#last shot
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why did star wars stories stop having cool names? all the skywalker saga titles are sick, they tie into the plot of the movie and have a really epic feel to them. rogue one is a fine title, sounds star wars-y enough without sounding like a mainline story. but solo? obi-wan kenobi? andor? those are just the names of the characters! nothing wrong with it, comics have been doing it for decades with no detriment to the actual stories being told but...it's just kinda lame yk? ultimate brand recognition is just what comes to mind. clone wars is fine, rebels is ok, they both sound like tv show titles and do a decent job expressing the grandeur (especially cw) of the stories in each show. but book of boba fett? it doesn't even attempt to be like a book?? i honestly couldn't think of what to call them otherwise though. solo wouldn't really work with a title like birth of the smuggler or something, that just sounds stupid. but the books get away with it, the solo sequel book is called last shot, which is cool! obviously a reference to han's contentious firing in anh as well as a direct tie in to the books plot. (speaking of, can we bring back kassha please? can we make her being kadara's mother canon?? i like her)
maybe we were spoiled with the awesome titles of the mainline movies. maybe it's better to give side stories more generic, industry standard names. but i still like trying to think of how the title fits into the story, figuring out who the phantom menace is, if the last jedi is singular or plural, who the attack from the clones was truly upon. i just think it's neat
ps: i realized after tagging this that having the names of the characters just be the names of the show/movie makes it hard to differentiate between tagging the media and tagging the character so...another point to unique naming
#star wars#ok time to tag all the properties i mentioned...#rogue one#solo: a star wars story#obi wan kenobi series#andor#the clone wars#star wars rebels#book of boba fett#last shot#kaasha bateen
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curious about the choice not to wear underwear with the nun costume⌠just let the cheeks hangin out
he was but shhhh, let your mind wander
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#toni collette#toni collette icons#tonicollette#movie#movie icons#icons#the night listener#about a boy#connie and carla icons#Connie and Carla#diana and me#emma#emma movie#emma movie icons#emma 1996#last shot#like minds#icon
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Howwy, if you have reached this post, imma want to tell you that imma will miss you⌠imma know Imma not the best purrson, but these last 5 days imma felt bad, thanks to someone who wanted to give me a fifth trauma like 4 traumas⌠imma already imma had enough traumas in this life, the truth is that imma never thought that a trauma would be a greet weight for my purrsona⌠the laste thinq imma will say is that imma am going to miss them⌠this will be the last post imma will do, since imma going to be in the dream field with my mother⌠imma miss her a lot just the same, she, like the rest of my family, imma consider her a father figure to follow⌠thank you very, very much for every-thinq⌠today already imma will not be without strinqs, that is to say imma will perish⌠goodbye to all my mutual fwiends⌠Rest in peace 2005-2023
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Bedridden
If you had cough syrup, youâd use that to put his ass to sleep. But you donât, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man. đđŚâ¤ď¸âđĽ
Joel is sick and refuses to rest, so you knock him out the best way you know how. (5.4k)
Tags - smut, lotsa sexual tension, blow jobs, pussy pronouns, teasing, fingering, unprotected piv, riding the sick old manâs cock, creampie, non-graphic descriptions of being sick. JOEL DOES THE DAD SNEEZE. coughing, fevers. Thatâs all. Joel is stubborn and grumpy while you take care of his old as fuck ass. Arguing with the old man, forcing the old man to bathe, forcing the old man to eat and drink, forcing a thermometer in the old manâs mouth. Joel bitching you out the whole time. Joel is kind of exactly like Dennis in IASIP when the gang gets quarantined. Fic Help - My usuals! @beefrobeefcal, your unhinged comments on the doc were the best part. and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your help <3 A/N - Heyyyyyyy. I promised this fic yesterday and then didnât deliver. Sorry. It just needed to marinate in the doc a little longer or something. Itâs been a bullshit ass few days and Iâm,,,,handling it. Anyway, Iâve been sick as balls so thatâs how this fic came about. Everybody wash your hands đ§ź
Thereâs a fine point late in the year, right after summer turns to fall. You can fall asleep with the window over your bed cracked open just an inch to let the crisp, cool air blow over your face as you cocoon yourself in blankets. In the mornings you wake to that same breeze and the birds chirping, though less and less as they fly south for the upcoming winter.Â
Not this morning, though. This morning, youâre awoken by a chesty, hacking cough coming from outside your window. You sigh as you get out of bed and push the curtains away from the window to get a better look at what the hell is going on out there.Â
And itâs just your neighbor, Joel. You should have guessed itâd be him, you heard his earth shattering, deafening sneeze the other day when you waved to him as you walked by his house. Joel waved back at you with the same hand he sneezed into. Ew.Â
Everyoneâs getting sick lately, it goes around quickly in Jackson. Always does - it starts with the kids and works its way through the community, and a good four to six weeks are filled with endless sneezing and coughing and mucus.
