#The Last of us

[celiababy]

Ain't Right part 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel thinks you deserve better.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral f!receiving, cockwarming, size kink, skinny dipping, angsty, kinda asshole/grumpy Joel, mention of alcohol

Celia's note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG. but i threw in that much request angst i hope yall enjoy!!!!! Also happy valentines day!!! peace n luv fr

Aint Right part 1 Ain't Right part 2

Recently, life has been great for you.

Winter was gone as fast as it came, and spring started to take root in Jackson. Your favorite season.

The months that passed since Christmas had been like a dream. You and Joel's relationship had been all unicorns and rainbows—well, to you, anyway.

Finally, you were starting to pry open the gates to Joel's thoughts. Becoming close with him meant so much to you, even when he would off-handedly share information about himself by accident, you'd immediately commit it to long-term memory.

He didn't like to talk about himself much, but when he did, you were all ears.

Joel, on the other hand, didn't have to try as hard with you.

There was a constant flow of words out of your mouth, especially around him. You couldn't help it, really. You talked when you were nervous, and you were always nervous around Joel—that never went away.

But all in all, you were overflowing with happiness.

Joel, however, was feeling a little differently.

Ever since this relationship with you started, he's had this subtle ache about it.

His insecurities of being an old man were eating at him, day by day. His conscious just couldn't stop pestering him with the idea that you deserved better.

He felt that by being intimate with you, as much as he liked it, was holding you back from living your life.

By allowing you to indulge in this relationship with him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was setting your life up for failure.

He was picturing some White Fang situation where you were some wild animal that was getting too close to him, and in order to prevent you from getting hurt by domestication, he'd have to throw rocks at you and tell you to 'go on an' git'. Even though he deeply cared about you.

These insecurites really came to the surface whenever you two were in bed together.

He was 56 years old, for crying out loud. He had two rounds in him max, anything more might give him a heart attack.

He'd clock the little disappointed pout you'd make when he couldn't go again, even when you tried to act otherwise. He was just in his head about the entire thing—which was so unlike him.

You were doin' things to him, thats for damn sure.

Joel couldn't deny the affect you had on him anymore. You were starting to become a top priority; he was unable to stop himself from putting you first.

How was it so easy for you to become to important in his life?

He pondered this thought while coming back from a supply run, riding in on horseback. The sound of hooves crunching twigs and rocks was an oddly theraputic sound, one that helped stop him from thinking so much.

Upon his return, Joel drops off his supplies and guides his horse back into its stable. He gives it a few loving pats before leaving, walking down the main road with the breeze in his hair.

His eyes scan the people crowding the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite face.

And he does.

Eventually, Joel spots you, helping an older lady up her porch steps. You’re smiling, eyes sparkling like everything in the world was all fine and dandy.

It never got easier seeing you wear cooler clothes in public.

Sure, he's seen your naked body plenty of times, but there was something about you in a tank top, jean shorts and cowboy boots that just did things to him.

His heart tugs in his chest as he watches you complete the kind act, skipping back down the steps once the lady waves you goodbye.

That’s when you see him, across the street, just staring at you.

Your face lights up like fireworks when you notice. It always did. But Joel never got tired of seeing it.

He watches you jog his way, nearly running straight into him but managing to stop yourself last second.

“Hey! How’d that run go?” You ask, beaming up at him and trying your hardest not to smack his lips with yours.

“Good.” He nods, clenching his jaw.

Jesus, you looked so good right now—Joel was having a very hard time focusing on what to say when you were distracting him with your bangin’ bod.

“Good.” You copy, finding a moment to assess him. He seemed tense, more tense than usual. Joel knows you’re about to ask him what’s wrong—and he can’t face that question right now.

So he speaks before he knows what he’s saying. “You should come out with me again, next time, I mean. Actually try n' help instead of.. flirt.”

He's disgusing his intense feelings for you with an insult, because of course he is.

You scoff at his diss, rolling your eyes. “You loved my flirtin’.” You copied his texan drawl to mock him, earning you a glare.

“Well, I’d love to. Is it a date?” You purr, stepping into his personal space, prompting Joel to make quick use of his self control.

If he could act on his impulse, he would have bent you over and fucked you right there on the sidewalk.

He clears his throat before nodding. “Sure. Tomorrow. It’s a date.” He bites out like it pains him, because in truth, he'd rather take you out to dinner or something than another stupid supply run.

You’re smiling again, swaying on your feet. You make a few glances around to make sure no one’s watching before popping up and kissing him on his cheek.

“Kay, see you then." You chirp ever so sweetly, walking away in your small jean shorts.

You were really tugging on his heart strings.

When tomorrow comes, you're sitting on your porch swing, waiting for Joel to come and get you.

You were excited—mainly because you two would be out of sight from prying eyes. You could act on all your impulses.

You didn't mind people figuring you two out, you're kind of sure they already had, but you felt that Joel did care, and you wanted to respect his boundaires. Even though he never made those clear.

But, you felt you were pushing it with that kiss on the cheek yesterday, and you didn't want him upset with you.

The sudden thought made you worry.

Maybe he was upset with you. He did glare at you yesterday.

You probably did something, your anxious mind tells you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts due to the sound of hooves clopping against the road. Looking up, you're met with the pleasure-inducing sight of Joel.

He's walking with a horse beside him, holding its lead with a trained hand.

He's wearing that faded gray shirt and those jeans that seem like they're hanging on by a thread. So casual.

But, then you take a closer look at his appearance. He...trimmed his beard and attempted to slick back his hair...?

...Was he trying to look nice for you?

"Did you get all pretty for me?" You ask with a giddy smile, skipping down your steps.

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath before rolling his eyes. Yet, you swear you can see the faintest bit of blush on his cheeks. "You ready to go?" He asks, gesturing to the horse.

He's trying to change the subject, but you need to let him know you appreciate his efforts.

"You look really good, Joel. I mean—you always look good, but today especially." You bring your hand up to feel his hair, smiling happily. He can tell you're being geniune, but he's never been good with compliments.

"Thanks, sweetheart—now get on the damn horse." He sounds exasperated, but theres a small smile on his lips.

He helps you up onto the back before climbing on himself. "Wrap yer arms 'round me. Don't fall off." He murmurs, steering the horse towards the gates.

You slide up so that your chest is pressed against his back, and outstretch your arms to wrap around him. Once you two successfully leave the town and no one is watching, that's when you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade.

It's cozy. It's intimate. It's Joel.

You could fall asleep against him like this.

He remains silent because he knows how peaceful you feel right now. He wants to let you enjoy the moment.

You're admiring the forest scenary, occasionally resting your eyes. You don't know where Joel is taking you—maybe he's heading straight towards the middle of nowhere to drop you off and leave. Getting rid of you probably would've been in his best interest.

You're smiling at the thought because you know yourself. Even if he did do that, you'd find a way back to him. Like a loyal dog.

"Wait," Your voice cracks through the silence. Joel stops the horse, turning his head back to look at you. "Is that a lake?" He turns his head to where you're looking, his eyes catching the blue water that you're so enamoured by.

"Don't know what else it would be."

You roll your eyes at his smartassary. "...Can we go?"

"To the lake?" He reiterates, a confused look on his face. "'N do what?"

You shrug your shoulders, feeling stupid for asking all the sudden.

Immediately, Joel notices how you shrink into yourself. He wants to punch himself in the dick because he's being an asshole.

To fix his mistake, he makes a clicking sound with his tongue and steers the horse down to the body of water.

You're giddy again in no time, a soft but excited squeal escaping your throat.

He manages to find a small clearing within the brush; open tall grass, a fallen tree trunk perfect for sitting, and direct access to the lake.

"So pretty." You muse, simply in awe of the nature around you.

You didn't really leave town much—only when you had to. So, seeing stuff like this, really meant a lot to you.

Joel gets off the horse and immediately turns to help you down. His hands find themselves on your hips while yours latch onto his shoulders.

He lowers you effortlessly, his grasp lingering for longer than it needed to.

Your skin lights on fire at his touch, dirty thoughts instantly flooding your brain.

The lake, the seculsion, the tension...there was really only one thing you were thinking about right now.

"Hey, what if we just...didn't go on that supply run?" You muse, avoiding eye contact for a moment because no matter how close you've gotten with Joel, he still made you nervous.

He shoots you a questioning look, which gives you the idea to show rather than tell.

You step closer to the waters edge, beginning to take off your boots. Joel's watching with that stern look, but it quickly fades, replaced with lust when you start shedding off your clothes.

First your shorts, then your tank top.

"Let's go swimming!" You say with that happy smile, the one that makes his heart beat soar.

He can't stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your stark naked body.

Not only did Joel enjoy your pert breasts and supple ass, he was also equally obsessed with the not overtly sexual things about you. Your hair, shoulders, collar bone, forearms, the curve of your spine—everything, he was consumed by it all.

He realizes that he needs to answer you, but all that comes out is a scoff.

"Hey—no. We don't know what the hells in that water." He huffs as his boner peaks through his jeans.

"Fine, guess I'll swim alone then." You say nonchalantly, knowing if you went in, odds were, Joel wouldn't be far behind.

And you were right.

As soon as you enter the cool water, you see Joel starting to undress in the corner of your eye.

You pretened you're not watching, and eventually he joins you in the lake.

You've waded out rather far into the water, waiting to speak until you know Joel is close.

"Doesn't it feel nice?" You ask, letting your body float above the surface, limbs outstretched while you stared up at the fluffy clouds.

If you could do this forever, you would. Naked as the day you were born, floating in warm spring water with Joel's company—maybe this was heaven.

Sure felt like it.

You almost don't even notice Joel's palm run up your shin and thigh, only when his hand lightly drifts over your lower stomach, is when you become all too aware.

Yet, he doesn't venture south.

Instead, he makes a path further up your stomach, then your ribs, then the valley of your breasts, until he rests his hand over your heart.

You stare at his face as he completes this insane act, completely baffled at the fact that he seemed so entranced and calm, while you were trying not to freak out.

He notices your stare, and finally meets your eye contact. No words leave his mouth—he can't seem to find any that feel right.

But he's thinking about how beautiful you are. How sweet and doting, how smart and witty. Everything about you encompassed into a few short words just didn't feel worthy enough.

But you can't just leave things the way they are.

Slowly, you situate yourself around him, attaching to his body like a koala bear. Your arms slide around his shoulders while your legs wrap around his waist.

Skin to skin, face to face, so fucking intense.

Joel's strong arms find themselves around your torso, keeping you close to him.

"Yeah, it does feel nice." Joel replies, his voice soft, his eyes even softer.

You smile, big and geniune, a feeling of bliss taking over you. "Isn't this so much better than some silly supply run?"

Joel rolls his eyes, which spurs you on even more.

"Come on, admit it; you'd rather be out here with me, than some stinky convience store looting pills." You tighten your legs a little around his torso, feeling your cunt become flush with his bare stomach.

You feel a surge of pride when his breath hitches and his erect cock prods at your ass.

But it doesn't take long for his expression to fall back into its natural scowl.

"M'not admitin' shit." He murmurs, bringing a hand up to move your wet hair over your shoulder and onto your back. It's an absentminded motion, one that Joel isn't really thinking about doing.

He just felt the urge to touch you.

You giggle at him, dropping your forehead to his shoulder to laugh.

Joel huffs, trying to stop smirking because your giggle is contagious. "Quit." Is all he says, shaking his head. "Can't believe you got me out 'ere doin' this shit." He grumbles, adjusting his hold on you slightly.

"What 'shit'?" You mimick him and his texan drawl, earning you a stern glare.

"Naked in a lake like m'some fuckin' teenager." He speaks with an unamused expression, before his eyes land back onto you and his gaze softens. "What're you doin' to me, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question, but he says it like he's truly desperate for an answer.

You're not sure how to respond. His eye contact is making your brain all foggy.

It's silent.

You can only hear the rustling water, your breathing, and the general nature sounds in the distance.

Joel knows he confused you with his words, so he takes a moment to look away.

"Alright," He huffs out eventually. "Time to go."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest because he's already walking back to the shore, his arm remaining secured tightly around your back, basically carrying you.

You're not ready to leave, but you know Joel is, so you just opt for a dejected sigh.

He lets you back down on your feet when you're both on the grass, lingering his hand on the small of your back when he picks up your clothes. He uncrinckles your shirt before opening it up so you could easily put it on.

"This is becoming a habit of yours." You murmur softly, putting on the tank top and cringing at the way it sticks to your wet skin.

"Mm?" Joel doesn't know what you're referring to. He's never realized his pattern of clothing you. It was a simple act, but one you found endearing.

"Nothin'." You chirp, sliding on your shorts and boots.

Joel looks at you assessingly while buttoning his jeans back up, sucking in his stomach to zip them.

You're looking right back at him, admiring the way his wet hair looks, how the grays peak out in the most perfect way.

In a nervous manner, you shift on your feet, sliding your hands down into your jean pockets. "You sure you don't wanna...fool around?" You muse, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

Joel smirks down at the ground as he continues to button up his shirt, shaking his head.

"You're too late kid, should've asked when we were naked." He's teasing, walking back over to the horse and gesturing for you to come.

You groan out, dragging your feet as you walk over to him and the horse. You were being dramatic, and Joel see's right through it.

"Quit whinin'. C'mon," He mutters, grabbing you by the hips to hoist you back onto the saddle.

"You're no fun, old man." You mumble, which freezes Joel in his tracks.

He doesn't know why, but that one off-handed comment ignites a blazing string of destructive thoughts.

As if he wasn't already insecure enough about being old and no fun.

His brain is jump-starting the self-depricating train of thought he had grown accustomed to, only this time, it had more fuel because you unknowingly confirmed it.

Of course, that isn't what you meant at all. It was just a teasing little comment, one you didn't think twice about. You weren't actually upset—at all.

Nevertheless, Joel's already in deep.

Slowly, he swings himself behind you onto the horse, grabbing the reins and starting forward.

You're quick to notice his demeanor, but choosing to keep your mouth shut.

The entire ride back is silent.

It was just like the ride there, only with a more suffocating air.

You have an inkling, but you have no idea the extent of his turmoil behind you.

Eventually, you two make it back to the stables. Joel helps you down from the horse, moving like a robot with no facial expression.

He's got that look in his eye that worries you. Every atom in your body wants to ask him what's wrong, but you also don't want to pry.

However, Joel would never open up to you unprompted. So, you at least try.

Your hand drifts upwards to his face, smoothing some of his hair down by his ear. "Is everything okay?" You finally ask, your voice purposefully soft and light so you don't startle him like he was some wild animal.

He inhales through his nose and clenches his jaw.

Oh.

Something was really wrong.

Your gaze goes from slightly weary to concerned in a flash, nervously biting down on your lower lip. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You ask, very evidently willing to do whatever he needed.

Joel had never been good with emotional timing. At the end of the day, he was still a man.

“We’ve gotta stop this.” He blurts.

You’re still for a moment, confused with his abrupt and vague words. You wait patiently for an elaboration.

Eventually, one comes, to Joel’s own dismay.

“We can’t see each other anymore—not like this.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

And then another.

You’re frozen with dread.

It’s like your body has forgotten all functions as you sit there and stare at him.

Surprisingly, the only thing you’re able to think of in this life changing moment, is the Christmas party at Maria and Tommy’s.

You’re thinking about how Joel fucked you in the guest bedroom, and how he said he didn’t want you having sex with anyone else.

You remember how happy you felt—like you two were exclusive or something.

How stupid were you?

With a quick intake of air, you swallow and look away.

“Did I do something wrong?” You croak, your voice akin to a wilting flower.

Joel is wracked with guilt the moment he hears you. But his mind is forcing him to do this.

“No—no. You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. This is all me, I fucked up and let this go on for too long.”

His answer provides no relief.

“But, I thought we—I thought you liked me?” You’re stumbling over your words because you’re so distraught, trying to blink away your persistent tears.

Shit.

Joel can hardly look at you. He would crumble and die if he did—the sadness in your expression is like several stabs to the gut.

Truth is, he did like you.

Thats why he wants to end things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can manage, head hanging down to look at the dirt.

You’re not looking at him either, instead opting to blankly stare at one of the horses in the stable.

“So,” You start, your voice cracking because you’ve started crying at this point. “You don’t wanna hook up, does that mean we can still hang out?”

Joel takes a big deep breath before answering.

"It would be best if we didn't see each other at all." Finally, he makes eye contact with you, and immediately regrets it.

You look like you've just been shot, for christsake—might as well have.

It was like he just tore your heart out, threw it to the ground, curb-stomped it, and kicked it down a gutter.

"Okay," you murmur, nodding slowly, trying to seem some-what chill about things. Inside, however, it was like World War III. "Uhm, I'm just gonna go home." Your voice is a croak, and Joel watches with the utmost remorse as you walk away.

It feels like shock.

Was this a break up? Were you even together in the first place? Why didn't he want to see you at all? Questions, questions, and more questions rattle in your brain as you shuffle away, hands shaking and eyes pouring.

You look down at the ring Joel gifted you on your finger, debting whether you should take it off or not.

Joel feels awful.

And it's not like the awful he felt the very first time he regected you—this time it's far more painful. It's a deeper wound, an uglier, gross, puss-infested cut that keeps getting worse the farther you walk away.

He thought he'd feel some relief.

He thought that after ending things, he would be rid of that nagging voice in his head.

But no, it remained.

Only now, it barked thoughts of wrong-doing.

'Why would you do that? Things were going great, you've fucked everything. You just broke her heart—’ and it goes on and on and on.

For a moment, the panic he feels registers in his mind as a heart attack. Thats what it felt like, anyway.

He has to brace himself against one of the wood beams in the barn, aggressively rubbing his chest to try and get his heart rate normal. Joel loses his breath in the process, not realizing that he's having a panic attack.

Whatever happens next, you don't see.

You never looked back after you walked away. *** "I don't know why you're all caught up about this, Joel." Tommy admits, a disappointed expression on his face.

Joel glares at his younger brother from the bar top, clearly disgruntled by Tommy's inability to understand his side of the situation.

It had been exactly 17 hours since Joel cut things off with you. He'd been drinking for at least 10 of those hours.

Somewhat drunkenly, he had told Tommy a very short and curt version of what happened.

But he got the picture. Tommy sighs, hanging his head for a minute before bringing it back up to speak again. "All m'sayin' is, it's the end of the damn world, Joel. Her 'future' ain’t graunteed; she'll be lucky if she makes it past 30 with the way things are. She's been 'round long enough to know that herself, n'for some fuckin' reason, she wants you—"

"She don't know what the hell she wants."

"See—that's where you're wrong, Joel." Tommy slams the whiskey glass that he was cleaning down on the bar, fed up and frustrated. "I've known 'er longer than you. She's a smart girl n'you're sellin' her short. Wake the hell up." He bites out before walking away, clearly finished with the conversation.

He had been watching and listening to Joel mop and groan about it all day and night—he had enough.

Other than the anger from being talked to in that manner welling inside of Joel, there was also a moment of clarity.

As much as it killed him to admit, Tommy was right.

He was selling you short.

The world is too ugly and fucked up for him not to act like everyday might be his last. He would be stupid to not just settle down and be happy with you for however long he had left.

Shit.

All alone in Tipsy Bison, Joel was slowly beginning to realize how majorly he screwed up.

He ruined things because he was too damn scared.

He didn't think there was a worse feeling than this—dealing with this huge fucking mistkae.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to come back from how things ended.

That look that you had in your eyes...Fuck. Joel didn't think he even deserved a second chance.

But goddammit if he didn't try.

After throwing the rest of his whiskey back, Joel got up from the barstool and hurriedly walked out, slamming the doors behind him.

He marches all the way to your place, ignoring whoever tried to talk to him on the way.

He had to do this. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't.

Finally, he makes it to your quaint little home, haulting in front of it. There is some imaginary force stopping him, something pulling him back.

