrance of your vagina. "You're soaked, darling. Wasn't today supposed to be your punishment?" he said mockingly. Then, he brought his fingers together and raised his hand into the air and slapped your vulva. You flinched at the scream that escaped your lips.

"Joel, you don't know what you're doing! Please stop!" you said in a tearful tone.

He only responded to this with mockery. "Honey, I don't know whether to listen to your words or act on what I see." He slapped your vulva over and over again. Even though it hurt, the shocking flicks you felt on your clit were making your pupils dilate in pleasure. Your moans of pleasure were mixed with your cries of pain.

Joel couldn't take it anymore. He buried his head in your vulva. It was a betrayal! It was already your biggest betrayal when you left home. He was willing to go to jail again for you, but right now he just wanted to fuck you like an animal. To get inside you, to feel you from the inside! To fuck your vagina hard and take all his revenge on your burning pussy! The liquid flowing from your vagina was the honeydew in the hive for him. He was licking all the liquid greedily, smearing it on his lips. Your vulva was now burning. His slapping had turned the pinkness on the skin into redness, and this was whet Joel's appetite even more.

He moved one hand to the fabric of his pants as he continued. He clumsily tried to undo his belt buckle. Even that was hard to do when he was focused on your sweet peach. He undid the buckle without removing the leather belt from its slots and his fingers met the zipper. You thought the bulge that appeared in front of your eyes as you pulled it down would hit your face in a moment. His hardened penis was straining the fabric.

After his penis was out of his pants, Joel took it in his hand and pulled his mouth away from your pussy lips to look at where he would place his cock. You didn’t want to perform oral on him in this position. There had been many times when he wanted you to hang your head off the bed. He would use your mouth as a vagina. But you were gagging and gasping for breath. That was why you never adjusted the position that way. But right now, he didn’t care about that at all. You had to take your punishment.

Joel was in ecstasy with the pleasure you were giving him. He continued to suck your vulva while moaning, but after a while he couldn't resist and lifted his head from your buried womanhood. He put his hand on the inside of your thigh, spanked it and squeezed it with almost all his strength. You were sucking it so well that your groin cramped up until you couldn't orgasm.

His voice was shaking, "You know how to drive me crazy," he said and laughed with pleasure. He reached down to your breasts and slapped them every time he made them cum, caressing them painfully.

Moans interspersed with each sentence. "Yes, my love! Make your husband happy! It'll be a bargaining chip for the punishments I'll give you in the coming days, huh? What do you say, my beauty?" He squeezed your nipples so hard that you stopped sucking his cock and tried to scream in pain. Joel laughed. "I can only come when I watch you moan in agony," he said and crushed your nipples between his fingers once more.

Even though your body was shaken by the pain, the interruption of your vaginal pleasure was more annoying than the action itself. You put the oral sex aside and gently brushed your teeth against Joel’s flesh, trying to get him to take his cock out of your mouth. In response, he winced and took his big cock out of his mouth.

He got down on one knee and brought his face level with yours. He grabbed your hair and pulled. "What do you think you're doing!"

You grinned cheekily, calmly and confidently. "What about me? I'm dying to squirt all over your face."

"First you'll fill me up. Then it'll be your turn." he said and suddenly he let go of your hair and stood up, putting his cock back in your mouth and thinking that he was fucking your glistening vagina in front of him, he continued to fuck your mouth with back and forth movements. At this time, he put his index and middle fingers together and pushed them into your vagina. His cock was fucking your mouth, his fingers were fucking your womanhood. As your pleasure increased, your oral performance also increased and finally Joel slapped your vulva repeatedly and ejaculated. His sperm overflowed from your lips and the salty taste spread all over your mouth. The hot, slippery and thick fluid would have long since slipped down your throat if you hadn't been upside down. When Joel pulled his cock out of your mouth, he felt exhausted. He was tired. Breathlessly, he kissed her inner thighs with calm touches. "You must be a sex goddess. You have a divine talent and I worship it."

He took a few steps back and moved away from you, adjusting his fabric pants. In the meantime, you were watching him, while at the same time, you were grazing the semen flowing from his lips with your tongue. Even though your stomach was queasy as you stood upside down, you had already lost your way in the hot deserts of lust. Your expectations were high. You wanted to find an oasis in the middle of the hot desert.

You asked Joel while he was fastening his belt. "When will it be my turn?"

When he was ready, he stood in front of you again and leaned down, leaving a passionate kiss on your forehead. "You will come whenever I want, and that's not right now, my dear wife!"

You were surprised. Your groin ached, your vulva was on fire, your clitoris was pulsing. You shouted with the anger of being left unfinished. "You can't do this! I hate you, do you hear me!"

It was such a pleasure to disappoint you that he stood up, grinning evilly. "Honey, these are better days. Enjoy them," he said, and stood up and turned around. While you were hurling insults at him, he was walking towards the door. The evil man smile we are used to from movies covered his face. Without compromising his indifferent attitude, he acted as if you were not there, opened the door and left you there alone. Until his servants came and untied you.

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