Joelâs coughing up his lungs as he rakes up the leaves in your yard, a job heâs seemingly assigned himself, because you sure as shit didnât ask him to do this. He has a habit of taking on your chores and home maintenance out of his own frustration.Â
You pull a robe over your pajamas and slide on a pair of slippers, then leave out of the front door to greet Joel. âGood morning, Joel.âÂ
Joel clears his throat. âSâactually noon, lazy ass. âBout time ya woke up.â
âWanna tell me what youâre doing?â
âExactly what it looks like.â He sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Gross. âMâworkinâ.âÂ
âYeah, I see that. But you sound sick.âÂ
Joel ignores the accusation, âYour yard looks like shit, by the way,â he says. âWouldnât kill ya to rake once in a while. âStead of makinâ me do it.âÂ
âYou choose to do this. I donât make you do anything,â you argue, rolling your eyes. Itâs funny, though. Joelâs turning into the caricature of the old man angrily shaking his fist at kids playing on his lawn. All crotchety and pissed off about nothing. You step closer to him and wrap your hand around the handle of the rake, pulling it towards yourself. âBesides, Mother Nature put those leaves there for a reason,â you add.Â
âSure, smartass. For you to ignore and for me to clean up. Now, give it,â Joel tugs the rake back. Whatever. You let him. Joel rakes more of your leaves into the pile heâs created, then doubles over in another coughing fit. You rub your palm on his back, patting him gently. Heâs sweating through his flannel. âOh, Christ. Fuck me.âÂ
âJoel, you look awful.â
You help him stand up, âYouâre a terrible flirt, darlinâ,â Joel replies dryly. But he knows youâre not wrong. He saw in the mirror how pale he looked this morning, the dark circles around his eyes.Â
âOh, shut up.â You press the back of your hand against Joelâs forehead, all sweaty and warm. âYouâre burning up, Joel. Youâre sick.âÂ
âI am not sick,â Joel protests through another cough. âIâm fine. How âbout you worry âbout yourself âstead of fussinâ over me.â
âYouâre hacking up a lung in my yard. Iâll worry about you all I want, thank you.â
In response, Joel grumbles something you canât quite make out. You roll your eyes and take the rake from him, dropping it on the grass. âMy rake,â Joel murmurs, annoyed and defeated. With your work clearly cut out for you, you take his hand and lead him into your house. âAw, hell. Whatâre you doinâ to me.âÂ
âTaking care of you,â you reply.
âDidnât sign up for this bullshit,â Joel complains. âI donât need takinâ care of.â
Oh, heâs a peach. Most men, when sick, are total babies - pathetically crying about their headaches and stomachaches to women who deal with the same symptoms on a monthly basis. Itâs charming, truly. But not Joel, though. In his stubbornness, Joel refuses to ever admit when heâs sick, like heâs got something to prove. Can never let himself be taken care of, because thatâs his job - to take care of others. Always has been.Â
Once inside, you have Joel take off his boots, then usher him to the bathroom with a hand on his back, his flannel damp with sweat. âSit.â You reach for Joelâs shoulders and push him down, forcing him onto the lidded toilet. You crouch down at the bathtub and plug the drain with the stopper, then turn the water on - not too hot, not too cold. âYeah, this is good. Thisâll make you feel so much better.âÂ
âOh, câmon. Turn off the damn water. Iâm not takinâ a bath.âÂ
âYou are, too.âÂ
âAm not.âÂ
âJoel,â you bite. Joel parrots your name back in the same threatening tone.