It's that nagging voice in his head again, the one that caused this whole mess in the first place.

But this time, he ignores it, and trudges up your porch steps.

Joel knocks rather forcefully, his jaw clenching when you don't answer within seconds.

He bangs on the door again with his fist, hard, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

When you still don't answer, he enters anyway with your spare key (he always kept it on him), calling out your name as soon as he steps inside.

You hear him from your bed upstairs, though you honestly think you're hallucinating. You've been crying for hours, the only sound in your ears were your sniffles and sobs.

His heavy footsteps seem to get louder and louder, and when he calls out your name outside you're door, that's when you realize you weren't hallucinating at all.

You sit up just as Joel opens your door, your eyes wide with shock and tears.

He takes a couple steps inside before he sees how utterly devastated you looked. The sight of you renders him immoveable.

He feels…like the biggest asshole-asshat-douchebag-fuckwad-dickhead thats ever walked the planet.

“Why…are you here?” Your broken voice asks, trying your best to hold back tears.

Even after all he did, you still spoke so softly, all your respect for him still there.

He had talked himself up the entire walk over, but all his words were dying on his tongue.

He was beginning to think that there was nothing he could say that would make what he did right.

“Babygirl I—”

He sees you psychically flinch at his voice, and it makes his heart break all over again.

His feet carry him to the edge of your bed, hands coming out to hold your face.

You’re not sure how to process his touch, not sure how to process any of what’s happening, but you’re trying your best.

“I was wrong,” his thumb is wiping off the tear stains on your cheeks, a forced gentleness to his touch. “So fuckin’ wrong, babygirl. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing his words, you can’t stop the floodgate of your tears. You start bawling, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

“I was so scared.” You cry, bringing your hands up to latch onto him. You wanted to explain more, explain why you were scared—because having Joel and then suddenly not having him, was like ripping your heart out.

He can’t scoop you up in his arms fast enough.

He gets in the bed with you, lifting you onto his lap while he cradles your head to his chest, kissing the top of your scalp.

"M'not lettin' you go. I promise." He husks, his grip on you strong.

And Joel kept this promise.

He held you the entire night, ensuring that you were secure and warm.

In the morning, you immediately asked what changed his mind.

"I was frustrated." He starts, exhaustion etched into his face. "I couldn't understand why you wanted me. Felt I was keeping you from some great life—a young husband n' some white picket fence. But..life here is probably as good as it's gonna get. And this," He looks to the both of you, alluding to the relationship you shared. "Is really fuckin' good."

Your heart is crumbling at his confession.

Discovering that he spent so much time insecure about things, both infuriated and saddened you.

When you were about to respond and explain away his worries, he speaks again.

"M'not lettin' you go. What I did was a mistake. M'sorry."

You're crying again, sniffling softly against him.

"You should've just fuckin' talked to me," You whimper, burying your face into his neck. "I could've—”

"Ain't nothin' you could'a done. You never did anythin' wrong." Joel reassures, pulling you from his shoulder so he can look at your face. "You gon' forgive me?"

"Obviously," you mumble, looking at him with a fake frustrated expression. "I meant it when I said I've always been yours."

And just like that, things were resolved.

You brought your hand down to grip his flannel, sighing into his chest. Joel also sighed in relief, realizing that you weren't going anywhere.

To raise the spirits in the room, you crane your neck up to look up at him, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"M'still mad at you. How are you gonna make it up to me?" Initally, you weren't really insinuading anything sexual—you were thinking he could take you for dinner or ice cream or something.

But Joel has something different in mind.

He gently grabs your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you how he wanted. His tongue is warm in your mouth, his mustache prickly against your face.

When he breaks away, you're out of breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I got an idea." Joel mumbles, carressing your jawline with his thumb.

Slowly, he sits up only to position himself between your thighs. With his calloused hands, he slides his palm up the planes of your legs until he reaches your pants.

You shiver when he dips his fingers under your waist band, pulling them down agonizingly slowly.

"This okay?" He asks in a gentle tone, one that makes your stomach do flips.

"Yes," You say immediately and breathlessly. "Very okay."

The corners of his mouth turn up to resemble a smirk, before his gaze returns back to the area between your legs. He runs his fingers down your clothed slit, feeling the way your wetness coated the stringy fabric.

You let out a soft gasp, slightly bucking your hips, hungry for more of his touch.

He plays there for a while before finally taking your underwear off, setting it somewhere on the bed.

Joel inhales through his nose when he sees your glistening cunt, trying to not cum in his pants at just the sight. He doesn't stop his impulse to pull your folds apart, running his thumb along your lips.

He's being so slow and gentle—it’s making your heart rate each dangerous levels.

His thumb then ventures up to lovingly rub your clit, his eyes scanning your face to watching your reaction.

Your legs are shaking as you kept them apart for Joel, your hands fisting the sheets as you cope with the sensations he's allowing you.

Your chest is heaving up and down and your eyes are glazed over with a hazy fog—one that Joel loves to see.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel lowers his head and connects his lips to your clit.

The act makes you jolt, mostly because you weren't expecting it.

His tongue laps at you, slowly at first, but then something shifts in Joel.

It's like the hunger for your cunt overwhelms him, and his grip on your thighs tighten. Within seconds, he's devouring you like a man starved, licking long strips up your cunt before focusing on sucking your clit.

You can't stop the moans and mewls slipping past your lips, and you don't really want to. You want Joel to know how good he's making you feel.

"OhhhfuckJoel," You whine, shooting your hands down to grab his salt and pepper hair. He focuses solely on your bundle of nerves with his tongue, using his fingers to give your desperately empty hole some attention.

When he slides two fingers inside, you effectively fall apart.

Tear prick in the lining of your eyes, your thighs clamp around his head as you cry out his name.

The fact that he's never eaten you out before and he's been this good at it the entire time, felt criminal. You honestly might've been more offended that he waited so long to reveal this talent than when he tried to end things.

"Dontstopdontstopdontstop," You sob, feeling yourself reach that climax you craved.

You come with a loud moan, and Joel lets you ride it out on his tongue and fingers.

When your body goes limp, thats when Joel lets up. He brings his head out from your legs and slips his digits out of your spasming hole.

You mewl at the feeling, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" You asks, voice quiet and cracked.

"M'fifty-six years old—been around the block, babygirl." He's face is glistening with your juices, and his mouth is wearing that lopsided smile of his. It makes you wanna smile back.

"...Damn. So I'm not the first, huh?" You huff, not upset in the slightest, just wanting to tease him a little.

He chuckles and unzips his pants, letting his cock slap against his stomach. "No sweetheart, you ain't the first." He rasps, effortlessly manhandling you to straddle his lap. "But you are gon be my last."

His hands caress the plush surface of your hips, kneading them like dough while his eyes scan your face.

You're blushing so hard, your face probably looks like a spanked ass.

He really did have a knack for leaving you breathless with those one-liners of his.

You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, looking back down into his big brown eyes. All you can do is stare, because your brain is too focused on how hard your heart is beating to come up with a response.

"What? Now you ain't got nothin' to say?" He husks, his massive palm venturing down to your grab and squeeze your ass. Your back straightens and your lips part like you want to say something—but you're not quite sure what. "C'mon, use those pretty lips."

An idea pops into your brain.

"I'd rather use these lips," You whisper close to his mouth as you raise your hips up to hover over his member, slowly dipping his tip inside your warm hole.

"Fuck," Joel grunts, exhaling through his nose.

You grin at his reaction, lowering yourself down further with bated breath. You watch as his head lolls back and his grip tightens on your waist.

"What? Now you have nothing to say?" You mock, even though you're equally as breathless as he is.

He flashes you a glare before sliding a hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand doesn't let you break away from his lips, and you don't plan to.

His tongue establishes dominance in your mouth, which you eagerly let happen. It's passionate, deep, bordering on punishing—sometime during, he manages to rip your top off, leaving you completely nude. But sooner or later, you both decide breathing might be a good idea.

You break away, chests heaving, mouths panting.

Eventually, you sink all the way down on him, giggling deliriously when you make eye contact again. You decide to forget your fake little fued, nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Have I ever told you how big your dick is?" You mewl, squirming your hips around a bit but not lifting them up and down. It has Joel reeling.

His hands are holding you so tight, you're sure that it'll leave a bruise. "No," Joel huffs out rather distractedly, his eyes laser-focused on the way your cunt is gushing all over his lap. But you swear you can see the faintest blush on his tan skin.

"Well—your dick is real big." You whisper nearly inaudibly, making Joel snap his gaze back to your face. A lazy smile curls at your lips before you begin dragging you tight cunt up and down on his violently erect cock.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief, as he often does, but is unable to answer becase the feeling of being inside you is rendering him speechless. His hand absent-mindedly dips down to rub your clit—the act has you doubling over onto his shoulder, starting to bounce on him like your life depended on it.

"OhJoel, Iloveitsomuch," You blabble into his ear, noticing how he had taken the reigns at this point. He was manually lifting your hips, bringing them down with intense vigor.

He was stretching you out so good and his tip was so fucking deep—you were having a hard time staying conscious and not going brain dead.

It appears Joel's in the same boat too. "Fuck—you're killin' me." He grunts, bucking his hips up to meet you.

You giggle airily before immediately getting your karma—his dick paired with the position and the way his face looked—your cunt clenches down on him and you cum hard.

Your body jolts as you grab onto him, not expecting him to keep fucking you. But his grip on your hips doesn't falter, and Joel continues to bounce you up and down.

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt. Just letting him manhandle your body and do what he wanted was a surprising relief—even if you did just come.

You're reduced to whimpers and moans as you slump into his chest, letting him ground you and fuck your abused cunt.

Finally, slams you down one final time, unloading deep into your warmth. His groans sound like music to yours hears, especially because you know it's you that's making him feel so good.

He's panting in your ear, slowly starting to move his hands up to wrap around your torso.

He's hugging you before you can register it; his big arms securing you tightly to his chest while you both tried to catch your breaths.

Seconds pass...which turn into minutes, and you're wondering if Joel ever plans on letting you go.

He's made no efforts to remove his dick from inside you—it's soft now, but still buried deep nonetheless.

Your pussy will occasionally flutter around him, which'll earn a soft sigh from his lips.

You place a soft kiss on his temple before straightening your back to look at his face. "You tryin' to make sure your seed takes or something'?" You murmur, that teasing lilt in your voice that Joel is all too familiar with.

"Somethin' like that." He mutters into your chest, pulling you down with him to lay on the bed. "Want me to pull out?" He asks after a moment, scanning your face for any traces of displeasure.

You nestle into his chest, hooking your leg over his waist to lodge him deeper inside. "Never."

You and Joel fuck all day, all night and even into the morning. With, of course, breaks in between so Joel can recharge his stamina.

It happens multiple times in your bed, in the shower, on the couch, in the hallway, and even in the kitchen come morning.

Joel was making coffee while you were traipsing around with just his flannel on—humming along to some made-up song. It was like you two were an old married couple; him hovering over the moka pot and you scowering the fridge for some breakfast.

"Blueberry pancakes orrrr...." Joel watches as your head is stuck in the fridge, trying to find ingredients for meals. "Blueberry pancakes."

He snorts. "Surprise me." He huffs sarcastically, knowing he'd be eating a plate of blueberry pancakes.

You grinned and started making the batch, feeling Joel's eyes all over you because of the way his flannel was slipping off your shoulder because it was far too big on you.

His stare was turning you on—so you just bent yourself over the cool surface of the countertop and Joel did the rest.

Eventually, your safari of fun had to stop sometime during lunch. You both had succesfully cleaned yourselves and had started dressing for the day.

"I just told Maria I'd help set up." You murmur distractedly, tying your hair up in the bathroom mirror. Maria was holding a little town party in one of the recreational centers, and asked you, as well as some others to help her with the decorations.

There's a pause before Joel steps into the tiny bathroom, situating himself behind you and sliding his large hand over your stomach. He places a soft kiss to your head before dropping his hands to softly squeeze your hips.

"I'll walk you there."

A beat.

"You will?" He nods in confirmation, which has you turning around to look at him. You smile and tilt your head playfully. "You gonna walk me to first period too?"

Joel immediately rolls his eyes and scoffs, though you swear you can see him smirk.

"Smartass." He huffs out, grabbing your forearms to move you out of the way.

"Kidding." You chime, leaning on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. You weren't sure why you were so surprised by his offer, but you could tell it was a sign of something.

Maybe he wasn't stressed about people finding out about you two anymore. He never said that he was—but you could tell.

And it wasn't like he was embarrassed of you or anything—he's just always been a private person. It wasn't anyone's business who he was falling asleep next to every night.

But you—he'd be willing to change that for you.

When you both are ready, you exit your house, locking the door behind you. You look up to see your neighbor watching as you and Joel descend your porch steps.

You never liked her—gossipy woman who was always sticking her nose in places it didn't belong.

Quickly, your gaze snaps to his face, wanting to see if he was okay or anxious or whatever it may be.

But Joel's just looking right back down at you. "Lead the way, pretty lady." He murmurs lowly, his jaw clenched but his eyes soft.

You smile, and fall into step with him as you both walk down the sidewalk. The birds are chirping, the breeze feels amazing, and Joel is cracking smiles at your jokes.

Life felt good again.

Suddenly, Tommy appears out of nowhere, as he often does, blocking you and Joel's path.

You freeze, trying to keep a neutral face. You still weren't sure how to act around people with Joel, so you were just planning to play if off like you guys were just two buddies walking or whatever.

"Hey," Tommy greets, looking at you and then Joel, his eyebrows pinched together like he was confused at seeing the two of you in the same vicinity.

Oh. He probably knew what happened, or bits and pieces of it.

For some reason, you feel anxious that Joel might be feeling anxious, so you look down at your feet and nervously fidget with your hands.

"What're you two doin'?" Tommy asks, a detective look in his eyes as he shifted on his feet.

Joel clears his throat before looking down and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers with his calloused grip. He can't help but glare at Tommy with a stern face, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

Your breath catches.

Tommy's eyes venture down to your joined hands, then you, then Joel.

After a beat, a sharp and knowing grin spreads across his face.

"Well I'll be damned." THE END.

[millers-angel]

i want to worship his body, every part of him, i’d make him lie in bed, let him finger me while i lick, bite and suck his tummy, making sure i’ve tasted every part of it, while his other hand is guiding my head to his cock and make me gag on it <3

[girlbeatings]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who you hooked up with during your experimental phase in college, giving you for sure the best orgasm of your comphet life, and yet you still fall for a douchbag guy that doesn't treat you as well as you thought he would. poor thing.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that helps you get ready for your wedding with said douchbag, forcing a smile and making sure you looked the part of a future lobotomised, white picket fence house wife. she felt bad for you, you had no idea what you were signing up for by accepting this ring as a sign of your 'love' and 'fidelity'. you'd probably realize way too late in life, maybe late 30s, that this is not what you wanted.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that feels just so sorry for you, that she holds you close and tells you how pretty you look today, the happiest day of your life. "always knew you'd make such a pretty little bride.. i mean, look at you..." her voice trails off as she tilts your chin up to guide your attention to the full length mirror. you did look pretty, the fancy white dress, perfect makeup and hair. perfect.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who stares at you through the reflection and gets an idea. a trip down memory lane, before you walk down the aisle.

"this fucking dress... makes you look so cute," she mumbles, her voice slightly forced as she stares at the lewd scene in the mirror. you pant and tremble, white heels dangling off your toes and the dress bunched up at your hips.

abby groans as she watches your cunt leak around two of her thick fingers, sat between her spread thighs and your back against her chest as you struggle to keep yourself together. "does he fuck you this good, baby? bet his dick isn't as big as mine, huh."

it wasn't, you know that much. abby's fingers with girthy, just two of them made you writhe and squelch, and that fucking strap she whipped out a few years ago had your sexual fantazies in a chokehold. the way you were so soaked that it just slipped in and out of your pussy without any struggle at all, the faux veins rippling against your insides and hitting all the right spots until you couldn't take it— and what did abby do then? she held you down and made you cum over and over.

your fiancé couldn't compare even if he tried, which he didn't. you were lucky if he even looked at your clit, never mind the sort of tricks abby was doing on it now.

"my pretty little girl, all dressed in white..." she murmurs, her fingers tapping firmly on your clit before rubbing in circles, watching your face scrunch up and your hips roll against her hand. "he's such a lucky man."

there's jealousy clear in her tone, because god she wants you. not just your body, she wants your fucking soul. your dna intertwined with her own. but she can't have that, because you don't like girls.

though, your face says different when her fingers stuff you full again. your head's empty at this point, so there's no lame excuse as to why you were happily letting your best friend fuck you minutes before your wedding, your soon to be husband already stood at the altar.

her fingers curl up to find that spot, smiling when your body almost lurches forward off the bed at the singeing pleasure that spikes through you. luckily, abby's arm is locked around your waist, and you stay pressed against her as she finger fucks you just how you remember— maybe even better. she clearly had more experience now. are you jealous?

"gonna fuck every vow out of that empty head." she promises, her thumb starting to abuse your clit in time with her plunging fingers, tears starting to bubble in your eyes as you writhe.

"a-abs, i'm— mmph, abby.."

"i know, wifey... pretty pussy's missed me so much, hasn't she?" she whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck as her hand continues to work perfectly between your spread legs. you know you'd think about this on your honeymoon, you'd think about her when your laid next to your husband, unhappy and yearning for her to come save you. and who knows? maybe after a few glasses of wine with your old college friend, she fucks you until you ruin that marital mattress for good.

happy valentine's day !!

⏦ﾟ♡︎ taglist !

@uhh-lana @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @graciedollie @starrrcane @lilyyx0 @444fernz @tqlepatia @nvr4getme @2012wannabe @jaywritessometimes @jinxedbambi @tohoko @sapphicloverwlw @shadowmythe @fict1onallyobsessed @pornoangelz @milanyas @powderpinkandsweeet @femmecannibal @aeroti @eatencupcak3 @lils-1979 @sobersonder @dozybunny @fawncritter @nahcala @lesbones @sapphicantichrist @ethereaally @ruelezz @90yearoldbear

[bumblepony]

I miss my Queen

Pouring one out for THE BADDEST BITCH.

[00valentina-writes00]

the soft and safe with vi was SOOOO CUTE wondering if you could do that prompt with abby instead?

♡♥︎Let Go♥︎♡

Warnings: reader can’t cum, Abby helps :), fingering

Abby’s hands are warm, rough palms gliding over your soft skin as she presses kisses against your neck. Her body is solid, broad and steady above you, and she smells like sweat, sandalwood, and something uniquely her.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” she murmurs, lips ghosting over your jaw. One of her hands slips between your legs, fingertips teasing up your thigh before finally dragging through your slick folds. “God, you’re soaked, baby.”

You should be lost in this. Abby’s touch, her weight, her voice—it’s everything you love. But something in your head won’t shut up.

You feel too much—too aware of how long this is taking, how your body won’t tip over that edge no matter how good Abby is, how you’re frustratingly stuck in your own head.

She notices. Of course, she notices.

“Hey,” she whispers, slowing down, her free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Where’d you go, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling in your chest. “I don’t—I don’t know, I just can’t—”

Abby hushes you with a kiss, slow and patient, her lips pressing against yours like she has all the time in the world. “It’s okay. Don’t think about cumming,” she says, voice firm but soft. “Just let me make you feel good.”

She doesn’t rush. She takes her time.

Her fingers move between your legs again, but slower now, exploring, learning you all over again. She presses circles against your clit—light, teasing touches, never giving too much at once. She kisses your neck, murmurs how good you feel, how perfect you are, how much she loves touching you.

“I love this pussy, baby,” she groans against your throat, her fingers dipping lower, slipping inside you. “Love how tight you are—so fucking soft for me.”