âWeâre breaking that fever one way or another, Joel. So you bathe yourself, or Iâll do it.âÂ
Joel cocks an eyebrow. âOh, will ya, now?â
You go quiet, no retort to his comment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you focus on the bathtub filling with water to avoid Joelâs taunting gaze. After a long enough silence passes, Joel changes the subject. âI donât have any clean clothes, yâknow.âÂ
âThen Iâll grab you some from your house,â you mumble.
âMm,â Joel grunts. âGot an answer for everything, donâtcha?â
You glare. Joel glares too. You fold your arms across your chest and raise your eyebrows at him. You are not losing this battle.Â
Joel sighs in defeat. âAlright, go on anâ get, then. Iâll take the fuckinâ bath if itâll get me fifteen minutes away from you obsessinâ over me. There. Happy?âÂ
âHappy.â
You leave Joel in the bathroom to bathe himself, closing the door behind you. Still wearing nothing but pajamas and a robe, you change quickly into a hoodie and jeans, then leave through your front door for the second time.
Joelâs house is right next to yours, so itâs not a long walk. Mentally, youâre kicking yourself for your stupid threat to bathe Joel. The way he responded to it, âOh, will ya?â and how bashful that made you, the embarrassment written all over your face in big, black, permanent marker. Your crush on the older man is obvious, and Joel, never the gentleman, will jump at any opportunity to make you squirm. Like when he catches your eyes lingering on him for a little too long, heâll tease you for it. âSârude to stare, yâknow,â heâll taunt, always with that stupid fucking grin on his face. Smile lines framing his cheeks, crows feet handsomely peeking at the corners of his eyes. You really need to stop setting yourself up for these things.Â
Once in Joelâs house, you head upstairs for his bedroom and rifle through his dresser drawers for some comfy clothes. You pick out a pair of plaid boxers, some gray sweatpants, and a navy waffle-knit henley. You bunch up his clothes and inhale, Joelâs natural smell still lingering in the clothes, even washed.Â
In his kitchen, you notice some vegetables sitting out on his countertops. Carrots, potatoes, onions. You grab those too, then check the fridge for leftover chicken or turkey or something. He usually has some, and usually brings it to you after heâs had his fill. âThis is for you, trouble. Cause yâdonât eat enough,â heâll gruff. âWould you like me to heat it up for ya?â And whether you say yes or no, he always does. It seems to make him happy or fulfill him somehow, so you let him take care of you like that. If only heâd let you return the favor.
Bingo. Thereâs chicken in old Tupperware right on the top shelf, and yesterdayâs date written in Joelâs terrible handwriting from an old, dried up Sharpie. You take that too, then go back home.Â
You leave Joelâs food you stole on the kitchen table and stop at your linen closet for a fresh towel. You knock on the bathroom door, âJoel?â
âYeah, darlinâ.â
âI have your clothes. And a towel.â
âGood. I need those,â Joel says. âCâmon in, then.âÂ
You open the door, averting your eyes from Joelâs naked body in the bathtub. âRelax. Mânot gonna let you see somethinâ you ainât âsposed to.â Heâs got his hands covering his manhood, the rest of himself on display - toned biceps, veined forearms. His belly is pillowy and hairy and his legs look so long, all bare like this. His toes peeking out of the soapy bathwater. You set the towel and his clothes down on the toilet, stealing an even longer look at him when you think he doesnât notice. âI see ya snoopinâ, trouble. Wanna take a picture?â
You roll your eyes and ignore the offer, turning your attention to Joel but keeping your eyes focused on his face. His hair is slicked back, and his grays pop out against the rest of his dark hair, little ringlet curls at his neck. The asshole is criminally handsome.Â
âAre you feeling better?â
âI feel fine. Like Iâve felt all day,â Joel lies. His body betrays him instantly when another cough wracks through him.Â
âRight. Well, you smell better, at least.âÂ
Joel rolls his eyes, âNice one, sweetheart. Thanks. Now scram, so I can get dressed.âÂ
You leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind yourself again. You can hear the sound of the bathtub draining and Joel getting out of the tub as you stop at the linen closet again, this time grabbing some queen sized sheets and pillowcases.Â
In your living room, you pull some cushions off of your sofa and pull out the built-in bed, then dress it with the sheets and an old floral quilt. You cover your own pillows in the pillowcases, then fluff them nicely and set them up for Joel, whoâs leaving the bathroom now, combing his hair back.
âStole your comb,â he says, tossing it for you to catch. He stops in the living room and looks at the pull-out bed that you made up, the corners of the sheets tucked in and everything. âThe hellâs all this?â
âExactly what it looks like,â You mock his words from earlier. âYour bed.â
âYouâre beinâ ridiculous. I ainât even sick.â
You ignore Joel and point to the bed. âGet in.â
Joel rolls his eyes but gets in the bed anyway, springs squeaking under his weight. âMânot gettinâ in this bed âcause Iâm sick or âcause youâre makinâ me. Just feel like sittinâ.âÂ
âSure, Joel,â you sigh. âHow much water have you had today?â
âPlenty.â
âHow much is plenty?â
âItâs enough,â he snaps impatiently. You leave him just for a second to fill a glass with some water, then bring it to him. Joel pushes the glass away, âI said Iâve had enough.âÂ
âIâll decide whatâs enough, now hereââ you put the glass into his hand, âDrink.âÂ
Joel drinks the entirety of the glass, glaring at you the entire time. Good god, if looks could fucking kill. The cool water soothes his scratchy, sore throat, but Joel wonât tell you that. âYouâre a tyrant, sweetheart,â he tells you, voice raspy and low. What he doesnât tell you, however, is that if the shoe were on the other foot and you were the sick one right now, he'd be just as overbearing over your health. Probably worse.Â
You pout mockingly at Joel as you take his glass. âStay here. Donât get up.âÂ
You get up from the bed to go into the kitchen and begin preparing a soup for Joel to soothe his aching throat. You start by dicing onions, then chopping some carrots. You toss them in a large pot with some butter, letting the vegetables soften. Youâve even got some leftover bread you made yesterday, so you turn on your oven to heat it up. You can hear Joel getting restless, tossing and turning in the less than comfortable bed. Probably should have turned on a movie for him, left him a book or something to occupy his restless mind. âYou okay?â
âMâfine. Mind your business.âÂ
You open Joelâs Tupperware and chop up his chicken into little bits. When you look up, Joelâs out of bed. You scoff. Heâs forcing open your window, grunting as it squeaks. âJoel, what did I tell you? Get your ass back in that bed.â
âRelax, would ya? Mâtryinâ to get some air in here.â Joel successfully forces the window open, and cool air blows into your tediously warmed home. âHouse is a fuckinâ oven.â
âYeah, well, thatâs probably your fever talking, dumbass. Put my window down.âÂ
âI really outta fix this window for ya. Ainât good to leave it like this. Iâll get my tools anâ Iââ
You march across the kitchen and into the living room, knife in hand and using it to point to the bed. âJoel.â
âYou scare me,â Joel mumbles, raising his arms in surrender. He closes the sticky window for you, then you march him back to the pullout. Before Joel lays down, he glances in the kitchen at what youâve been cooking. He heard the sounds of you chopping, but with his nose all congested he canât smell enough to hazard a guess as to what youâve been making. Joel narrows his eyes at the stolen Tupperware on your table, the carrots and onion peels to the side, and recognizes it all as his. âIs that myâŚ?âÂ
âJust lay down, Joel.âÂ
âDid you take that from my fridge?âÂ
âI did.â
Youâre completely shameless about this, thereâs not even a half-assed attempt at lying your way out, and Joelâs beside himself. âYou stole from me, you littleââ You urge Joel into bed, fluffing the pillows behind him as you ignore his tantrum. âYou are unbelievable. I could throttle you, you know that?â
âGo ahead, Joel,â you challenge. A slight breeze could knock this sick old man down to his knees. You tuck Joel into the sheets, then adjust the quilt over him again. And this time before leaving him, you grab an old book of word searches in a basket under an end table. âHere.â You toss it to him along with a dull pencil. That should keep him busy.