A shiver rolls down your spine. It’s different now—she’s grounding you, pulling you away from that anxious spiral, making you focus on her, on how good she makes you feel.

Her fingers curl just right, pressing into that spot that makes you jerk, makes your breath stutter.

“There you go,” Abby whispers, kissing along your jaw. “That’s my girl.”

Your hips move on instinct, rocking into her hand, chasing the pleasure that builds in slow, rolling waves. You’re not thinking anymore—not overanalyzing, not worrying. You’re just feeling.

Abby’s thumb presses against your clit at the same time she crooks her fingers inside you, and suddenly, everything snaps tight.

Your breath catches. “Abby—“

She knows.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”

And you do. It crashes over you in a slow, devastating wave, pleasure unfurling through every inch of you. Your body trembles, muscles locking up as you pulse around Abby’s fingers, moaning against her lips.

She holds you through it, murmuring soft praises against your skin, kissing you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“See?” she whispers, brushing sweaty hair from your forehead. “You just needed to let go.”

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Chapter One: Long Time, No Sea

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You and Joel return to Fiji, and Tommy gives you the grand tour of the new hotel.

Chapter Warnings: language, fluff, wedding talk, smut (18+ MDNI), airplane sex, unprotected piv sex, light dom vibes, fingering, food and alcohol consumption, brief mention of OC substance abuse, possessiveness

WC: 6.7K

Series Masterlist

Eight Months Later

You breathed in a deep sigh as you scrolled through your emails in the back of the town car. It was pitch black outside as Richie drove you through the silent streets of Los Angeles to the airport, where Joel's private jet awaited your arrival.

"Don't be checkin' work now," Joel scolded from beside you. When your eyes shifted to him, you scoffed when you saw him doing the exact thing he told you not to do. He glanced up when he heard the noise and smirked.

"I got a company to run. You can relax a few hours til people are awake."

You rolled your eyes, chalking your attitude up to three hours of sleep and very little coffee, then stuffed your phone in your bag.

"It wasn't work, anyway."

"What was it?" he asked, sounding distracted.

"Wedding stuff," you shrugged, letting your gaze drift out the tinted window.

Joel put his phone in his lap and turned to you. "Nadia's buggin' you at this hour?"

Nadia was the highly recommended, very expensive wedding planner Joel had hired. She was wonderful: she had been in the business over ten years and had incredible taste. The problem you kept running into was the fact she was so goddamn detailed. She wanted your opinion on every possible thing, even down to the napkin rings, giving you at least ten different options, most of which looked exactly the same to you.

"I don't think she ever sleeps," you joked.

"What's she askin' 'bout now?"

"Fonts for the menus."

Joel shot you an incredulous look and you giggled. "It's a lot of work planning a wedding for over three hundred people."

"And you're doin' a great job," Joel assured you. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to help you more. I'm gonna be better-"

"No, no, it's fine," you said, cutting him off. But Joel shook his head and pocketed his phone before holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers.

"I'll pick the font. Lemme see."

"You want to pick the font for our dinner menu?" you squeaked. He grinned and nodded, hand still outstretched.

"Can't be that hard. Feels like somethin' I could handle."

You hummed and pulled your phone back out so you could bring up Nadia's email with the attached samples, then handed it over. You bit your lip when Joel squinted and tucked his chin into his chest before relenting and pulling out his glasses.

"You didn't need those to read your emails?"

"I need 'em 'cause all these damn fonts look exactly the same, baby," he murmured while his eyes scanned your screen for a few minutes. Finally, he huffed and shrugged his shoulders before picking one and holding it up. "How's that?"

"Edwardian Script," you read from your phone, then nodded. "Sure. I'll send it back to her."

"Unless you like somethin' else," he began.

"Nope, I love it," you told him as you typed out your reply to Nadia. Then you tucked your phone away and looked at him. "Besides, none of it really matters. I just want you."

Joel smiled and lovingly pinched your chin. "You got me. Always did." Then his lips brushed softly over yours and for a moment, all the stress that had been building up from work and wedding planning melted away.

"We're here, sir," Richie said from the front seat. You pulled away and peered through the front windshield at the dark tarmac where only Joel's plane sat, all lit up.

"You ready to open this damn hotel so we can have ourselves a wedding in a couple months?" Joel asked softly, fingers still stroking your jaw. You grinned and nodded before planting one more kiss on his lips.

"I'd marry you right here at the airport," you said, making him smile wide, "but Fiji does sound a little better, I guess."

Richie parked the town car and immediately jumped out to open your door. You took his hand and thanked him, shouldering your bag while Joel scooted out behind you and shook Richie's hand.

"Keep a good eye on the place."

"Will do, sir."

You threw your arms around Richie's neck and thanked him again with the promise to bring him and his wife something back from the island, then eagerly took Joel's hand so he could lead you to the plane.

A feeling of déjà vu came over you when you greeted the familiar looking pilot and crew. A lot had changed since the last time you found yourself boarding Joel's private jet to head off to paradise. You entered the cabin and dropped your bag on the couch with a tired sigh, hoping that this trip would be a lot less stressful than the last.

It was very early and you were beyond exhausted, so once the plane took off and you got the all clear to unbuckle your seatbelts, you made a beeline for the bedroom to curl up and rest. With a loud yawn, Joel followed, which was how you found yourself intertwined hours later.

When you cracked open one eye, you could tell from the beam of light desperately trying to break through around the circular covered windows that it was later in the morning. The sun had already risen high enough in the sky for it to be bright enough to wake you. It wasn't something you were used to; sleeping in. Even on the weekends, your body was so used to waking up that by seven at the latest, you were tossing and turning. But if you thought you were bad, Joel was worse. He was normally up before the sun. By the time you made your way downstairs, he was typically just leaving the home gym or eating breakfast. So to have him wrapped around you from behind still snoring softly in your ear while the sun shone brightly in the sky, your instinct told you to savor it.

You closed your eyes and leaned back into his hold, burrowing into his chest and soaking up his warmth. With the chaos of the wedding planning and the hotel on the brink of opening in just two weeks, life had been hectic. It was nice to have some time for just the two of you.

It was so peaceful, you nearly found yourself drifting back to sleep, but then you felt Joel's beard tickle your neck. Half a second later, he inhaled deeply and his arms flexed around your middle, tugging you slightly closer. A satisfied groan rumbled in his chest when he woke up enough to remember where you were, and then his lips grazed the side of your neck.

You giggled when his beard dragged across that sensitive spot behind your ear and you felt him smile against your skin.

"Mornin'."

You shuddered at his thick, sleep addled voice. "Good morning," you said sleepily. Your body felt boneless, muscles perfectly relaxed. "How much more time do you think we have?"

With a heavy sigh, Joel rolled back to tap a button on the nightstand behind him. Like magic, a small television quietly emerged from the depths of a dresser situated across the room. Then the screen lit up, showing a tiny airplane arcing over the ocean. On the side of the screen, stats were listed, including how much time was left on your flight.

"Got eight more hours," he said before pressing a soft kiss against your throat. You smiled and closed your eyes when his arms wrapped around you once again, pleased he wasn't in his usual rush to get up and check his phone. But then his hips bumped into you, giving away his arousal, and it dawned on you why he wasn't in a hurry that particular day.

"Do you have any ideas on how we can pass the time?" you asked breathlessly. His fingers began to toy with the hem of your sweatshirt, making you squirm under the covers. Without answering, his hand disappeared up your front. He slid slowly across your belly until he was cupping one breast in his palm, causing you to sharply suck in air through your nose when his thumb brushed over your nipple.

"No bra?"

"I had just rolled out of bed, remember?" you whispered. Joel made a pleased noise behind you before switching to your other breast.

"Can't wait to see you in those bikinis again," he said softly against your ear.

"You see me in bikinis all the time at home," you gasped, eyelids fluttering as he continued to tease you underneath your sweatshirt.

"Ain't the same. You're different at the beach. More relaxed." His lips grazed your shoulder and you whined. You hadn't even realized you were rolling your hips into his as he flicked and rolled your nipples until his other hand flattened out across your stomach to stop you. "You want it bad, huh?" he teased.

You pressed your lips firmly together and nodded. A sigh of relief broke free when he slipped his fingers past your waistband, dipping experimentally through your slit.

"Shit," he hissed, "you do want it bad."

"Joel," you moaned, hand reaching behind to curl around the back of his head. He slipped two fingers inside you, earning a gasp from you both, then slowly began to stretch you open. Every time he withdrew his fingers, he slid them up to your clit, circling it wetly once or twice before diving back inside. As the pressure between your legs grew, each leisurely swirl and thrust pushing you higher and higher, you began to search for his mouth over your shoulder. His lips collided with yours, tongues tangling messily in between your shared moans within the stillness of the cabin.

"Oh, that's it," Joel crooned against your mouth. Your hips were bucking into his hand, chasing your high with little moans that kept getting louder the faster his hand moved. "Give me one, then I'm gonna fuck you so good, you ain't ever gonna wanna leave this bed."

Your orgasm slammed into you, causing your back to arch away from his chest. There was something about the possessive tone in his voice, the authoritative command, assuring you he knew you better than you knew you. He knew what you liked and he knew what you needed. His steady hands were always in control, in every possible way. You loved taking care of him, but you'd be damned if you didn't love it when he took care of you, too.

When he felt your muscles relax and heard a contented sigh leave your lips, he was on you in the blink of an eye. With one quick roll, he had you face down. He reared back and tugged your pants down your legs, tossing them onto the floor before sliding your sweatshirt over your head while you just laid there, still soft and pliant from your climax.

His hands wrapped around your hips, pulling them up while your chest remained pressed against the bed. All at once, he slid his cock inside of you with a heavy groan. You had expected him to fuck you just like that: face resting on the sheets, ass up in the air for his taking, but to your surprise the flat of his hand pushed your lower back down to the bed.

A question formed on your lips but never reached the light of day because he began to move, destroying any chance at finding your voice. His legs bracketed yours, which had been pushed together and stretched straight underneath him, leaving just enough room for his cock to slide in and out of your cunt.

A strangled moan pushed itself past your lips, getting lost in the soft bedding. Joel flopped down, pressing his chest against your back, forearms planted on either side of your head. The angle was so intense and it was nearly impossible to move from the way his body formed a shell around you. All you could do was lie there and take it. Your fingers curled around the plush comforter while his hips rocked against you at a torturously slow pace, forcing you to feel every inch as he murmured filth into your ear.

"How's that, huh? Feel good? This what my girl needed? So full'a me, bet you feel it in your throat." His teeth sunk into your shoulder, pinching your skin at the same time as a particularly hard thrust. It finally made you cry out loud enough that it had him chuckling in your ear, "Flight crew's gonna hear."

It was the last thing on earth you cared about. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed was Joel and what he was doing to pull unfathomable amounts of pleasure from your body.

"S-so go-od," you stammered, eyes rolling to the back of your head while Joel continued to fuck you deeper than he ever had before. You must have looked like an absolute mess. Hair tangled from sleep, now spread out across your pillow in every which way. Eyes all glassy, jaw hung open while you struggled to breathe beneath him, but it wasn't his weight that was stealing all the air from your lungs. It was the slow drag of his cock, forcing you to just lie there and feel.

"I like you like this," Joel rasped in your ear. He began to move a little faster then, hips shifting and angling in such a way that it had your vision blurring and your pulse skyrocketing. "Can tell nothin' else is goin' on in that pretty head other than how good it feels when I'm fuckin' you. Am I right?"

You nodded while lifting your ass just the slightest bit. All you could smell was his skin, all you could feel was his warmth, all you could hear was his deep voice telling you how beautiful you were, how hard you worked and how nice it must feel to just relax and let him take care of you.

His palm slid across the top of your hand so your fingers could lace together, but when he felt the sharp sting of your engagement ring between his fingers, he smirked and started to fuck you a little harder. He fucking loved seeing that ring on your left hand again, but loved it even more that you wore the second ring on your right finger. Call him possessive, crazy... whatever, he didn't care. It could not be any fucking clearer who you belonged to now.

Just then, the airplane hit a small patch of turbulence. The shifting in the cabin caused him to drive his cock deeper inside you, making you gasp and cry out his name.

"Shh, baby," he chuckled, but he kept moving. Your other hand reached back, grabbing a handful of his messy curls, tugging him down into the crook of your neck. His mouth immediately got to work, sucking and biting at the skin there until he left little bruises.

It was overwhelming, to say the least. He was everywhere. His body completely covered yours, trapped between him and the bed, cock buried so deep you weren't sure you would be able to walk out of the room when he was done. And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his lips left your neck to find your mouth, plunging his tongue past your teeth with a groan you felt vibrate against your back.

Your entire body began to shudder when you felt it. That pool of pleasure that had been slowly filling back up was about to overflow. You tried to warn him, but words were hard to come by. Fortunately, his mouth was still seared over yours when it happened.

You might have said his name, or maybe you were just cursing, but either way you knew you were definitely screaming because by the time your orgasm finished crashing over you, your throat felt raw and you were panting for air against his mouth like you had just run a marathon.

"Good girl," he whispered before lifting his head back up. You were grateful for it, the chance to breathe fresh air even while he rammed into you mercilessly for about thirty more seconds, until his body went rigid and he gasped your name, spilling himself deep inside you.

Joel pulled out and sat up, causing your eyes to widen from the sudden loss, and he flipped you back over. His hand caressed your face gently, swiping away tears you didn't even realize were there, as he examined you closely.

"You alright? Was it too much?"

His chest was heaving and his cock was still hard between his legs. He hadn't even given himself a chance to enjoy his release and soften inside you before checking on you.

"I'm good," you rasped, throat still hoarse. Your shaky hand came up to cup his. "Promise. I'm good. Just - holy shit," you whispered, letting your eyes slide closed so you could melt back into the mattress. Joel laughed once he was satisfied you were telling the truth and collapsed next to you.

"You hungry?" he asked casually while unplugging his phone. He bent one leg as he studied the screen, completely naked and unbothered while you were still waiting for your limbs to stop shaking.

"Where on earth do you find the energy?" you asked. His eyes found yours and he shrugged.

"I slept in."

You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief before turning to sit up and gather your clothes. "I'm gonna go wash up," you told him. He made a little noise of acknowledgement as you staggered into the bathroom. When you caught sight of your reflection, you twisted your face in disgust and began to quickly get to work, hoping to make it look a little less like you just had the life fucked out of you before entering the main cabin.

Since you were only a few hours away from landing, you decided to slip on the white linen dress you had picked out. With two fucking rings on your hands, you decided to keep accessories to a minimum and instead just slipped a pair of sunglasses into your purse for later before timidly opening the bedroom door in search of Joel.

As you expected, he was sitting at the table typing away on his laptop. You frowned when you saw he had changed his clothes to a casual short sleeved button down and relaxed khakis.

"Didn't you want to take a shower first?" you asked, sitting across from him. He smirked and shook his head, eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"Nope."

His gaze lifted quickly and he shot you a wink. You laughed and dug around in your duffel bag for a book to read, deciding work could wait.

"What's the plan when we get there?" you asked, leaving your worn paperback on the table in front of you, then reached for a cold bottle of water from the cup holder by the window.

"Tommy's meetin' us at the airport," Joel said, abandoning the keyboard and leaning back into his chair. "He's gonna take us to the hotel. Ain't ready for guests just yet but we're gonna stay in the presidential villa. Wanna take her for a test drive, see if anythin's missin'."

"So, we get the whole hotel to ourselves?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows. Before Joel could respond, a flight attendant emerged from the galley with two plates of covered food. You both made room on the table and she placed them down in front of you.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.

"No, we're all set," you said, looking up to give her a friendly smile. Joel agreed and she quickly made her way back into the kitchen, and it was only then you realized she had been unable to look either of you in the eye.

"You don't think they heard us, do you?" you whispered. Joel had already begun eating, but around a mouthful of chicken he gave you a look and slowly nodded.

"You weren't exactly quiet, baby," he reminded you.

Your eyes widened and your face instantly grew hot. Pressing your palms against your cheeks, you shook your head and groaned.

"Oh my god, tell me you're joking."

Joel just laughed and took another bite of food. "None of their goddamn business, who cares?"

"I care!"

"Then next time I'll just have to put somethin' in that pretty mouth of yours to keep you quiet."

Your ears burned and you gently swatted at him from across the table, making him laugh. It was sweet, really, to think about the last time the two of you were on his plane heading to Fiji and how different Joel was now. Before, he was gruff and very serious, entirely focused on business and not at all interested in having any fun once you arrived on the island. To see him now with a smile on his face and wearing casual clothes in place of a stiff suit made your chest swell with happiness.

"Have you heard anything from Sarah?"

"Not yet, but I warned her I'd fuckin' know if she had any parties while we're gone," he said, then checked his phone for any possible missed calls or texts from his daughter.

"Joel, she's seventeen and she's got a whole mansion to herself for the next two weeks. She's going to have friends over."

"Friends is one thing, but I ain't havin' any boys sniffin' 'round her in my own house while I'm gone," he said sternly. You hid your smile behind your fork, secretly adoring the way Joel had become so paternal in the past year. "'Sides, she ain't alone. I got staff there 'round the clock keepin' an eye on her and the place."

Joel and Sarah's mother didn't have a very pleasant history. After he discovered she had gotten pregnant, she tried to bait him into marriage just so she could have access to all of his money. Joel broke things off with her and closed himself off emotionally for over a decade. He ended up having a difficult time maintaining a relationship with Sarah, as well, but after some encouragement on your part, they reunited. Progress was slow at first, but you didn't expect anything less. Then Joel found out Sarah's mother struggled on and off with substance abuse, something that kept him awake more nights than you could count. After a particularly long night of Joel tossing and turning, you suggested asking Sarah to move in with the two of you, and while it took some time to get used to a third person in the house, you noticed Joel immediately started sleeping better. Sarah still visited her mother often, occasionally even staying overnight for a weekend here or there, but Joel's mind was at peace knowing she was safe.

"Alright," you said, folding your hands on the table after your plates were cleared. "So Tommy's taking us to the hotel - then what?"

"Was gonna have him show me 'round, check on all the progress, see what need's doin' 'fore next week."

"Next week? The hotel doesn't open for two weeks," you reminded him. He shook his head and glanced at his phone when a notification popped up.

"Soft open is next week, so we only get the place to ourselves for a few days," he said, then cocked an eyebrow before adding, "think you'll be able to behave yourself?"

"Me?" you sputtered with your hand pressed to your chest in mock offense. "I'm an angel, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Joel chuckled and turned his attention back to his laptop while you stared out the window, lost in thought.

"So are my parents staying at The Parador?"

Your parents, who had never left the mainland United States, agreed to a vacation only after they found out all expenses would be paid when you made your plans to return for the grand opening. He had told you at the time he thought your mother would want to be involved in the wedding planning, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was his way of trying to score some points with them.

When you told them the news about your engagement, they were shocked, to say the least. It wasn't the reaction you were hoping for but to be fair, you had hardly given them any time to come around after you had begged your mother to give Joel a chance. Since your big news, they hadn't come out to visit once and any time you brought up wedding plans over the phone, your parents got very quiet before ultimately changing the subject to something else.

Joel shook his head. "Booked 'em a nice villa at The Sapphire. Didn't want them to put up with the growin' pains from a new staff. Wanted 'em to be comfortable."

You studied him from over the top of his computer, heart breaking a little bit at the tone in his voice. He didn't like to let it show, but you could tell it bothered him. Part of you wondered if he booked them a trip so he would get a chance to get to know them better and change their minds.

"That was thoughtful," you said softly. Joel just grunted and continued to work, so you stretched your leg out under the table, nudging his knee with your foot to get his attention. When his eyes flickered back up to you, you tilted your head to the side and said, "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, you know. I'm the one spending the rest of my life with you - not them."

The corner of his mouth twitched and you smiled when he said, "I know. Just want them to know how much I love you, is all."

You knew Joel could come off a little brash at first. Hell, your first impression of him wasn't the best. In fact, it took some time before you could see past that hardened, cutthroat businessman exterior to who he really was underneath.

Although... when Joel met your parents, you saw with your own eyes how hard he was trying. He was warm and inviting the entire time your parents were in his home. Their standoffish behavior didn't make much sense, but you chalked it up to the abundant displays of wealth combined with losing their only daughter to an entirely different lifestyle as their reason, and knew deep down that one day they would understand why you fell in love with him.

"Thought your folks were joinin' us, sweetheart," Tommy said from the driver's seat of a beat up work truck.

"Not for a few more days," you replied, tightly pressing your lips together to keep yourself from squealing when Tommy took a sharp, bumpy turn. Joel was in the backseat next to you, hanging onto the door for dear life. If there wasn't a rip in the leather digging into the back of your thigh, you would have laughed at the expression on his face. The old Dodge truck was a far cry from the luxurious town cars or any one of the hideously expensive vehicles currently in Joel's garage back in L.A.

"Aw, that's nice. Got any plans?"

"Uh-" you squeezed your eyes shut when Tommy hit a pothole, then took a deep breath. "Yeah. I was going to take them into town to eat one night, and show them around The Parador so they could see exactly what it is I'm spending all my time on," you laughed. Joel shot you a quick smile before furrowing his brow when Tommy ran a stop sign. "Maybe see if they'd want to do jet skis or check out the fire dancers. I was gonna leave it up to them, but I know they want to do their own thing, too."

"And they'll be plannin' the wedding, right?" Tommy confirmed, quirking an eyebrow at you over his sunglasses in the review mirror.

"Oh, yeah, duh," you laughed, "that, too."

Tommy grinned and dropped an arm out his window, letting his fingers dance on the warm breeze as he drove up the service road behind the hotel.

"Front's just been paved, don't wanna drive on it just yet," he explained when Joel began coughing from all the dirt kicking up.

Finally, he threw the truck into park, the radio and air conditioning cutting at the same time so you could now hear the distant shouts of workmen and power tools coming from inside the hotel.

"Alright, brother... you ready to finally see what all your money's gotten you?"

Joel kicked open his door and slid out, then turned to extend a hand for you.

When you exited the truck, the first thing that struck you was the sheer size of the resort. The parcel of land Joel bought from Glenn was almost ten acres of literal paradise. Through the massive glass windows that were installed practically everywhere so the guests could enjoy the view, no matter where they were. Amongst all the natural foliage, you knew somewhere was a lagoon that had a lounging area built around it for guests, along with four climate controlled pools and six different restaurants, all of which offered outdoor seating. In addition to all that was a private beach, a tennis court, a handful of manmade waterfalls, and a golf course.

And all of that was just the outside.

"Better be good. Those purchase orders were lookin' mighty pricey the past couple months," he grumbled. You squeezed his hand and smiled up at him as you followed Tommy up to the back entrance of the hotel, your excitement contagious and causing Joel to crack a smile of his own.

"Forgot how damn hot it is here," Joel said, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. Tommy twisted around to hold open the door and stepped to the side, allowing the two of you to enter first.

"You're in luck. AC was turned on last week."

The hotel was two weeks away from the grand opening and one week away from the soft opening, so when you entered the lobby, it was far from the construction site you had remembered from previous video calls. Joel had come out by himself a few times, but you hadn't seen the hotel unless it was through a screen. You realized quickly the videos and pictures didn't do the place justice.

"Two story lobby," Tommy said, pointing up like you could somehow miss the massive, sparkling chandeliers hanging above your heads. "Front desk is tucked into the side next to the doors so the guests experience the beauty of the place right off the bat, 'stead of starin' at a desk with computers, just like you said," he continued as he lead you further into the space. Joel nodded and slowly looked around, examining every sconce and white marble tile for any defects while your fingers trailed over the textured bronze wallpaper lining the entire entrance.

Tommy continued to talk, pointing things out and searching for Joel's approval: the deep teal couches and chairs that scattered around the room. The tropical looking café set across from the front desk that carried more blends of coffee than Starbucks. The spotless white flooring and countertops. He even showed you the bathrooms, making sure everything was perfect and up to Joel's standards.

When Tommy finally saw his brother crack a pleased smile with a firm clap on the shoulder, his face lit up with relief.

"Y'did good," Joel told him before releasing his grip and spinning back around. His next order of business was to introduce himself to the hotel staff, who were all adorned in pressed black pants with a matching black shirt that had a flare of deep teal on their breast pocket which matched the lobby furniture. You smiled to yourself as you followed Joel's lead, shaking their hands before stopping in the kitchen to meet more employees. All of the hard work he had put into this hotel, his dream, was actually paying off.

Afterwards, Tommy led you up to the presidential villa, which was in it's own private wing. While you rode the elevator, he explained how each room had a balcony, two flat screen televisions, pillowtop mattresses, blackout drapes, a safe, and a small kitchen area.

"And that's just what all rooms got standard," Tommy said once he stepped off the elevator and fished out the keycard they handed him at the front desk. "'Course, there's different levels, y'know that."

You and Joel exchanged looks behind Tommy's back while he unlocked the door to your room. Obviously, you knew all of that - especially Joel. He was the one who had final say over every detail. But hearing how excited and proud Tommy felt kept either of you from saying a word.

What surprised you first when you entered the villa was, even though you had taken an elevator up a few floors, you still found yourself looking out at the beach through the spotless glass windows. Tommy said something about a hilly terrain being the reason and how much of a pain it was to build around it, but you hardly heard a word because your eyes were drawn to the huge painting hung behind the soft, white couch. It was an exact replica of the painting Joel had bought you the last time you were on the island. Ellie's familiar brush strokes of soft pinks, blues and whites filled the canvas. You laughed in disbelief before you rushed over to examine it closer, then glanced happily over your shoulder at Joel, who stood back with his hands shoved in his pockets and a pleased look on his face.

"Was hard to keep it a secret but I wanted to surprise you."

You jut out your lower lip and held out your hand for him to join you, your expression softening when you heard the shy tone in his voice. Tommy was across the room, opening up the big glass doors to let in the sea breeze when you took Joel's hand and stood on your tiptoes, giving him a kiss that had his cheeks turning pink.

"I love you," you whispered when you fell back onto the flats of your feet. Tommy began fiddling with the remote for the stereo, talking to himself while Joel gazed down at you adoringly.

"I love you, too."

A year and a half earlier

It had been almost a month without you, but it felt like more. Every breath hurt, he could barely sleep, and forget about focusing on work. It was supposed to be the highlight of his career - obtaining the unobtainable parcel of land in Fiji. Yet he couldn't enjoy it, because his every waking thought was consumed with you.

It was even worse being so far away, back on the island where everything started and ended. Yet he still made sure to pick out the next day's floral arrangement to be sent to your door. It was the only way he could remind you that he was thinking of you, even though you had begged him to stop, he wouldn't, because it was the only way to make sure you didn't forget about him.

Once he picked the arrangement, he emailed it to Liam and with a sigh, dropped his phone onto the table next to his lounge chair.

The sun was beginning to set; casting gorgeous hues of bright orange, pink, and yellow across the sparkling water.

You would have loved it.

He figured it was now or never, so he shucked off his shirt and made his way to the shoreline.

Just like he remembered, the water was warm and crystal clear. He submerged himself up to his shoulders and allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. No matter how hard he tried to relax and enjoy himself, his inner turmoil kept his muscles tense and his mind busy. Why did he have to be such an asshole? Why couldn't he had just spared you both the pain and gotten over his bullshit? You hadn't asked him for much. You just wanted to be let in, you wanted him to trust you with his deepest shame and regrets. But his fear of being judged and losing you was too much.

Ironically, he lost you anyway, so what was the point?

The waves lapped gently over his shoulders and the sound of people packing up their things on the beach drifted across the breeze. He wondered what you were doing at that very moment. Given the twenty hour time difference, it would be around bedtime for you, but the day before. He liked to imagine you getting ready for bed, putting all those different creams on your face and neck before brushing your teeth. He hadn't ever seen the inside of your apartment, so all he could do was remember how you looked getting ready for bed when you stayed with him on the island. You used to hurry into bed and dive under the covers to curl up against him. He smiled to himself at the memory, missing how unexpectedly comforting your presence was to him at night.

Maybe you missed it, too. Maybe you missed it right at the exact same moment.

When he reopened his eyes, the sun had sunk considerably lower and the beach was mostly empty, so he got to work. He walked slowly through the water, using his feet to search for the precious pink seashells to replace the ones he accidentally broke. Every few feet, he felt a cluster of smooth shells with the tips of his toes. It took almost ten minutes, but he finally was able to collect a decent amount. He waded back to shore, arms full amidst the twilight. Once he got back to his towel, he noticed a good portion of the shells were broken or cracked. He tossed those into the sand, only keeping the ones that looked absolutely perfect.

When he was satisfied, he wrapped them carefully in a spare towel and collected his things before heading back to his room.

He wasn't stupid. He knew seashells wouldn't fix everything. But he was hoping the gesture was enough to show you how much he cared.

Maybe it was a start.

Present Day

Joel trailed after you as you drifted from room to room, then grinned when you squealed at the master suite, which was right off the sitting room. He hadn't told you yet, but the presidential villa was going to rebrand into the honeymoon villa. He had created it with you in mind and based on the way you were jumping with excitement when you saw how a private garden and a courtyard filled in on either side of the glass walls surrounding the spa bathtub, he did a good job.

"Joel, this room is insane," you grinned. He stood next to the tub while you skipped down the galley-like closet until you reached the opposite side, turning around in the entryway of the bedroom and bathroom.

"You like it?"

"I love it!"

Joel smirked and nodded before strolling past the tub, into the bedroom. You followed on the other side, staring in awe at the floor to ceiling glass French doors that opened out to the infinity pool.

"I can't believe we get to spend two weeks here," you breathed. Joel walked up behind you, bending so he could hook his chin over your shoulder and wrap his arms around your waist.

"We can come here any time you want."

You giggled when his stubble brushed over your skin, tickling you.

"How about we come back here in a couple months?" you asked, leaning into his hold and letting him sway you back and forth. "Maybe get married or something?"

Joel chuckled into your skin, giving your shoulder a kiss.

"There's nothin' I want more."

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[suzdin]

Home Is Wherever I’m With You

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After the tragic loss of your father and home, you find yourself at the mercy of a cold, detached stranger who holds your fate in his hands during a violent snowstorm.

Notes: okay fair warning, I started writing this when I was feeling extremely low, and finished it several weeks later when I was doing better, so if it seems disjointed and sloppily thrown together, that’s why! But I swear there’s a happy ending!

Warnings: ANGST!!! I cannot stress the amount of angst. Suicidal thoughts and ideation, especially at the beginning. Alcohol consumption. Main character deaths; all of them. Lots of depression and poor mental health, mostly with Joel. Angsty!Joel, asshole!Joel, soft!Joel, semi-dom!Joel, protective!Joel, masturbation (m), oral (f receiving), face riding, unprotected p in v, creampie, biting/marking, pregnancy heavily hinted at, more angst

Word Count: 7,100+

dividers provided by: @saradika-graphics ❣️

Tags: @ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @berryispunk @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept @natdeandar @guelyury @daddy-dins-girl

Joel crouches in front of the old cast iron stove, his knees groaning in protest as he stokes the embers within using an extra scrap of wood.

He doesn’t know why he’s going through the trouble. It isn’t like he’ll be around much longer. Maybe he just wants to feel warmth one last time before he does it. And this time, he won’t miss.

He’ll be cold soon enough anyway.

He gets the fire breathing again, closing the hatch and settling back into the old leather recliner in the corner, worn and cracking with age, much like himself.

He palms the neck on a bottle of bourbon, taking a hefty swig and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his face crinkling in rumination as he watches the flames dance behind slats of iron.

Sarah. Tess. Tommy. And then Ellie. He had failed each and every one of them; those he claimed to love, who he vowed to keep safe. He had let them down. He had let himself down.

He takes another pull on the bottle and sets it down heavily on the table next to him, replacing it with his Smith & Wesson, heavy digits curling around the grip.

He traces the scar on his temple with the point of his index finger, feeling the faint indentation in the flesh; a constant reminder of yet another failure.

He lowers his hand back to the revolver, finger circling the trigger guard, dark eyes downcast as he attempts to summon the strength to do what he needs to do. Again.

His hand tremors as he lifts the gun and presses the cold barrel to his temple, thumb cocking the hammer back with a hollow metallic clunk that resonates through his skull and soul.

“C’mon, Joel. Get yourself fucking together for once.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched in a deep scowl.

Just do it, Joel. Pull the fucking trigger.

The ball of his index finger curves around the bend of the trigger, twitching with indecision when the back door to the cabin abruptly flies open, temporarily snapping him out of his psychosis.

It’s just the wind. That’s all it is. A gust of wind from the incoming snowstorm.

He doesn’t move from his space on the recliner. The cold won’t matter in a few seconds anyway. He lifts the barrel to his temple again, aligning it just right…

The back door clicks shut. It wasn’t slammed, like the wind would have done had it been the culprit. It very audibly clicked. Like someone or something shut it themselves.

Immediately following the click, he hears the unmistakable scrape of boots on wood, the revolver lowering from offensive to defensive position.

No sooner do you get the door closed that you notice a faint flicker of light from the adjoining room, your heart beginning to thrum like a jackhammer in your chest. From the outside, in your weary state, the dilapidated old cabin looked abandoned as far as you could tell, realizing too late that it isn’t.

But now you’ve stumbled into someone’s den, and they could very well be armed and aiming to shoot. They could even be cannibals for all you know.

You could leave. You could just leave and pretend this never happened. But you haven’t seen any other shelters for miles… and the storm was only going to get worse.

“Who’s there?” a gruff male voice calls out from the other room, breaking through the stifling silence. You go stock still on instinct, your hackles bristled along your spine.

When you’re able to gather your bearings, you respond with your name, your vocal cords numb and strained from the cold.

“I mean no harm. I just need a place to sleep out of the storm. I promise to leave at first light,” you quickly add.

Joel stiffens when he hears a woman’s voice, his finger still circling the trigger guard as it had only moments before when the gun was trained on himself.

“Are you armed?”

“Just a small pistol and a jack knife. And I’m out of ammo,” you call back truthfully.

Everything is quiet for a moment aside from the crackle of flame and the howl of wind that rattles the windows and bends the outer wood. The silence between you and the unseen man feels like it stretches on for ages.

“Approach the door with your hands raised. An’ when I say, slide the gun and knife over to me.”

“Alright,” you reply quietly, approaching the ajar door in front of you, hands already skyward, kicking the door the rest of the way open with the toe of your boot.

You step forward two paces into the room, the scent of alcohol stinging your nostrils, your gaze settling on a haggard looking man in the furthest corner from you. His hair is wild and askew, eyes sunken in like a corpse, recognizing the hopeless glint behind them; no doubt a reflection of your own. A large pistol is clutched in his meaty fist, cocked and aimed.

“Gun first. Then the knife,” Joel says, his brow angled downward in a dark line, shading the even darker set of eyes.

You keep one hand in the air as the other reaches into the band of your jeans, removing the pistol and sliding it to him, stilling as it hits his boot.

He picks it up, discharging the clip to find that it is indeed empty, as you had claimed. He sets it next to the bourbon.

You slide the knife next, an average, run of the mill jack knife with a four inch blade. He inspects it, noticing a few remnants of blood still tarnishing the steel.

“Who’d you kill with this?”

“I used it to skin hares and squirrels.”

His face pinches with confusion, tilting his head at you like a dog hearing an unknown sound for the first time.

“Y’skinned hares and squirrels with a jack knife?” he questions doubtfully.

“It’s all I had,” you explain.

Joel eyes you warily. You’re definitely not dressed or equipped for this kind of weather. The only thing that seems to be keeping you warm is a thin hoodie, a regular set of jeans, and a pair of boots soaked through with snow.

He sighs. He isn’t going to kill himself with you here. He may not be the nicest or most caring man in the world, but he isn’t about to traumatize you. He’ll wait until you leave. You said you’d leave at first light.

In the meantime, he has to deal with someone being in his space, which he doesn’t exactly want to do, especially in his last hours. But he isn’t about sending you to your death, either. You probably have more to live for than he does.

“Here,” he says, kicking an old wicker chair toward you. “Your feet’re soaked. Take off your boots and warm your feet ‘fore you get frostbite.”

You lower your arms and take a cautious step forward, and then another, slowly sinking into the flimsy and rotten chair, bending to unlace and remove your boots.

You try to wiggle your toes but they won’t move, at least not yet. Joel watches with a scrutinizing glare, his hand still on the Smith & Wesson in his lap.

“What’s your name?” you ask him, pushing your boots aside.

“Ain’t important.”

You cast him a look but don’t press, scooting your sore and frozen feet closer to the stove, feeling yourself starting to slowly defrost.

You thank him for letting you stay.

He ignores your gratitude, dark browns drifting over your frame.

“Where’d you come from?” he asks.

“Ain’t important,” you counter, casting him another glance.

He leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees, pinning you with a deep scowl.

“I’m the one with the gun,” he chides in a deep timbre, his tone brooking no room for protest. “Guns,” he quickly amends.

Your eyes lock with his momentarily, assessing his conviction before deciding not to test it.

“A settlement near Billings.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

He leans back, his gaze unmoving, letting out a breath through his nose.

“An’ exactly what prompted you to run out into a snowstorm with just a hoodie and no supplies?” he asks.

You flinch as if he’d just backhanded you, averting your gaze. If you were looking, you might notice his face softening, if only just a hair.

“Raiders came into our settlement. My father… he gave me the pistol and distracted them while I snuck under a gap in the fence. I didn’t have time to grab anything else,” you tell him.

“And your dad?” Joel asks delicately.

“Didn’t make it out,” you reply grimly, your body beginning to tremor, a combination of repressed emotion and your muscles beginning to thaw.

Joel falls silent, absorbing your words as truth. He can’t find a reason that you would lie about something like that.

“I’m sorry,” he sympathizes, his voice gentling.

You bring your knees to your chest, your chin resting between them, arms wrapped around your shins.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice hardly above a whisper.

——

Your eyes snap open, realizing you must have drifted off at some point, finding yourself curled into a fetal position directly in front of the dying fire.

A blanket you’re sure wasn’t there before is wrapped around your frame. You’ve no idea where it came from, it’s a bit scratchy and smells funky, but what matters is it’s warm, subconsciously pulling it tighter around your shoulders when you feel a chilled breeze brush over you through the cracks in the wall.

“Mornin’,” Joel hums softly above you.

“Morning,” you echo, shifting as your eyes scan the room, the cabin just as dark and cloaked in shadow as when you arrived. You’re unsure how he knows what time of day it is, but you decide not to question it.

He’s in almost the exact position in the old recliner as the previous evening, his hand unmoving from the revolver still in his lap. You can’t help but wonder if he had any rest at all, not sure if him watching you sleep should be comforting or disconcerting.

You sit up with a stretch, your joints crackling like twigs as you work out the aches of not only having traveled this far on foot, but also sleeping on a hard wooden floor all night.

Better than freezing to death, you decide.

You scoot until your back is flush with the wall, leaning against it as you silently study Joel.

“Thank you for the blanket—“ you begin, but he quickly cuts you off with a hard glare, nudging your dried out boots to you with his foot.

“Boots’re dry. It’s morning. ‘bout time for you to leave,” he says, his voice low and rough.

It dawns on you that it’s still dark because the storm hasn’t lessened at all, banks of snow clogging the windows and doors, blocking out what little available sunlight there is.

Your brow knits together and you cast him a wary glance, bottom lip trembling.