Back in the kitchen, youâre still working on Joelâs soup. Itâs bubbling away on the stove, and youâve just finished making egg noodles to make the dish a little heartier. Something to stick to his ribs. It hits you then, that you donât hear sniffling or coughing. Joelâs gone quiet, suspiciously so.Â
And lo and be-fucking-hold, Joelâs up again. This time, with tools. Tools that you donât have, tools that he must have snuck out and grabbed from his home at some point. âJoel!âÂ
âThere,â Joel says, moving your window up and down seamlessly. âWindowâs fixed.âÂ
âHow many times do I have to say it?âÂ
âHow about you try a âthank youâ, huh?â Joel shoots back.
You shoo him back to bed. You slice a bit of warm bread, then ladle some soup into a bowl and bring it to him with a spoon. âEat,â you tell him.Â
Joel eats a spoonful, and itâs written all over his face how much he enjoys it, the warm broth relieving his sore throat. âSo whatâd you poison it with, huh?â
âOh, youâre such a dick.âÂ
Joel smiles, only teasing. âMâsorry. Sâjust that you shouldnât be doinâ all this for me, sâall.â Joel squeezes your knee comfortingly. âThank you. I mean it, darlinâ.â Heâll let you feed him, but no more than that. Youâre too sweet for your own good. âSâgood soup.â
âIâm glad you like it, you asshole.â You smile too, and push some of Joelâs hair out of his face. He finishes his bowl of soup, even has a second one. You take his bowl away and wash it at the sink.
âShould let me do that,â Joel says, following you into the kitchen. âAinât that how it works? One cooks, the other cleans.â Joel bumps you to the side and takes the soapy dish from your hands.
âMaybe another time,â you offer, attempting to take back the bowl. âDonât want your germs on my dinnerware.â But Joel holds on tight, so you let him wash the dish. Since he wants to die on this hill. So you dry your hands, then feel his forehead once again. You frown, displeased that the bath didnât work at curbing his fever at all. Heâs still burning up. âIâll be right back.âÂ
You go to your bathroom and open the cabinet vanity, where you have an old Walgreens thermometer, the paint all smudged off. You wash it with soap and water in the sink, then return to Joel. Amazingly, you find him in the bed doing his word search puzzle, and you didnât even have to tell him to go lay down this time.Â
The bed creaks under you as you sit down next to him. You put his book down, âOpen,â you tell him, thermometer in hand.
âOh, câmon now,â Joel complains. âGet that thermometer outta my face.â Â
You shake your head no, and tug on Joel's chin so that he opens his mouth. You place the thermometer under his tongue and he closes his lips around it, staring daggers at you the entire time thermometer reads his temperature.Â
Heâs so handsome. Big, sparkling brown eyes underneath brows knit together in irritation. Pouting lips. Age looks good on him, perfectly both softens and enhances his rougher edges.