“But it… it’s…”

“The deal was first light, darlin’, and I’ve given you plenty more than that.”

“Please… just… a few more hours? Until the storm dies down some?” you plead, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes, preemptively threatening to freeze your eyelids together.

He’s silent and contemplative for what you feel is longer than necessary, a muscle fluttering in his jaw.

He knows he should send you away, even if it means a certain death. He can’t have you here, swimming in his grief, prolonging the inevitable.

The other option, of course, is to shoot you and then himself, a swift and merciful death that you deserve far more than he does. His fist tightens around the butt of the revolver, an action that does not go unnoticed by you.

“No,” he says plainly.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” you say, your voice cracking with emotion and desperation, shifting to your knees as you shuffle a few inches closer to his chair. He did give you a blanket, so there is a human being in there somewhere. “I can’t—“

“I can barely take care of myself, much less another person. Ain’t nothing you can offer me, nothing to barter with—“

“I’ll let you keep my gun and knife. Please. Just a few more hours…”

His jaw ticks again. Your odds are already low as is, but liberating you of your only means of defense, your only means of perhaps obtaining a meal, if only a meager squirrel or hare, would completely diminish any shred of a chance you have left.

He could give you his one and only jacket. Not that he’s going to need it after you leave, anyway.

“No,” he says again, more sternly than before.

His gaze is unmoving from yours, the slow, steady circling of his pointer finger on the edge of the trigger guard doing little to settle your nerves, the conflict apparent behind his dark eyes.

You know you don’t have much to offer. You’re not great at hunting. You’d exhausted your entire clip on what barely qualifies as a meal, leaving you with very little sustenance once the bullet had almost completely obliterated any viable meat.

You can’t fight or shoot worth a damn, either. Your father had tried to teach you in vain, his frustration with you growing to a fever pitch over the years, but it had never been your forte.

Because you never thought you’d have to live without him.

You can scout. Gather. Keep the cabin up, replace rotting boards and rusting nails, keep it clean and tidy. But not in this weather, and not for a few months yet.

So you default to the last thing you know how to do well. The only thing you know without a shadow of a doubt you’re good at, if any of the men at your settlement had anything to say about it before they perished.

You inch closer, your tired knees scraping against the dirty, splintered wood, hands trembling as you hesitantly reach toward his parted knees.

He anticipates more begging and pleading. Maybe a sob story or two.

What he doesn’t expect is for your hands to grab his belt, the meat of your palm ghosting over his crotch as you fumble to undo the worn rungs of leather.

His cock twitches instinctively and he can’t recall the last time a woman touched him like this. Made him feel anything but dead inside.

He moves with a sudden swiftness that surprises and startles both of you, the hand not currently on the revolver grabbing hold of your wrist like a striking serpent, his grip biting into your delicate bones so roughly you realize how effortless it would be for him to snap your wrist, should he feel so inclined.

He rises to his feet, dragging you with him and giving you a hard, reprimanding shake, teeth bared inches from your face.

It occurs to you seeing him fully upright like this just how tall, how imposing he is; worn, threadbare flannel stretched to its limits across broad shoulders and thick biceps.

“Christ, woman, the hell is wrong with you? What kind of man do you take me for?” he growls, a subtle twang piping up in his voice, his clenched fist releasing your wrist with a minor shove. You stumble backwards, catching yourself on the wall.

His nostrils flare, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, his eyes slipping shut as he tempers his simmering anger… and something else he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“Fuck,” he grunts, eyes slowly opening again, rough digits carding through his graying curls. “If it means that much to you… you stay until the snow stops, an’ not a second later,” he nearly spits in your face. “Got it?”

When you easily nod in agreement, he stalks out of the room with a huff, every heavy footfall vibrating beneath your feet, slamming the door shut between you, leaving you standing there in the middle of the room, alone and unsure what to feel.

—

Joel goes into the now defunct bathroom, the traditional porcelain toilet that was maybe brand new decades ago currently unusable, the water in the tank and plumbing frozen solid, the pipes under the earth most likely cracked and warped.

He drops trow and leans forward with the flat of one palm against the wall, the other hand gripping himself.

He lets out a shaky breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in, pissing into the cistern he had dug under the cabin two summers ago, a task only made more difficult by the partial erection he now has thanks to your — albeit brief — touch a few moments ago.

“Fuck, Joel,” he sighs as he empties his bladder, his cock only growing stiffer in his hand as he imagines how good your lips would have felt wrapped around him, what kind of pretty sounds you would have made for him.

“Fuck,” he grits again, cramming his painfully hard erection into his jeans when he’s done.

—

Hours turn to days, days to weeks, weeks to months — “until the snow melts an’ not a day later” — spring not far around the corner, the sun growing brighter and hotter in the sky with each passing day.

Joel’s suicidal ideations were still an ever present plague on his brain, though he kept that part of himself tucked neatly away, as he did most things that were personal and private. He never spoke of Sarah, Ellie, anyone. Never talked about his life before Outbreak.

In turn, you never talked about yours either, aside from what you’d told him the first night, too frightened that you might scare him away simply by opening up, by trying to stitch together what little relationship you had with one another.

The more time you spent with him, the more of a burden you began to feel. It didn’t matter how much you helped out, even if you kept a respectful distance between you, especially when he seemed extra bristly or in his head that day. He was always skulking about, his face pinched in indignation in what you were certain was unspoken hatred for you and your existence.

It was early morning and you were at the edge of the valley, the spot near the treeline that was choked with underbrush, gathering pathetically small handfuls of wild strawberries and huckleberries that were just beginning to fruit. Definitely not enough to have much impact on your aching bellies, but it could be supplemental to whatever protein Joel could scrounge up, which hadn’t been much as of late.

You wipe a fresh layer of sweat from your brow despite the air still being bitterly cold, collecting what meager pittance of berries you can, sucking in a breath of air as you steeled your nerves to head back to the cabin.

—

Joel’s door is still closed when you return. Not surprising, considering how early you’d gotten up that morning, Joel likely still exhausted and aching from the ineffectual hunting trip the previous day.

You place the berries into a bowl on the counter, your fingers curling into the peeling linoleum as you stare out the window that overlooks the southern end of the valley, sun cresting through the twisted and gnarled branches of still-bare trees.

You’ve been milling around the idea of leaving for weeks now. You’ve come close to doing so several times, knowing it would make Joel happy to not have you on his mind or in his space anymore.

Your hand hovers near the hunting rifle slanted against the wall, ultimately deciding against it as you tuck your pistol and knife into your pants, tossing half of the berries into a bag and shrugging on the jacket Joel had found for you on a hunting trip.

You take a final glance at his door before sucking in another sharp breath, opening and closing the back door for what you assume to be the last time.

—

Joel hears you return only to leave again a few minutes later. He thinks little of it, something you do frequently throughout the day when foraging or inspecting snares.

He wishes he could express his gratitude to you, thank you for how much you help out. How much you’ve improved his life just by being here. It kills him to see how you shrink away every time he enters the room, but he understands why. He hasn’t given you a reason not to.

Once he’s sure you’re out of earshot, he resumes pumping himself, hips bucking into his fist seconds before spurting hot ribbons of come onto his lower abdomen, eyes rolling back in his skull, your name a curse on his tongue as he imagines your mouth working him over in place of his fist.

As much as he’s wanted to touch you, sink himself into you every night, he’s been too afraid. Afraid to even speak to you, afraid of becoming attached only to lose you, like he’s lost all the others.

—

When you don’t return by mid day, he begins to worry.

He tries not to. He tries to tell himself maybe you decided to forage a little longer than usual, or maybe you’re at the river searching for freshwater clams since the weather is slowly beginning to warm.

Still, he can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That something is wrong.

He finds the bowl of fresh berries on the counter, evident that you had been foraging at least part of the day. But it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t good enough for him.

When you don’t return by nightfall, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that something is wrong.

This isn’t you.

—

Two days pass and you realize just how badly you fucked up.

The berries barely made a dent in your hunger and the only other food you managed to find were a few wild mushrooms that you’re pretty sure weren’t the edible kind, if the half gallon of resulting vomit an hour later was any sort of indication.

You fucked up. You fucked up royally and you miss the cabin. You miss the warm stove and the bed Joel made for you close to the fire. You miss how he always kept you fed and protected, even if you’re certain he hates you.

You miss Joel. You miss his grunts, you miss the way his face pinches when he glowers. You miss what he looks like when he chews, almost like he’s angry at his food somehow. You miss his smell when he comes home covered in grime and sweat from a full day of hunting.

Dusk has fallen on your second day without food or water, your bones feeling like powder and your muscles like jelly. You’re exhausted, head pounding with a combination of fatigue and hunger as you take shelter from the wind in a small outcropping of rocks, wishing he was here with you.

You’ll go back tomorrow, you decide.

—

Joel watches the sun sink behind the horizon of trees, cloaking the surrounding forest in near darkness.

He knows he should stop to rest for the night. Like you, he left in a rush without grabbing much in way of supplies or sustenance, but had been lucky to graze a buck that he was passively tracking while searching for you. He’ll likely find it soon.

He periodically came across fresh deer imprints in the earth, clean tracks slowly changing to drag marks, indicating the buck was either dead or close to death.

But you were constantly at the forefront of his mind. You were his focus. His reason to keep going. His reason for continuing to live.

And when he finds a perfect indentation of your left boot moments before the sun lowers completely from the sky, he knows he can’t afford to stop now.

—

It’s still dark when you wake up, your eyes coming into focus along the faint edges of what you can see, which isn’t much. Some rocks. Some trees.

You shift, rolling to your opposite side to go back to sleep, tucking your hands under your cheek as a makeshift pillow. A breeze blows over you, made stronger by the funnel of rocks, and you shiver, pulling your jacket tighter.

Snap.

Your eyes fly open again, immediately jumping to your haunches as you palm the pistol next to you.

You train your ears toward the source of the sound, somewhere in the trees, listening intently, your mind on shuffle with all the possibilities of what it could be.

It didn’t sound large enough to be a bear. A puma, perhaps, one who didn’t seem to be hunting you, hopefully, due to how loud the sound was.

Infected? A slim possibility. Rare up here, but not unheard of, which left you with the most likely option: it was human.

You attempt to still your breath, your fist white knuckled around the butt of the gun. It’s too dark to see anything, and all you hear is the soft whistle of the wind.

—

Joel registers the sound of you shifting from somewhere up the incline above him, limbs turning to stone as his mind cycles through all the same scenarios as you.

He lost your tracks halfway through the night, finding himself going in circles, so it’s quite possible it’s not you he’s just stumbled upon.

He slowly removes the rifle from his shoulder, lifting it to half mast in case whomever he’s stumbled across is hostile… or infected.

“I’m armed!” he calls out, lifting the rifle to a defensive position with the butt pressed to his shoulder. “I have no beef with you if you have none with me,” he adds.

You swear your heart stops, tears suddenly stinging your eyes with salt.

“J-Joel?” you whimper, almost imperceptible, but it’s just loud enough.

Joel can only react, unthinking, responding on muscle memory alone as he somehow manages to traverse the steep, rocky incline in seconds without eating it.

You jump upright to your feet, despite how weak you are, and before your brain even has a chance to tell your legs to move, you’re struck by a wall of muscle, thick arms coiling around you and pulling you against his chest.

“Thank god, thank god,” Joel sobs into your hair as he drags you down to the ground with him, his voice softer than you can ever remember, the wetness of his tears soaking through your shirt. “I thought I’d lost you…” he whispers, his voice wavering.

He inhales your scent deeply, his hold on you nearly painful, but you don’t mind, your face against his chest as your own tears start to fall.

—

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmurs softly as you’re walking back the following day, glancing over at you, dark brown eyes gently regarding your side profile in the early morning light. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t care. I just…”

“I know,” you respond, pausing to collect your breath and your thoughts. “I know why you did it. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I scared you…”

“Hey,” he says, gently cupping your jaw as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, calloused thumb tracing your jawbone, pausing at your bottom lip. “S’okay.”

Your lips pucker, impervious to stop yourself from planting a small kiss to the pad of his thumb as it brushes your lip.

He lets out a low breath, his hand snaking around to the nape of your neck, fingers lacing through your hair as he tugs you closer, lips crashing against yours in a passionate, heated kiss that flows trembling from him with every fiber of withheld emotion and desire.

—

You arrive at the cabin half a day later, impressed but not surprised by how swiftly Joel was able to navigate both of you back safely.

He even successfully locates the downed buck, stiff with rigor mortis and cold, half chewed by a pack of wolves that scatter with a single rifle shot fired over their heads, the large animal now dragging listlessly behind Joel as you finally break through the barrier of trees encasing the valley where the cabin resides.

Smoke still curls from the chimney, fire long gone but embers undoubtedly still hot, and you find yourself smiling. With relief, with anticipation.

You’re exhausted, famished and dirty. Yet you still assist Joel in stringing up what’s left of the buck to the outside of the cabin until he can properly butcher it, feeling obligated to do so after everything that’s happened, despite his protests.

Once the task is complete, you retire to the warmth and comfort of the cabin, curled against his chest, feeling at home for the first time in months.

His fingers idly trace the bow of your spine, both of you falling into a fast sleep for what feels like days on end.

—

“I was so goddamn stupid,” Joel growls softly as his lips chart a path down your soft inner thighs, finding himself grinding his hips into the mattress for relief. “So goddamn stupid an’ bullheaded, an’ I almost lost you for it.”

Your spine arcs instinctually when his breath ghosts tauntingly close to your soaked folds, your fists finding his graying locks with a tug.

“Joel, stop talking and make it up to me,” you whine, earning a disapproving glance from between your legs, but there’s an undercurrent of playfulness behind his eyes.

“Make it up to you, huh?” he purrs, separating your folds and inhaling your natural scent. “By tastin’ this perfect little pussy?”

“Yes,” you whine again, writhing like a worm cooking under the sun in his grasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Uh uh,” he scolds, moving further away from where you’re desperate for him. “Ask nicely.”

His lip curves almost imperceptibly into a sly smirk, his gaze growing a shade darker.

“Please, Joel,” you amend, still wiggling, almost involuntary at this point, his fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the bed.

“Please what?”

“Please, I need to feel your mouth on my pussy,” you whimper.

His nostrils flare, smirk growing just enough for you to realize you weren’t just seeing things.

He doesn’t waste another second as he dives in with a low, reverberative growl and begins feasting on you like a man starved, his meaty forearm barred across your hip to hold you in place so he can eat you out properly.

His tongue parts your folds, licking a broad stripe up your seam with a groan as he tastes your essence for the first time, moving back down to your opening to tongue fuck you, the ridge of his nose grinding deliciously against your throbbing clit.

You tug harder against his strands with a moan, helping to guide him where you need him most.

Joel grunts your name into your core, eyes locking with yours over your mound, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart right then and there.

He abruptly pulls his mouth from you, making you whine in protest, another smirk notching the corner of his lips as he rolls onto his back, rigid cock swaying slightly with the motion of his hips.

“Get on my face, baby, I need to get deeper,” he says, grabbing your wrist and gesturing you closer.

You don’t even have to give it another thought, scrambling over him, folded knees planted on either side of his head.

He yanks you down abruptly to his waiting and eager mouth before you’re halfway settled, tongue curling into your wet heat with a deep groan that vibrates straight through you.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, directing your movements, grinding you against his face as he continues to feast on you like you’re nothing less of a five star meal.

Your hands furl the edge of the headboard, spine arching, and it doesn’t take much longer in this position to be sent over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like a bolt of lightning, Joel’s name a sacred prayer on your tongue as everything inside of you completely uncoils.

He keeps you there long enough to let you ride out your high, tongue still laving at your spasming walls until it’s too much for you to handle.

You shift off of him, his facial hair glistening with evidence of your release as he pulls you down into a rough, needy kiss, letting you taste yourself, flipping you over and pinning you beneath him, arms caged around your head as he grinds his hardness against you.

“You have no idea how many times I jerked off thinking about you like this,” Joel confesses, nipping at your jaw, then your bottom lip. “How you would feel. How you would taste.” He kisses down to your collarbone, his teeth gently grazing.

“And you have no idea how many times I touched myself thinking about you,” you confess in reply, Joel’s head lifting to meet your eyes at your admission. “I had to bite my lip every night to keep from moaning your name...”

“Fuck…” he growls, settling his pelvis between your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, lifting one to prop against his shoulder.

“You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years,” he rumbles, giving himself a few firm pumps before notching himself at your entrance. “Y’want me to go fast or slow, darlin’?”

A warmth spreads through your chest at the simple act of him asking, knowing it isn’t just mindless sex to him, that he actually cares, if that wasn’t already obvious from how enthusiastically he just ate you out.

“Slow, then hard and fast,” you tell him, earning another deep rumble as he starts to push himself inside of you, fat head stretching your walls.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he says softly as he steadily gains ground, his hips shuddering with restraint once he bottoms out, sheathing himself fully. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re strangling me,” he grunts. “I don’t know how long I can last...”

The pain of withholding in his voice is palpable.

“Joel, you just made me come super hard,” you tell him. “Don’t hold yourself back just for me.”

His bottom lip juts out and quivers with the thin veil of control he still has, fingertips digging into your hips, crescent moon shapes left behind in your skin.

“Y’sure?” he asks, internal conflict evident in his voice as he rolls his hips half a thrust forward. “‘cause soon as I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back…”

“I’m sure,” you reassure him, letting him hear the conviction in your voice.

He takes in a steadying breath and gently gyrates his hips forward once, twice, his head tilting down to watch the way he disappears inside of you.

It must be the way you’re taking him so well — or maybe it’s the months of not allowing himself to touch you — the thin thread of restraint suddenly fraying after the initial soft, testing thrusts, a barely audible ‘fuck’ escaping his lips seconds before he begins railing into you with everything a man of his age has to give… which is a lot.

Joel’s hand is on your calf, holding your leg flush to his chest, the other on your hip in a bruising hold, watching the way your body sways in rhythm with his motions, teeth bared in concentration.

“Darlin’… I’m… I… where do you want it?” he pants, the question almost sounding pained.

You know you should make him pull out and finish on your stomach. Contraceptives are a rare luxury these days and you’d always made your previous boyfriends pull out. But you can’t stop yourself, the permission spilling from your lips thoughtlessly.

“In… inside…” you whimper in desperation and Joel doesn’t even think to question it.

He collapses on top of you, his hips sputtering and shaking, a deep, guttural snarl sounding from his chest as he spills into you, filling you to the brim with hot jets of spend.

Despite not coming a second time, the sensation of him shooting inside of you still feels good, his warmth filling every crevice it can reach inside of you.

He buries his face against your neck, gingerly taking some of your flesh between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to leave a faint impression.

His hips gradually slow and still, your name a reverent curse on his tongue.

“Christ,” he pants, wrapping you snugly in his burly arms. “Christ, darlin’.”

—

Spring finally reaches the valley, replenishing the land with color and sunlight, allowing you and Joel to wander out further and further every day.

He tells you he wants to find something nicer than the cabin. Somewhere larger, more permanent, even though you’ve told him time and again that you’d prefer to stay.

And you do, for a spell.

That is until you find your body growing more sensitive than usual. Until you find it increasingly difficult to keep some of your meals down, trying to convince Joel it’s nothing, that it’s just a summer cold, when you both know it’s not.

Joel dotes on you, burdens himself over you, knowing exactly what it is without wanting to say it. All the signs are there, almost textbook, unable to keep his memories from drifting back to the days before Sarah was born, how her mother’s symptoms were damn near identical.

He doesn’t dare tell you how scared he is, how much this terrifies him all the the way to his bone marrow, but you know. You see it in his gaze when he looks at you, feel it in his touch when he pulls you against him at night.

—

You’re on a scouting run one warm summer day, Joel hardly more than two feet from you at any given moment, so many unspoken words and feelings still hanging in the air between you.

He reaches for your arm to steady you when your feet slide on a patch of loose rocks, his palm instinctively moving to protect your stomach. You’re almost sure he wasn’t even aware he did it.

“Joel,” you say, placing your hand over his. “I’m alright.”

His brow furrows, silence speaking louder than any words he could say.

He’s reverted into his headspace again, more quiet these last few days than he has been. And it worries you. You hate that he bottles everything up, but you know that confrontation could make him shut down even more.

You begin walking again, his hand absently resting on the small of your back, and you continue down the path in stagnant silence.

Suddenly, Joel stops, eyes squinting to confirm what he’s seeing is real.

A neighborhood.

—

The neighborhood would have been considered a new development before the world went to shit, most of the lots bare and choked with two decades worth of weeds, some houses half built and some finished but likely vacant at the time.

There are only a few that look to have been potentially occupied before everything, three larger homes next to one another in a cul-de-sac at the end of unmanaged, cracked pavement.

There’s not much of interest in the first few homes you inspect, watching the way Joel silently scrutinizes everything as a potential future dwelling, not a single corner left unchecked, his latent instincts as a contractor still well ingrained in him despite the expanse of time.

By mid day, you’re both sweating profusely, Joel moreso than you since he isn’t letting you do much, forcing you to put food and water in your body, brooking no argument when he gives you his ration as well.

He knows you should head back soon before you’re out too late, but there’s still one house left to search and he doesn’t want to make the trip a second time if it isn’t worth the trouble.

The largest house, a two story spruce green craftsman with gray trim, his heart aching with nostalgia at how much it reminds him of his former home in Austin.

You start the same route as with the other houses; from the top, room by room, working your way down, your anxiety growing the lower the sun dips in the sky, knowing you only have a couple hours at best before it’s too late to leave.

The main floors scoured, you follow Joel to the basement, your hands on his shoulders for stability as you slowly work your way down the creaking stairs, your eyes adjusting to the shadows the deeper you travel.

When you’ve reached the bottom, Joel pulls out his flashlight, hitting it against his palm a few times before it flickers to life, the thin beam of light reflecting off the freshly disturbed dust.

You cover your nose and mouth with your shirt to keep out some of the flying particles, watching as Joel stumbles upon a stack of neatly piled and labeled storage totes in the furthest corner from the stairs, adrenaline beginning to course through him like a drug as he reads the faded sharpie scrawled on the sides.

“‘Canned goods and preserves’,” Joel says quietly, his voice higher in pitch than usual, more hopeful. There’s at least four totes labeled canned goods that you can see, possibly more, dates ranging from anywhere from late 2000 to summer of 2003.

He moves slightly to the right, his body tremoring as he examines the next set of totes.

Multiple totes labeled MREs, dated around the same range as the canned goods. He rips the top off of a few of them open to confirm that his eyes aren’t deceiving him, that this isn’t a cruel dream, nearly doubling over when he sees just how real it is.

“Joel?” you ask, concerned, stepping nearer to him when you see him trembling and clutching his chest. “Baby ..?”

He suddenly turns and throws his arms around you, and it dawns on you that he’s crying, he’s crying and trembling, eyes full of happy tears.

“A fucking prepper. A fucking prepper just saved our lives,” he whimpers into your hair, squeezing you against him, and all he can think in that moment is thank fuck for those crazy assholes. Thank fuck for people like Bill.

—

In the weeks that follow, you and Joel clean and repair the house — Joel doing most of the work, per his insistence — but it’s in surprisingly good shape despite its age and lack of upkeep, and even with just the two of you, it doesn’t take as long as you’d expected.

You can’t help but miss the cabin, the natural beauty of the valley. But Joel was right to move you. It’s safer here, more insulated from weather, more space to grow. And perhaps, one day, the cabin can be someone else’s salvation, as it had been for you.

Another night falls on one of the final lingering days of summer, barely able to see the shine of Joel’s eyes in the dim light as he climbs over you, parting your legs with his knee, rumbling low in his chest as he peppers kisses and bites down the column of your neck.

[22thumbs]

Tried typing in Enemies to Parent in the TLOU filters on Ao3 and nothing came up 🥺.

Was scrolling through AO3 and found this gem

Enemy to parent is a trope we have to popularise lmao

[cowgirlvi]

mdni. sub-bottom abby. fem-top reader. cunnilingus. short blurb.

imagining the immense amount of relief you felt when abby first told you that she and owen broke up. owen was never the right fit for her—you knew it from the start. he’s a nice enough guy, you suppose, but the way he followed around mel like a lost puppy made you wary of him. how could he chase after another woman when he already had a girlfriend of abby’s caliber; intelligent, compassionate, and undeniably strong.

unsurprisingly, abby’s devastated but she tries to hide it from you—from everyone. she throws herself into work, picking up extra shifts, exhausting herself at the gym, eating meager meals in her room, and then she goes to bed before repeating it all again the next day.

owen flaunting his new relationship with mel certainly doesn’t help the situation. if anything, it grinds salt into an open wound. 

and yet, abby is polite to them—because of course she is, no matter how many times you tell her they don’t deserve her kindness. and you watch her closely, noticing the way her usual spark has dimmed. she smiles when expected, nods along to conversations, but there’s a new hollowness behind her eyes—different from when she lost her dad.

you’d say you know abby pretty well by now and you understand exactly what she needs.

which is how the two of you end up in the woods during patrol, the scent of damp earth mixing with her own woodsy body wash. abby is bent over on her knees, forearms pressed into the dirt. her cargo pants are pulled down over her the curve of her ass, muscles taut with anticipation. 

the world around you two is quiet, save for the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of nature, and abby’s shaky breaths as you press open-mouthed kisses all over her lower back and ass. you can taste the salt of her skin, feel the way she shivers against your lips.

her thighs are littered with faint freckles, delicate constellations dotting her skin. they’re even between her legs, decorating her pussy lips. you make a point to trace each one with the tip of your tongue, savoring the way she trembles under your touch.

your hands knead the firm globes of her ass, squeezing, spreading, revealing the glistening pink of her cunt. her pussy is so cute, it smells so good—pungent and salty—and you want to fuck your tongue inside her entirely, to devour her sex until she cries.

you drag your tongue along her slit, slow and deliberate, from the swollen peak of her clit to her tight, fluttering entrance. you feel her body jerk and tense, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as you taste her, and you know she’s trying so hard to stay still, to be a good girl and act like she’s not desperate for you to play with her cunt.

“bet your pussy wasn’t getting much attention before this, huh?” you say, raspy—and a choked moan is all she can manage in response.

you trace a maddeningly slow circle around her hole before pressing your tongue inside to get a taste, to drink her sweet pussy nectar like wine. using both your thumbs, you spread abby’s cunt wider, exposing more of that slick, needy heat. fucking your tongue inside her as deep as you can reach, you drink her in like she’s something holy, with your nose swallowed up between her thick asscheeks.

she’s always wound so tight; coiled like a spring, ready to snap. but now, beneath your hands, against your mouth, she’s soft. pliable. yours—all because your tongue is stuffed inside her needy cunt.

”mmph—oh fuck, please—unghh!”

her muscular thighs quiver, hips bucking back instinctively to seek out more, and you give it to her, digging your tongue deeper inside her gummy walls, licking her like a lollipop. you moan at the tangy, saline taste of her arousal, savoring the way her body responds to you. her pussy is so immensely wet that you gulp her juices down like water from a fountain.

”that’s it, babe. ride my tongue, just like that,” you murmur and then slurppp against her sopping wet pussy noisily.

you move one of your hands to her clit, playing with the sensitive nub, flicking your index finger against it in rapid, staccato strokes. you can feel abby’s arousal building, her body tensing, panting harsh and ragged like a dog.

”shiiiit, i’m gonna—gonna come! ohh, hnghhff—“

you hum against her, pleased, and continue worshipping her cunt—tongue-fucking her, teasing her, playing with her cute clit, pulling her apart until she’s nothing but a shaking, desperate mess beneath you.

until she finally lets go.

a sharp, broken cry rips from her throat as her body seizes, her thighs squeezing around your hand as she comes undone—hole clenching and fluttering around your tongue. she’s shaking so hard that she nearly collapses, her entire body wracked with pleasure and electricity as you work her through it—licking and sucking until she’s gasping, whimpering like a bitch, too sensitive to take it anymore.

you pull back, savoring the aftertaste of her arousal, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of her thighs. your hands smooth over her hips as she catches her breath, and for the first time in weeks, the tension has melted from her body, her shoulders loose.

and when she finally turns to look at you, eyes still heavy-lidded with pleasure, you see something else there too.

something softer.

something like gratitude.

taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0, @marieeeluvsyou, @mxchi-mxxn, @el-amor-que-tu-quieres, @jinxvex, @mwahbabe, @teddybearbutch28, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @nahcala, @ellieslob, @idontwannabehereatm, @rhian88, @kyur1jinx, @vivispace, @girlbeatings, @thatgrlnany, @blackdykegirlblogger, @imfckngfantastic

(2/15/25)

happy belated valentine’s day!! <3

[mianieaaa]

he’ll let you hurt him and will crawl back to you even though he’s the one in pain.

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your tension with Joel comes to a head as you make a confession that will change your relationship with him forever.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Langauge, oral (F receiving) , one thigh slap, p in v, Joel being super into boobs

Word Count: 3.5k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

July 2024

Joel stands a mere five feet from you. His chest heaves a bit, like he's dashed out of the bar to catch you. His hands rest on his hips as he leans on one leg.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to leave a man on the dance floor?"

You look down at the grass and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

"Sorry." You say earnestly, "Just needed some air."

Joel shakes his head, "It's alright, sweetheart, Y'just scared me it's all. Thought you might've been getting sick or something."

You shake your head. No, you're not sick. He's considerate to ask though. Ellie had a nasty stomach bug a week and a half ago, you had become her in-home nurse and spoon-fed her thin chicken broth until she could eat solids again.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong then?" Joel asks

You curse him. He always seems to know when something is off with you. Even here in the low light of the streetlights in Jackson, he could see you were thinking.

Yeah, thinking about him.

"It's nothing." You brush him off, "I think I'll just go back home and take a shower. You should go back to the party, though, I bet Tommy misses you."

Joel catches you by the elbow as you go to turn away from him again.

"Now, hold on. It's clear I've upset you, tell me what's wrong." He prods, "Lay it on me, I can handle it."

You scoff. Yeah right. He couldn't handle it in 2003, what made him think he'd be able to accept it now.

"Just let me go." You huff, pulling at your arm

"No, Not 'til you tell me what's wrong." Joel's grip tightens, not enough to bruise, but firm enough so you feel his fingers leaving indents in your skin.

You struggle again for a moment before relenting. Fine, if he wanted to know, he was going to know. No sense in hiding it until one of you dies or gets munched on by a Clicker.

"It's you, Joel." You say

"Me?" He asks, dropping your arm, confusion taking over his stupidly handsome face.

"You're the fucking problem." You point your finger into his chest for good measure, "Giving me all these nicknames and letting me sleep in your bed. You're under my fucking skin and I can't get over you."

Joel is looking at you like you've lost it. Good, maybe if he thinks you're crazy, he'll leave you alone, and you can get over him.

"You don't like it when I do those things for you? Want me to stop, cuz I will." Joel says, his anger beginning to rise to meet yours.

You groan, deep down, you really don't know what you want. Maybe you do. God, it was all so fucked up, falling for him again, you were losing it.

"No! I just...I don't..." You huff, wrapping your arms around your body, "I can't keep going like this. Pretending like it's all platonic because it's not."

Here goes nothing, no taking this one back.

"I'm in love with you, Joel. I'm fucking obsessed with you, and your nicknames, teasing, and constant worry over me aren't helping."

Joel is quiet as he takes it all in, you can practically see the gears turning in his head. You squeeze your arms around your body, digging your fingers into your arms til it burns.

"I-I know you dumped me for a reason, I get it, I do." You stammer, "I can get over my feelings again, I'll do it again, I swear..."

Joel finally finds his voice as he gives you a one-word reply, "No."

You ignore him and continue your warpath, "Look, let's just pretend I never said any of this, okay. I'll move back to my house and we can keep being friends."

Your voice practically dies in your throat as you add, "Please, just don't...leave me again."

"I'm not goin' anywhere." Joel sighs deeply and takes a step forward. His natural scent invades your nose as he takes your face in his hands.

"You're crazy, y'know that, girl."

"If you're gonna ridicule me, you can let go and do it further away." You huff in annoyance. You'd just laid your soul bare for this man, and the first thing he does is call you crazy. The audacity he had.

"Now, let me finish." He says sternly

"You can't take your confession back," A small smile plays on his lips. "Because I am just as fucking obsessed with you, baby."

You scoff, yeah, right, he was fucking with you. Joel's thumb runs a soothing path across your cheek,

"I'm not lying, scouts honor." He says

"You weren't even a boy scout." You remind him. thinking back to what you knew about Joel's childhood.

"Hmph, you're right about that one," Joel gives you a coy smile, "Guess I'll just have to show ya then,"

His voice drops a bit and you swear your heart skips a beat,

"Let me show how fucking in love with you I am, baby..."

Before you have a chance to blink, his lips are brushing yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and you tilt your head a bit to deepen the kiss. Joel lets out a deep groan when your hands come up to brush through the hair at the back of his neck.

Joel pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, "Still think I'm lyin' to ya?"

A giggle escapes your lips as you shake your head, and he steals another kiss from you.

"I was in love with you again the moment I saw ya shoveling horse shit when I first got here." He confesses, "Couldn't believe you were still alive."

You snort and pull back from him to look him in the eye, "Cuz the overalls and rubber boots I wore are so attractive. Besides, if you were so into me again, why'd you say you didn't know me to Ellie?"

Joel's eyes soften as he takes in your determined look, you want the truth, not some half-assed excuse.

"I dunno," Joel mumbles, his eyes dropping down to the neckline of your dress.

You scoff as he looks away, here he is not owning up to anything.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Joel? You're a fuckin-"

"I'm sorry." He blurts out, "For all of it. I'm sorry for dumpin' ya before the world ended, I was a real dick, baby. Mailing your shit back like that. I shouldn't have done that."

You hum, in acknowledgment, looking up into his deep brown eyes.

Joel leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, "Shouldn't have said I didn't know ya to Ellie when we got here either, don't know what I was thinking."

"I get it, if ya change your mind. I'll let you go, just say the word and I'll let you go, I swear. You deserve better than I can offer anyway, I had my chance and blew it already."

You shake your head, no you don't want that.

"What part of I'm fucking obsessed with you, don't you get?" You breathily ask, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Joel smiles, basking in your forgiveness. Here you were, finally standing in front of him, your feelings laid bare to each other. It's a small step, just letting your fears of the past go yet you feel infinitely lighter now, wrapped up in him.

Your hands fiddle with the buttons on his shirt and curl into the soft fabric. You suddenly feel unbearably hot but you get it now, why love drove so many people mad. Joel's soft gaze on you had your chest buzzing with and excitement you couldn't quite name.

"You wanna go back to your house?" You ask hopefully

"You mean our house?"

"Right, our house." You softly correct yourself

Joel gives you a nod and a smile, Course I do, darlin' lead the way."

You and Joel nearly faceplant three times as the two of you fumble your way up the steps to your shared bedroom. Joel catches you after you stumble over a pair of his discarded jeans from earlier.

"I'll clean that up," Joel says apologetically, kicking them to the side.

"Later." You breathe as his lips tickle the soft skin on your neck

"Later." He parrots with a smile into your skin

You let yourself fall onto the bed, welcoming it's softness and the way it smells of Joel. Before you can miss him, he's hovering over you, stealing kisses from your lips and letting his hands begin to wander across your form.

"Fuck..." Joel sighs as his hands squeeze at your chest.

"You alright up there?" You tease, he sounds so utterly wrecked and you've barely begun.

Joel gives you a playful glare, "You don't fucking know how long I've been waiting to feel these, baby. Been thinking about it since we went to that Macy's."

"My bra shopping got you going, huh?" You tease

Joel grumbles in annoyance and presses a kiss to the skin of your collarbone,

"You're real mean, y'know that."

"You poor baby," You laugh, throwing his nickname back at him, "You'll be alright."

You want to tease him some more, he's so easy to make fun of like this. Your words die in your throat when Joel presses his knee against your core through your dress.

"Not laughing anymore," Joel notes as he fixes his attention on your neck, his hands pulling your cardigan off your body.

Your hands undo the buttons of the shirt he's been teasing you with all night, and you push it off his broad shoulders. Finally, at long last, his torso is all yours to admire.

"Quit staring." Joel orders, "Nothin' there to admire."

"I beg to differ." You smile

Joel scoffs as he leans down to let his lips capture yours as hands roam up your back, searching for the zipper to your dress. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest, fuck you were really going to do this.

The loud hiss of your still zipped dress as you break the kiss, your eyes begin to swim with fear. That's right, sex with Joel also meant being naked with Joel.

"You want me to stop?" Joel asks, freezing

"No, I don't." You honestly say, "I just..."

"Take your time," Joel says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, and then to your cheek

Your breaths come out shaky as you speak again, "Just scared you won't like what you see. I don't look like I used to."

"Are you fucking with me?" Joel laughs

"No." You groan, thinking of how your scars ruined your skin, and how age had filled your curves out.

"Baby, you could be neon green under this dress, and I wouldn't care." He presses a kiss to your cheek, "l love your scars, I promise."

Your face warms in embarrassment, how did he say stuff like that so easily, "You haven't even seen them yet."

"Don't gotta," Joel promises, "They're a part of you, I know I'll love them."

It isn't much just a simple sentence, but that's all it takes for fear to be banished from your mind as you smile up at him.

"Take my dress off, Joel." You say

"Yes, ma'am." Joel teases as his fingers find the zipper once more.

Joel pulled your dress from you, delighting to see that you'd forgone a bra with said dress. His hands ran over the raised pink lines and gently caressed your hips and soft belly.

"Even prettier than the last time I saw ya." He assures

Your clothes disappeared onto the floor as Joel disappeared from above you, only to reappear between your thighs, kneeling in front of you. One big hand snuck between your legs as he teased you through your panties. His fucking mouth locked onto the skin of your thighs whispering dirty things into the skin there.

Bold as ever, he slipped his hand under your panties and let his thumb brush over your sensitive clit while two fingers slipped lower and teased your hole.

"Fucking soaked." Joel comments as you blush, "Can I take these off?"

You nod, eager to get out of the suffocating underwear.

Without the restriction of clothing, he was able to latch his mouth to your needy clit. His fingers teased your slit as he ran them along the soft flesh there, teasing but never entering.

"Joel..." You gasp, your hand wrapping around his wrist, unsure if you want him to stop or keep going.

"All mine." He whispers as you cry out, your orgasm washing over you quicker than you expected, your hips nearly flying off the bed. It'd been so long since you felt pleasure like this.

Joel straightens up and rejoins you on the bed, lying beside you as he runs a hand across the scars on your belly, murmuring something about them being beautiful.

"Can we keep going?" You ask breathlessly, looking over at his handsome face

"Course we can." He smiles, sitting back up

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. The softness of it all, god you fucking loved him.

Joel shook his head a bit as you pulled his boxers down, letting his cock out, "Greedy."

"Can you blame me?" You giggle

The hiss he let out when you ran your fingertips along the head had you dizzy with lust. Joel repositions so he's above you and his lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance.

"Wait." You say as he pauses above you

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, concerned, his eyes never leave yours

"I just, um," God, this was embarrassing, but he had a right to know, "Dr. Hill did an exam on me a few years back. Said I have a lot of scar tissue inside, so don't be upset if I can't y'know...cum."

"We'll go slow, alright. If it hurts or something is off, you tell me and I stop, okay?" His voice laced with concern

You nod and grip at his forearms, grounding yourself to him.