The thermometer beeps. You read the temperature, 102.3°F. Why Joelâs even upright with a fever like this is a mystery, but thatâs men for you. Fucking idiots. âThatâs a hell of a fever youâre running, Joel.â
âYouâre fullâa shit. Gimme that.â Joel sniffles and snatches the thermometer from you to read the number for himself. He shrugs. âSâold. Probably faulty. Canât trust it.â Joel covers his mouth with his elbow and coughs loudly.Â
âYouâre old and faulty too, Joel. Look at you.â You offer him a handkerchief to wipe his nose. âYouâre falling apart.âÂ
Joel scowls at you before blowing his nose. You leave him once more, this time to bring him a cool, damp rag. You press it against his forehead, and Joel closes his eyes. âDoes that feel nice?â
âNo. Quit that.âÂ
But Joelâs body betrays him. Heâs sighing in relief, and his tensed muscles loosen. His breathing, while still shallow, has slowed as much as it can, soft belly rising and falling with steady breaths.
âAre you falling asleep?âÂ
âNo, Iâm not. Mânot tired,â Joel argues. He tries adjusting the now lukewarm rag, warmed by his body heat.
âYou should sleep.â
âNah.â
 You take the damp rag off of Joelâs forehead and flip it so that the cooler side soothes his hot, feverish skin. âYou know, Joel, I think this is why god made women. To take care of stupid, sick men like you.â
âHm. Could be so. But I think he sent you to me as a punishment of sorts.âÂ
âIs that so? A punishment?â
âSâright. Anâ some day, youâll fool some poor man into marryinâ you and heâll have to put up with this same shit the rest of his life. I donât envy that sorry bastard one bit.âÂ
âOh, I know,â you coo, wiping away a droplet of water that rolls down his temple. âYou tell me all about it, Joel. Tell me how terrible it is.â
âOh, I intend to.â Joel continues his tirade, bitching and moaning about how you're doing too much, that none of this is necessary. âQuit fussinâ over meâ and so on.
You know that after this, Joel will try to leave you, go home and fiddle with things in his home that arenât broken - or worse yet, heâll tinker with the things in yours that he deems in need of fixing. Squeaky door, creaky floor panels. You listen to his slight wheezing, his sniffling, his voice all raspy and broken. He really does need to rest, the poor man.Â
If you had cough syrup, youâd use that to put his ass to sleep. But you donât, so you decide to utilize a different technique, one that always successfully incapacitates a man.Â
You remove the damp rag from Joelâs head and set it on the coffee table behind you. Joelâs eyes are shut as he takes shallow breaths, and you trace lazy patterns on his stomach, inching your way down, down, until youâre rubbing his warm bulge, feeling him stiffen beneath your touch. âGoddamnit, what the hell are you doinâ tâme, now?â Joel groans. He takes your wrist and squeezes it gently in his grip.
âNothing, Joel,â you answer innocently.
 âBullshit, itâs - youâre - oh, fuck.â Joel bucks into your palm. You slide your hand beneath his sweatpants to touch his bare cock, amused at how Joel decided against wearing boxers today. âYouâre killinâ me, sweetheart. You gotta, you canâtââ
âShhh,â you hush him. You drag your nails through his patch of coarse hair, playing with those long and wiry hairs. You palm his cock again, half hard and growing harder by the second. Before this goes further, you tug his sweatpants down his thighs. âLift up for me, Joel.â
Joel lifts his hips and you tug his sweats down the rest of the way, then continue touching him. You spit into your hand and pump him from top to bottom, taking special care to gently massage his balls when you reach the base of his cock. âOhh, darlinâ. Oh lord.âÂ
Joelâs stiffened to full length now. You kiss the tip of his cock, all the way down his shaft before licking your way back up, one long, fat stripe. You swirl your tongue around the head and dip your head, teasing him with it as you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him down your throat with each pass.
Joel moans, his sick voice breaking a little. He keeps a heavy hand on your bobbing hand and wonders what the hell he did to deserve this from you. He should have stopped fighting his sickness long ago if this is what was in the cards for him.Â
Realization dawns on Joel. It all makes sense, why youâre sucking him off at this particular moment. Youâre trying to put him to bed, you goddamn deviant. âYouâre trouble,â he accuses. âI know exactly what youâre doinâ.âÂ
âHmm?â You turn your head to Joel, his cock still in your mouth. You bounce it against your inner cheek, and Joel groans at the lewd image of his cockhead bulging in your mouth.