"Words, baby. Let me hear 'em," Joel says softly, refusing to move without your permission

"I wanna keep going." You say honestly

A gasp escapes your lips when he enters you. He was big, you knew it, you had seen it just seconds ago, yet it still surprised you as he pushed forward, just barely inside

"Fuck..." Joel gasped above you, his hands gripping the pillows beside you

You grimace when he shifts again, pushing more of him into you. Fuck, the doc told you this would hurt, but this bad?

"Need me to stop?" Joel asks worriedly when he sees your face

That's the last fucking thing you want.

"Keep going." You say, determined to see this through.

Joel looks at you, concerned yet he inches forward, letting out ba soft groan under his breath.

Slowly but surely you get there, letting him inside as pain slowly becomes pleasure. His fingers toy with your clit as you squirm under him. What he does next though, it has you nearly passing out from how hot it is. Joel fucking Miller leans down just a bit and actually spits on his cock.

"You're insane." You comment

"You love it," Joel says, stealing your lips in a kiss that's nothing but spit and teeth.

Joel begins to move, soft and slow at first before you demand more from him. You moan as you feel yourself growing even wetter, between his spit and your own arousal, it's actually begun to feel really fucking good.

Joel's hips slam into yours as he finally gives in to your begging for faster and harder.

"This what you want, huh? Is it?" He asks, leaning down to your ear, pressing your thighs up towards your chest a bit.

"Yes!" You yelp when his hand smacks at your inner thigh

"Such a good fucking girl..." Joel mutters as his hips begin to stutter when you tighten around him

"Joel!" You warn, fuck your stomach feels tight, no way is he actually going to get you to cum.

His hips backward, and your jaw drops into a silent moan as he enters again, this time with his thumb teasing your clit.

"C'mon, let go." Joel coerces, "Know you wanna."

You groaned as your orgasm rolled over you, your eyes slammed shut as Joel sucked a hickey onto your chest.

"Fucking hell!" He gasped, freeing himself from you before cumming all over your tummy.

Joel presses a kiss to your damp forehead before dropping himself onto the mattress beside you. Your heart squeezes when he scooches towards you, resting his sweaty head in the valley between your breasts.

"You okay?" You ask softly

"Am I okay?" Joel laughs into your skin, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." You smile, running a hand through his greying curls atop his head.

Joel lets out a soft hum and presses a kiss to one of your nipples,

"Hungry? Thirsty? Sore?" He asks, apparently ready to provide a world of aftercare despite looking exhausted himself

You wiggle your hips a bit, testing the waters. A twinge of pain shoots through your belly, and you grimace. It had felt so good, yet your body was punishing you anyway.

"Sore." You softly admit, kissing his head, "And kinda sticky."

You motion to the cum that is drying on your body

Joel shifts so he can get a better look at you, examining the way your face is pinched together as your thighs shift again before looking down at your dirty skin.

"I'll run us a bath. " He offers, "Get us some food while I'm at it too."

You nod as he disappears, naked as the day he was born, to run you a bath and get food.

You snort when he returns, clad in your bathrobe you had hung up in the bathroom on your hook, he wipes at your stomach with a warm wash cloth.

"I look good, no?" He asks gesturing to his body

"It's up for debate." You laugh

Joel scoops you up, bridal style, and walks towards the bathroom, "Well, I happen to think I look fabulous."

The bath is perfectly warm, even smelling like the lavender bath fizzes you keep for special occasions. Joel lowers you into the tub before turning to sit on the closed toilet, a plate with crackers and cheese balanced in his hands

"Get your ass in here." You say before he has a chance to sit down fully

"You sure?" Joel asks

"You just fucked me for the first time in two decades and now you're asking to take a bath with me?" You say

Joel sets the food on the edge of the rub, unties the robe, and climbs in. He fidgets nervously as you lean back into his chest.

"You nervous, Miller?" You ask, feeling the way his breath stutters a bit.

"We've never done this before." He points out, "Not even back then."

You hum in acknowledgment, "Lucky you, I guess."

Joel laughs a bit as he links his arms securely around your middle, hands brushing the underside of your breasts, "Lucky me, indeed."

"Would you leave them alone?" You laugh as he squeezes the flesh

"Can't. " Joel mumbles, pressing a soft kiss on your neck, "I missed them."

"Pervert." You say softly

You and Joel sit in the bath til it goes tepid, feeding each other crackers and cheese, and basking in each other's company. Then, he coaxes you to your feet and washes both of you under the steam of the shower.

Now, you were wrapped around him in bed, listening to the crickets chirp. Your eyes are beginning to droop when he speaks,

"I'm sorry," Joel says

"I'm not hurting that much, Joel." You say sleepily into his bare chest.

"No not that. Well, yes that. But I'm sorry for dumpin' ya before the world ended."

You hum, "Mmm. It's alright, I forgive you, remember?

"I know, I just..."

"I forgive you." You softly say, scooting closer to him

Joel presses a kiss to your forehead, "You're too good to me. I'm an ass, I know that."

Joel yelps when you pinch his side.

"Glad you're self-aware." You laugh

"I got real scared back then. Thought I was fucking your life up by sticking around." He admits

"Right, cuz dating a 35-year-old at 24 was the worst thing to ever happen to me" You joke

"No!" Joel protests, "You know what I mean."

You nod, you do know what he means.

"Don't have to be scared anymore." You say quietly

Joel hums and chuckles a bit, rubbing a soothing circle into your back as you lay here with him under the covers.

"No, I don't. You're all mine." He declares

You shift a bit, shuffling so you can look him in the eyes, and press a kiss to his lips. Your voice comes out confidently, as you say something you've wanted to say for so long now,

"Yours."

Here we are...at the end. Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am very busy right now, but I may write more for these two later.

Thank you all for reading and following this story as it progressed. If you'd like, leave me some comments with feedback!

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[kyloispunk]

Does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes?

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: Joel has had a ‘crush’ on you for a long time now and will make sure no man gets in the way of that.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: PW[with]P- kinda. Reader is not legal to drink but still legal. Polite reader just trying to not be a bitch while dealing with a pervy old man! Joel has a crush on you, a BIG one. Bro gets so mad he gets a boner. Mutual touching he drives, a teeny bit of spanking & nipple play, unprotected PIV, aftercare for once wow!! Part 2 planned [ will be smuttier once im not sick ] no beta,

A/N: ANON REQ!! (you know who u are and here’s my take on a bit of a jealous Joel) I would've done way more smut if I didn’t have a high fever rn + writers block 😵‍💫! so VERY rushed.

No man should covet a woman he doesn’t own. 

And you weren’t his. 

Your daddy would make sure you would never be. 

Joel tells himself that. Over and over again, the only prayer in his head, the hymn he lives by ever since you’ve been staying with him per your father’s request. You yourself slowly recognizing Joel’s patterns of life. As he wakes up he takes pills for his headaches, swallowing them dry without a blink. His body is accustomed to the feeling. Every Saturday he’d take a weekly drive to the liquor store to stock up on the much needed provisions to his day-to-day routines. Booze, in much less dramatic terms. 

Your father was out of state for work forcing you to settle up with Joel for a couple of months, the only man your father would allow you to actually be around. In fear of you doing something bad. Bad as in… Sex? You could only assume that’s what your darling daddy meant. 

A rocky relationship in the cruel reality. 

Joel’s home. It was livable, there isn’t much to say when it’s the house of a man who’s been living alone twenty years. Indications of life scattered upon furniture the only real telltale signs that someone actually lives there. Coffee table littered with rings from mugs he’d simply leave for too long, the way the worn, vomit-colored green couch sags in the middle. Any prints that were on the buttons of the TV remote had been rubbed off by pressing around them, the last time he had gotten a new television was probably going on fifteen years now. Sad. Truly and utterly sad. 

Then you came along. 

Remnants of your liveliness woven into the once so dreary place. Something as so simple as a hair tie left on the counter, the very vague scent of perfume you left lingering in the small space of the bathroom every time you’d leave it. Now at night he’d walk past the second bedroom of his home that had been left unused, once depressed and dark, had the warm glow of your lamp being left on, leaking through the gap between the door and the floor. The littlest things.

Joel pretends not to notice. 

Though, he does. 

He notices the way you hum so very quietly the times you’re obligated to cook your own breakfast. How you pull your knees up onto the couch when you sit. Rolling your eyes at him every time he’d vexingly tell you to make sure to lock the front door when you came in. You listened. 

You’re too comfortable here. Too at ease. 

And what’s worse is he was getting used to it.

He’s not your fuckin’ father. He’s not your keeper. He’s just the man your daddy trusted well enough to take care of you when he was gone. Sorry excuse for a babysitter all the while you weren’t a baby. An adult who can well take care of herself. Only agreed because he wouldn’t want you to discover how he’s been living for practically twenty years by being alone for two months. The dark quietness of a home when it was just you there. 

He told himself it would be easy. Two months. He’d keep his distance. 

It’s almost impossible. The way you made him feel was sickening. You’re always around. Sinking deep into the couch, marveling in whatever boring sitcom would play on the box of blue light that flickered throughout the room. How you’d take sips from his beer just to tease, wrinkle your nose at the taste deep down you liked. Making your tongue buzz. You were making yourself at home in a place that was never meant to be yours. 

The only thing that worsened it for Joel is that you were so blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. 

He thought the hardest part of this arrangement would be keeping you out of trouble. Your father acting like if he was gone you’d fall apart as a person. Be out partying or fuckin’ every night. Far from the truth. Laying so contently home every night.

Coming back to reality, the hardest part was keeping himself out of it. 

It’s the way you’d walk around his house in whatever you had slept in that night, no matter it be a tank-top and those tiny, plaid shorts that went up your ass. Appreciating the comfortability, though, he fucking hated it. You acted like you belonged there. 

Often he’s finding himself watching you too long, staring at the curve of your mouth while you speak, the plump of your lips as you stay entertained by the television with your face at a gentle rest. He was always seemingly gawked. 

Fifty-seven wasn’t the age to have crushes. 

And on Sunday’s, the day of the lord, of course. Joel Miller goes to the local bar.

Nighttime was surprisingly when the crowd died down. You were surprised to see that as you walked through the doors that sheltered the poorly kept saloon style establishment. Tables seated with older men closer to Joel’s age, some luckier than others to be accompanied by a woman. Smelled like stale beer and sweat which in reality was more disgusting than appealing. Loud breaks in the casual conversions of the crowd as pool balls clacked together. Rejoicing coming soon after. 

Usually you had something better to do on these nights. Going out with your friend’s always suffices though of course they canceled out today. Great, stuck with Mister Miller for a night of drinking all the while you weren’t allowed to let alcohol in your body at your age.He wouldn’t lie for you either, he was supposed to take care of you. Not turn you into the starts of an alcoholic. 

Torturous. Did the man want you to shoot yourself?

He led you through the slim pickings of a crowd there really was, hand grazing the small of your back to keep you close. Nothing more. Both sliding your bodies onto the leather tops of the barstools. Uncomfortability was the price to pay for the first hand of drinks. A squeak in your stool that no one had the patience to fix. 

“Whiskey.” The request sounded more like a plea from his lips. “Two.”

You knew the second one didn’t mean for you. 

Rubbing his temple as he flagged down the waitress. She was all too polite for what seemed to be the shittiest bar on earth. As if a small town in Texas would give you any better. Nodding her head in your direction. Your lips pursed as if ‘Beer” was gonna be the next thing to move past them. Though, you digressed. 

“Soda. I guess.” Joel gave a nod to you. Of course he approved of that action. Rubbing a hand over his jaw he sighed. Forgetting to take his pills this morning. Fuck, the throb behind his eye was something only the alcohol could numb by now. 

“You could’a stayed home.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You shrugged, admittedly so you rather be home- no. You rather be out with your friends as you were supposed to be tonight but in an act of such kindness, you came here with Joel. “Maybe I wanted to see why you liked this place so much.” It was a simple muse to him, though it did strike your curiosity. 

“Quickest bar from home. Quickest way to get drunk.” Curiosity met with an undeniably depressing answer. You were used to it by now. His lips pressed into a thin line. Once the barkeep came back she handed Joel his drinks, plural. As she also came with yours. Soda rimmed with ice. He picked up the first drink given, perspiration coating the glass. His thumb pressed against the cold lowball as he took the first sip. Heavy hot liquid sliding down his throat. Numbing him, his mind. Felt refreshed. 

You hum, stirring the ice in your soda in circles with your straw. He hears the clinking over the din of the bar. Louder than his own thoughts. 

You crossed your legs. Your thighs squishing together through the denim of your jeans, the material a bit loose on your body, a choice out of comfortability to buy baggier bell bottoms instead of the ones that hugged your ass tight. Drawing Joel’s eyes unintentionally.

Fuck this. 

He drags his palm down his face, trying to wipe away whatever the fuck he was feeling. It’s sickening for him. It’s so easy to not feel like this when it’s something so simple, so selfish as a one night stand, a whore he had paid to suck his cock. Different. Far different, especially since the last month he’s spent his time admiring the woman before him. You. The innocence in your eyes that served your beauty. It was this crawling under his skin he wanted to rip away from. 

So fucking vigilant on the scent of you, the sound of your voice, the way you shift ever so slightly closer to him as another group of men pass.

Joel breathes out slowly, averting his eyes to the sweet sight of you. 

The night goes on, the whiskey dulling the edges of restraint with every slow, steady sip. Slowly the place was growing on you, the night seemed to cool it down, less noise less chatter. Seems everyone needed to knock out a couple drinks before settling. You would’ve been happy to say the same if you were allowed to order that beer. You propped your chin in your palm, your elbow flat against the bartop avoiding any of the sticky substances that would coat some unfortunate patches of it. Your eyes scan throughout the place. Not much to take in, not much to see.

Though the slow deliberate movements draw the tiniest bit of attention from a table your eyes accidentally glance at for too long. Subtle but inevitable. 

Joel catches the way the men sitting at that table glance your way. The way you adjusted your body to once again sit straight up. Clearing your throat. 

And that’s when it starts. 

The first one wasn’t particularly bold about it. Just a flick of his gaze in your direction before returning to his minutes-til’-flat beer. The second man, greying, looks a little longer. Too closely. He nudges his friend, mutters something incoherent- something probably offensive to earn a laugh from him. Now he looked again.

Joel knows that look.

The kind that lingers for too long. That waits for an opening.

The kind that makes Miller’s teeth grind, his shoulders go rigid. His fingers slowly begin tightening around the glass of gold as he keeps his eyes forward. His eyes flutter just a bit to the left, seeing your smile. Trying to hide it by gently pressing your lips to the rim of your glass. Pretty pink lips. Before time heat is bubbling in his belly. Praying to god that was the fuckin’ whiskey. 

Those men are still watching. 

The next sip of booze doesn’t quite help as much as he’d want. It doesn’t smooth out the sharp edges of this feeling, the low simmering deep inside his pelvis. It keeps getting worse. 

He’s coming over. Walking with heavy legs. 

Joel sees it from the corner of his eyes, the way the man pushed back the chair, unhurriedly, sloppily walking straight towards you. From what Miller could gauge from the corner of his eye and what the wiry grey hairs covering the man’s beard told him is that he was older. Older as in his own age. Fifties either early or late. Joel wanted to die. Exhaling sharply, slamming down his glass a bit too hard. 

Muddled, you’d lift your head from your glass to look at Miller with an eyebrow cocked. And before you could even speak-

“Evenin’.” The man spoke.

You’d blindly blink at the man now standing beside your barstool. Startled for only a second before schooling your expression into something- polite. Something surely this man was undeserving of yet you really couldn’t help it. Instincts. 

“Hi.” Joel wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t acknowledge him. Not yet.  

“Can I help you?” You smiled, sweetly.

The man would lean in as expected. The strong smell of beer radiating off his breath. Open-mouthed ogling like a fucking dog. He was clearly absolutely wasted. Just those words were an absolute understatement. 

“Is this your daddy?” Of course he’d say that. Gesturing to Joel who was looking straight on before he turned a glance to the man, his eyes slits as he glared. Understandable. If you weren’t trying to give this man the benefit of the doubt you’d be glaring too. This guy was undeniably a fucking dick.  

“No- no,” You’d giggle. “My babysitter.”

You didn’t like how your mind and soul was making you act, unfortunate your internal instincts were to be tooth-achingly sweet in public.

You wanted to die. 

“S’my lucky day, huh?” You’d blink again. Silence as if the man had stole all the thoughts from your head- not in the good way. 

“No. Not- not quite.” 

You’d laugh, trying your best to brush it off. The man should go away soon. Probably just mistaking you for something you’re not while you’re here trying your best to avoid something awkward. Joel’s jaw clenched. 

“Well,” He hushed. A finger twirled into one of your soft locks. Your body tensing as you kept up another nervous giggle– you were only egging him on more. “I just wanted to see you up close.”

“She ain’t interested.” Miller told the truth with that. You weren’t and you were further from interested. Though the nervous, dumb smile on your lips told the fuckin’ pervert otherwise. 

“She didn’t tell me that.” He pushed. “I’d much rather hear that from your mouth, sweetie.”

You hesitated, your lips parted though words weren’t falling. Refusing. Alas, Joel Miller reached his breaking point. 

He popped up from his stool as he moved over to the guy. The greying man hesitated at the sight, of course. He wasn’t gonna be the kinda man to get his ass beat over something fucking stupid. Though, Joel was willing to beat his ass for your sake. 

A long beat of silence through the access chatter swimming around the bar enters the space between you, Joel and this sad fuckin’ man. 

Joel doesn’t blink.

He doesn’t breathe. 

He just stares. 

The man exhales a chuckle, deep down he didn’t want to walk out of here with a broken nose for flirting with a girl he wanted to fuck. A girl he thought was alone, dumb enough to possibly join him and his sad excuses for friends sitting around his table.

“Didn’t mean any trouble, pal.” He threw his palms up in a mock surrender though, he didn’t mean it. That’s what that beer was for afterall. Stepping back only an inch, letting the hair that was between his fingers fall back to your shoulder. 

“Just bein’ friendly.” 

Joel didn’t answer, why should he? The man let out a scoff as he walked back to his table with his tail between his legs. That was good. All Miller could do was sigh. His shoulders still at unease as he sat back down on the bar stool. Your heart at a slow thump against your ribs. 

You knew deep down that really, you were fine with that. Sure that man was a cuck, sure, you were uncomfortable, but you also knew yourself and you knew if that man would have touched anything else other than the tip of your hair. Oh fuck. He would’ve been gone.

Or– would he? 

It doesn’t shake the feeling that Joel was annoyingly protective if that was the right word for it. That man wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to stick up for you.

He never did. 

He ran a palm down his face –again– he couldn't take the way he was around you. 

“Ohh, what the fuck.”

He was tired of this.

Goddamn if that happened a month ago chances are he wouldn’t have done anything other than roll his eyes and tell the fucker to go jerk off somewhere else but– oh my god did Joel wish he was the one that close to you. Breathing you in. 

Of course, you weren’t a random woman at a bar.

If only he had enough balls to speak to you. 

Pent up hormones ready to blow out of him every moment he was around you. He was too fucking old for this. 

Too fucking old.

If he felt the rush of blood to his cock one more time this night he was gonna–

Joel was already moving by now. Already shoving back from the bar, the scream of the stool leg against the glazed wooden floor of this god forbidden place made you inherently flinch. His jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he reaches for his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the counter without counting. He didn’t fucking care about the act of either over-paying or under-paying right now. He had one, sinfully unfortunate thing on his mind. 

He knew he’d never do it. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it.

Then his hand was on your wrist.

Grasping.

Firm. Unyielding. 

“C’mon.” He gritted. “Time to go, baby.” 

That was a new one. The name melting of his tongue like an instinct.

His grip was tight. Breathing hitched at the feeling of the grip. He was lucky it didn’t hurt. It was enough to make it clear he needed to get out of there. The reason wasn’t clear. It could be innocent on his part: he didn’t want you in a space where old men are looking at you. Ogling you like a slab of fuckin’ meat. 

His real reason was sickening. 

“Joel– c’mon!”

You’d whine, maybe you had a good reason to stay. Maybe you were just being defiant. 

Typical, like a child.

He didn’t give you time to finish.

The bar stool nearly topples as he pulls you up. Stumbling in the boots you were wearing. Tugging you in tightly to stand beside him. He was tensed, heat radiating off his body like a goddamn furnace. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak as if there was a point to. Nothing he said got through to you anyways. He just moves.

People are watching. Who wouldn’t? 

Your pulse spikes as you catch the amused glances throughout the pub. Folks who weren’t looking before now blinking. Causing a scene. Again, 

You. Wanted. To. Die. 

And to make it all better Joel’s eyes rip to the table those men from earlier were sitting at. The ones who eyed you. That same man who had harassed you muttering something to his friend beside him. Fuck. 

He thought he couldn’t get any more pissed. 

His palm covered his lips with no way to read. The music playing throughout the room covered any sounds of a hushed whisper into another man’s ear.

Though, Joel is pivoting. 

His grip on you released as he took a heavy-footed stomp over to that table. He frowned. He wanted to kill them. He would if he could. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Jesus Christ, man.” One of the men mused. Of course, Joel Miller was just another sorry excuse of a man to them. “You don’t give it up do you.” Your babysitter wasn���t intimidating in a setting like this. To a man drunk as a fuckin’ skunk sitting with a bunch of men who reeked of the same stench. 

Joel doesn’t move.

He goes to walk away. No. There was absolutely no point in doing anything.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“All I said is that if I were you I would’ve fucked her by now.” No. Nope that was it.

A quick turn back around and Joel had slammed his fist into the man’s face. Heavy handed. Joel’s knuckles cracking with the impact in the same note as the man’s nose. 

“Fuck!!!” The man cried. It was well deserved. Why would Joel let a man talk to his–

You weren’t his.

Miller couldn’t breathe in the moment. His breathing ragged, watching the blood quickly drip out the man’s nostrils. God was it satisfying.

Your stomach plummets. You can confidently say you’ve never heard a man yell like that. Before the next tick of epinephrine hits Joel his hand now runs to your waist instead. Pushing you out the doors before running into the parking lot.

Holy fucking shit.

The air of the night hit you like a bucket of ice quickly. Suddenly you were regretting only wearing a thin hoodie with a tank top underneath. Joel was dragging you to his truck, practically throwing you into shotgun. 

Slamming the door to your side.

He rounds the front quickly. Pulling open the driver’s side as he slid into the seat. You swore you could hear the way his breath shudders in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his seatbelt over his body– safety first, right? 

The truck was suffocating. Too small. Too fucking warm. 

You lick your lips, tasting salt. Your nerves were shot to hell. “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

He frowned. Fist on the shifter before pulling it into drive. He was speeding away, far away from that bar. Yeah, that one punch may had ruined his personal ‘holy day’ for a good while. If him and that man are ever in the same room again most likely one of them is getting there shit rocked and Joel worries that next time it may be him. 

He doesn’t necessarily wanna take that chance. All because of something so FUCKING stupid.

He doesn’t speak. Nothing to say on his part as for you– too stunned to say anything. You had no understanding of why Joel Miller of all people, of all the men you know was acting like this. His fists balled against the steering wheel. Knuckles turning pale. Ghostly. 

“Fuck.” 

He broke the silence with a curse. He was mad. At least, he sounded so. The growl in his voice masked the need. He could feel every twist, every coil in his gut. All because of you.

He can’t keep hiding it. 

“You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

The smell of hard booze on his breath impregnated your nose. Slowly beginning to understand the acts in the bar. “That wasn’t me trying to flirt.” You quickly retorted. That was the honest truth that you’d be abiding by. You were too nervous to do anything except giggle like a dumbass so that’s what you did.

“I can’t help the fact I try to be polite. Even if they’re verging sexual harassment.” 

You’d try to keep it light hearted with a quip. Joel didn’t laugh. Pursing his lips into a line before speaking. It only pissed him off more.

“Not what I’m sayin’.”

You breathe. What the hell did this man want from you if it wasn’t some reasoning from your lips? The road was wet, asphalt glistening with a sheen of rain making light reflect easily off like a mirror. As Joel turned his brights on to properly see through the dark road that light reflected into the truck. The formally dark truck.

Your gaze was pulled to his lap. An accident at first but–

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

His cock would writhe against the tightening denim of his jeans. If that didn’t tell you enough you didn’t know what would. 

Joel’s hands flex against the wheel, the veins in his hands popping.

“Whatever you say, M’not fuckin, jealous.”

No no, he was.

And the tension rolling off of him is suffocating, filling the small front space of the truck like a thick fog. Choking you. You could almost still feel the touch he left on you. The phantom of his fingertips that had branded your skin only a few minutes ago now.

He wanted you to touch him and it wasn’t a secret anymore. 

You reached your hand out to place on his thigh. The way his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. Yeah, he fucking needed this. You felt your own stomach bloom with heat as your fingertips just barely scathed the denim of his jeans. You were just so close. Closer than you’ve ever been. And if this is something to forever be forbidden,

For all you know this could be as close as you’ll ever be. 

He adjusted his hips. Spreading his legs as if to coax you, as if to tell you this is the right thing. Maybe it was too vague. He took a hand off the wheel as he began soothing more into things. His shoulders finally relaxed as he took a long. Deep breath in. Then out. His fingertips danced along the crotch of your own jeans. Pressing the pad of his middle against your extremely clothed clit, muscle memory of where he knew it was.

He knew.

It was that touch that made your legs wanna buckle. Your cunt clench. 

Your palm soothed up his thigh as he focused on the road. Eyes adjusting, focusing. While his cock focused all by himself. Finally your smaller hand went to the tent in his jeans. Taking your pointer and tracing a line up the curve of the bulge. Wooing a twitch from him. His finger pushed harder into your clothed heat. Rewarding him in your first gasp of the night. 

“Jesus, baby. Soon enough I’ll be the one with the broken nose.”

A jest like that was hard to process currently. 

“What do you mean-?” 

Joel takes his hand away from between your legs just for a second to turn the radio on. Very very low, some old 80’s rock song came on. The background noise almost calming.

“Your daddy.” He’d grunt. “If he ever knew I was touchin’ you–”

“I know. My mouth is shut.”

It was a promise. A promise as your palm slipped beneath his belt.

Home sweet home.

Once the front door was closed the exchanges between your mouths were all teeth and tongue. Messy, sloppy. No shortage of drool dribbling down either of your chins. His fingers latching around the hem of your tank top as he pulled it over your head. No bra. Less work for him. 

It was like clockwork how his big, rough hands scooped under your thighs to grab you, pick you up with a strained grunt ripping from his chest. He couldn’t remember a time where his cocks been this hard. He could almost completely promise that it’s never been. It was heavy and once his jeans were pulled down it was hanging heavy, loose in his boxers. Though his flannel stayed on. Unbuttoned, fabric framing his tummy and bare, soft chest. 

You laid on his bed, splayed upon his blankets like a goddess as you awaited for him to finishing taking his clothes off. But he just couldn’t fuckin’ wait. The sight of you laying there, helpless. Those pretty, lace panties he wanted to rip off with his teeth made his brain turn to mush. He crawled on top of you, leaning down to place a hot kiss on your throat as his hands moved down to your ass. 

“Don’t got time to take you over the knee, baby.”

This sentence came with a squeeze to the soft flesh of your ass. Flipping you over belly-down with his fingers tangled in your hair. Face stuffed into the pillow.

His hand came down firm on your lace clad ass. Watching the thickness of the skin ripple. 

Again. Harder.

You let out a sharp whine at the feeling. Each left with a stinging buzz that lingered within the plush skin. You were addicted. Though, what was fun for a moment was soon boring for Mister Miller, his cock in a painful state in the confines of his boxers. Feeling like he was gonna burst any good moment now. 

But were you ready?

He flipped you back on your back in a sinfully quick motion. One of his practiced, old hands laid flat against your stomach before slipping down beneath the lace of your panties, hooking a finger to the side before pulling them down. They were damp. That just wouldn’t suffice for him. His finger tested the waters, how gluey, slick your folds were. Taking what was currently dripping out of your hole and spreading it around like a glaze. 

He dipped his head down into your sternum, his lips pressing firmly against the skin there before he deliberately moved to one of your tits. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the already hard nipple before taking it between his teeth. 

“Fuck-! Joel-”

Funny, when you touched yourself you weren’t nearly this loud. 

This sensitive. 

The tip of his tongue swirled around the bud, it was smooth against his tongue. Warmer than your skin. His hips dug down deep into his own mattress. Mussing the blankets beneath both of your bodies as if they were neat before. He squeezed your other breast with his free hand, continuing his ministries just for another moment. Keeping his moments practiced and planned for the time being. He flicked your unintended, rock-hard bud with his free hand. Mind Numbing stimulation coursing throughout your body. 

Your hand came down to paw at his erection straining painfully against the grey cotton of his boxers.

“Oh–”  

He groaned, his hips pressing into yours before you could touch more. Clamping himself down so the only way you could feel him throb would be against your thigh.

“You think you’re ready, baby? Ready for my cock?”

Of course the answer was yes. He knew the answer was yes how you were writhing, practically salivating at the thought. Both panting like dogs. He pulled himself out of his boxers. The dim light of the room making it impossible to see was was between your legs. The details left unseen and unsaid as all you could rely on was feel.

You felt his head begin running up and down between your folds. With a girl so fuckin’ wet who needed lubracant. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began to push in. 

You’ve never felt anything like it.

Funnily enough. He’s never felt a girl like you either.

“Joel!” You’d squeal. “Fuck, Joel– JoelJoelJoelJoel–”

You were quickly chanting his name under your breath like an invocation. He was big though a three-letter word so simple as big was a fucking understatement. He was stretching out every ounce of your gummy walls. Your head craning backwards into his pillow. His pillow. The scent of his hair, his scent all seeping into your nose mixing with the sensations throughout your body.

“S’fuckin’-- shit, babygirl…”

Joel’s words were slurring together as if he had drank more than those two lousy whiskeys at the bar. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as you enveloped him. Clenching up every time the tip of his fat cock would graze your cervix. His hand pressed just over your pelvis. Feeling around, ‘til– oh fuck.

“Fuckkkkk… Feel that, baby?” You felt a lot of things right now, your body all too hyper-fixated on the feeling of him to focus on anything other than that. Then Joel took your hand. Trailing it down your stomach as he weakly supported himself with his left arm. Palm flat against the sheets. His bicep tense.

He brought your smaller hand down to your low stomach, feeling the bump there. The bump he was oh-so obsessed with. Jutting out against your palm. 

“S’my cock. Yeahhh. He wants you, s’fuckin’ bad.” 

He was barely there.

“--So. Fuckin’. Bad.”

He punctuated his words with every thrust. You wanted to call out, say something over and over again like your only fucking prayer. But words defied you in the moment. As soon as you felt the unbearable pressure build up in your gut, the pressure that took over, spilled from your pelvis to your pussy. You felt the wiry hairs that crowned his cock scratching against your clit only adding to the feeling. The feeling that was building and building. 

“Joel– I’m gonna–!”

It was so cliche. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it. Feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused. Your hips wriggled against his as your orgasm came ripping through your body. Leaning up as best you could to bury your face in his neck to gasp. Cry out into his ear as much as you well pleased as you felt your legs kick out, your thighs buzz.

His cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowing, becoming sloppier, rushed. His hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him til’ he was dry. Just wasn’t safe for an old man like him to blue-ball himself like this, huh?

“Fuck- she’s gonna milk daddy dry, ain’t she–?” He was trying to kill you.

With that it was only one more thick, deep thrust into your tight, throbbing cunt where he spilled his cum inside of you. Using what little energy he had left to paint those pretty walls white. Rolling his hips to drive his semen into your pretty little hole. His thumb pushed past your parted lips, your mouth quickly latching on. Cock-drunk, suckling on his thumb to muffle any whimpers. No more cries.

“Atta girl.”

He’d praise. His sweaty, damp body pressing heavily against yours. He didn’t wanna pull out. It’s almost like his body wanted him to stay this way until he was passin’ out. Though, he wouldn't let that happen. He slowly unsheathes his thick cock from your pussy with a wet, squelch as your walls adjust back to normal. Opaque, pearly cum dripping out of your cunt, drooling down your inner thighs all the way to your ass was pornographic. 

Reaching around the back of his head to seize a chunk of his greying, soft-to-the-touch curls. Your tongue licking his way into his mouth instead of his thumb. 

You felt absolutely and utterly euphoric. 

Laying with the blanket lazily draped over both of your bodies. Joel took a long sip from the bottle of alcohol, drinking it like water to refresh his mouth. He felt exasperated. He wouldn’t be able to pin point the last time sex made him feel this good if you were paying him a million bucks. But now he could say with you.

You tucked your face into his neck, taking in the scent of him, the stickiness of his skin. The salty scent of sex still lingering in the air around. 

It was silent. Like you were both trying to process what had happened within the last hour- hell, the last three. Even the whole bar thing seemed like an impossible daydream you’d watch on a soap, something that you’d say is unrealistic. 

“I was jealous.”

He murmured. Turning his attention back to you as the silence was officially broken. You could’ve figured as much.

“I guess I should be flattered.”

You’d giggle. Real and genuine. Not the fake one you put on for that pervert at the bar. 

“I’ve never had a man break another guy’s nose for me before.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Wrapping his warm arms around your body as he pulled you in close. The first time in twenty years his bed wasn’t empty and cold. A warm body tucked right against him, perfectly as if you belonged. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

[00valentina-writes00]

Abby fucking her anxious girlfriend to sleep before she leaves for a mission because she knows she'll worry too much otherwise?

♡♥︎Just Stay♥︎♡

Warnings: Fingering, oral sex, reader cums three times, lowkey live for loving softdom!Abby tbh.

You know she has to go.

You’ve known all day.

Still, when Abby tightens the straps of her gear, preparing for the night ahead, something inside you fractures. You’ve been watching her all evening, the slow ritual of her preparation feeding the anxious knot in your stomach.

She stands near the foot of the bed, back to you as she adjusts the buckles on her vest. The dim lantern light casts deep shadows over her frame, emphasizing the strong lines of her shoulders, the swell of muscle in her arms.

“You could just stay,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath

Abby pauses. Not long—just enough for you to catch the way her fingers still against the strap at her chest. Then she sighs, shaking her head as she turns to face you.

“You know I can’t, babe.”

Her voice is steady, but there’s a softness in it, a quiet apology wrapped between the words.

Your fingers twist in the sheets. You swallow against the tightness in your throat. “I don’t—” Your breath catches. “I don’t wanna go to sleep alone.”

Abby studies you for a moment, those sharp blue eyes tracing the worry carved into your face. Then she sets her gear aside, her movements slow, deliberate.

“Come here.”

You don’t hesitate. You move into her arms like it’s the only place you belong, pressing yourself against the solid warmth of her body. Her hands slide up your back, holding you firm, grounding you. She smells like gun oil and salt, the faintest trace of cedar clinging to her skin.

“You’re gonna be fine,” she murmurs, lips brushing against your hair. “You always are.”

You shake your head. “Not without you.”

A heavy silence settles between you. You know this isn’t fair—you’re asking her to choose between duty and you, and you already know the answer. But you just want a little more time. A little more of her before she disappears into the dark.

Abby shifts, her hands moving to cup your face. Her thumbs stroke gently over your cheekbones, grounding, soothing. She holds you like you’re fragile, even when you both know you’re not.

“Lay back for me,” she says, voice soft but firm.

Your breath hitches. You know that tone.

Still, you obey, leaning back against the pillows as Abby follows, bracing herself over you. She takes her time kissing you, letting it linger—deep, slow, and consuming. Her lips are warm, firm, parting just enough to let you taste the faint bitterness of her coffee from earlier.

She’s not rushing, and neither are you.

Her hands slide down, mapping the curves of your body with knowing precision. She peels your shirt off, pressing kisses down the newly exposed skin, trailing warmth down the length of your stomach.

“You need something to keep you in bed?” she murmurs against your skin.

You nod, already dizzy from the heat of her.

Abby hums, amused, before her fingers slip between your thighs, pressing against the damp fabric of your underwear.

“Already wet for me,” she murmurs, her voice thick with something darker. “God, baby, you make this too easy.”

She hooks her fingers into your waistband, dragging your underwear down slow, teasing. The way she looks at you, like she’s savoring every second, makes your breath catch.

And then her fingers press against your clit, just barely, and your hips jerk at the contact.

Abby chuckles. “Easy, sweetheart. We’ve got time.”

She keeps it slow at first, rubbing tight circles over your clit, dragging you into the sensation inch by inch. It’s almost too much and not enough at the same time. She knows exactly how to keep you on the edge, teasing you with just enough pressure to keep you wanting more

Your thighs tremble as she pushes two fingers into you, stretching you open with a slow, steady push.

“That’s it,” she breathes, watching your face as you gasp. “Relax for me, baby.”

It takes time. She builds you up carefully, her fingers curling inside you at just the right angle, the heel of her palm grinding against your clit with each slow thrust.

Your first orgasm isn’t rushed. It sneaks up on you, blooming warm and intense in your core before spreading outward in waves. You cling to her, gasping her name as your body shudders through it, the pleasure leaving you boneless against the sheets.

Abby doesn’t move away.

She presses kisses along your jaw, your throat, grounding you as you come down from the high. Her fingers stay inside you, slow and gentle, coaxing you back into the moment.

“That’s one,” she murmurs. “Think you can give me another?”

You nod, still breathless.

Abby takes her time with the second. She keeps her fingers deep, her pace unhurried, letting the aftershocks of your first orgasm melt into the buildup of the next. She never stops touching you, never stops whispering soft, reassuring things against your skin.

It’s slower this time—deeper, more drawn out. By the time the pleasure crests again, you’re shaking, your body hypersensitive from the lingering heat of the last climax.

“That’s it, baby,” Abby praises as she feels you tighten around her fingers. “Let me have it.”

Your second orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping against her shoulder, nails digging into her biceps. This one leaves you dazed, lost in the heavy warmth settling over your limbs.

You barely notice when Abby shifts, moving down the bed until her mouth replaces her fingers.

The first swipe of her tongue sends a full-body shudder through you.

“Abby—” Your voice is wrecked, but she just hums against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine

“You can take one more,” she murmurs, before sealing her lips around your clit and sucking, slow and deep.

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. Your hips jerk, your hands twisting in the sheets. The overstimulation borders on unbearable, but Abby knows how to push you past it, how to turn it into something that melts your mind into bliss.

She takes her time dragging you to the edge. Her tongue is methodical, her fingers pressing deep, working you open again and again until you can’t think, can’t do anything but take it.

Your third orgasm is different. It doesn’t crash—it drowns you, slow and all-consuming. Your entire body tenses, then unravels, pleasure seeping into your bones, leaving you limp and trembling beneath her.

Everything is too warm. Too heavy. Your breathing is slow, deep, your mind floating somewhere between sleep and bliss.

Abby presses one last kiss to your thigh before moving back up, gathering you in her arms.

“You still worried about me leaving?” she murmurs against your temple.

You try to answer, but your tongue is thick, your body weighted by exhaustion. A sleepy sound escapes instead, and Abby chuckles, pulling you closer.

“That’s what I thought.”

She tucks the blanket over you, her arms locked around your waist, her breath warm against your hair.

“Go to sleep, baby,” she whispers. “I’ll be back before you wake up.”

And this time, you believe her.

[littlemissoblivious]

Ok, that's a really cute thought that your watch snitches on you.