âYeah,â Joel says. âAnd let me - oh, fuck-â You drop your head low, taking all of him into your mouth. So deep that your nose is buried in his pubic hair. âLet me tell ya, darlinâ, what youâre doin - it ainât gonna work on me.â
You pull off of his cock with a pop. âIt wonât?â
Joel shakes his head. âMm-mm. Youâre wastinâ your time.âÂ
âOh. Well, I should stop, then.âÂ
You begin to pull off of his cock, but Joel forces you back down. âNah, you donât have t - you gotta give it your best shot, right?â
You smile with Joelâs cock in your mouth. What a fucking guy. You pull off of him only momentarily, garnering a protesting groan spilling from his lips. You take off your shirt and unbutton your pants. âLemme help you with that, câmere, darlinâ,â Joel says, pulling your pants and panties down your legs. He unclasps your bra next, then sheds his own clothing.Â
You take him right back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his length. This time, though, you play with your pussy. As you move up and down Joelâs shaft, you slip through your folds, dipping down to your wet hole to gather your arousal on your fingertips. You circle your clit a couple of times, then push your fingers in and out of your pussy.Â
âYou fuckinâ yourself on your fingers, sweetheart?â
âMm-hm,â you hum, mouth stuffed full of Joelâs cock.
Joel pulls your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own, much thicker and longer ones. âLet me,â he says. âSâmy job. Shouldnât have tâdo that to yourself, âless you wanna. Or if I say so.âÂ
Joel spreads your thighs wider. He moves his pointer and middle fingers up and down, exploring your slick, velvety pussy. He sucks those two fingers and then his thumb and rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, all swollen and wet with your arousal. You moan at the action, the vibration of your voice traveling right down his shaft and to his balls. He bucks himself into your mouth.
Joel inserts his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping in and out slowly before curling them upward, stroking right where you need him to. âGot a nice fuckinâ pussy,â he purrs with his hoarse, gravelly voice. You pulse around his fingers, and Joel admires the way your tight hole hugs him as he moves in and out of you. âSheâs makinâ such a mess, drippinâ all over me.âÂ
You twist your fist up and down Joelâs shaft as you suck him, working him closer and closer to the edge. Joelâs content with this, the prospect of coming down your throat and fucking you with his fingers. But you have a different idea, and when his balls are tightening and his shaft is twitching, his breathing quickening, you pull off of him.Â
Joel groans in frustration, but his anger is quickly eased when you straddle his hips. You reach between your legs for his cock and stroke it, dragging the tip through your folds, up and down, up and down, dipping it in and out of yourself to tease him. âYouâre fightinâ dirty.âÂ
 Joelâs exercised enough self control today and doesnât let you tease him for long. He puts both of his large, weathered, and masculine hands on your waist and pulls you right down on his cock, the initial penetration causing a stretch so intense you see stars for a second. âOh god, Joel,â you moan, clutching his shoulders.Â
âI know, I know,â Joel whispers, rubbing your back. âYou good, sweetheart? You need a minute?â
 âJust - just a second.â
 âTake your time. Know itâs a lot, youâll get used to it.âÂ
Joel gives you a second, then inches you up and down on his cock to get you adjusted to the sensation of being so full of him. Soon enough, the ache dissipates and is replaced with pleasure, nothing but pure pleasure. You rest against his hot body, rocking your hips to grind against his pubic bone.Â
You know that by the way he bucked his hips into your mouth, how he pulled you down on his cock, how even now he moves you, that heâll tire himself out. Your plan was simply to make him come to knock him out, but this - this works too. Exhaust his body, get yourself off in the process. Killing two birds with one stone.Â
Joel fucks you harder now, hands on your ass to move you up and down on his cock. He bends his legs at the knee for more leverage, bouncing you on his lap. âThatâs it, sweetheart,â he grunts. He moves you so that your chest is right above his face, and one at a time, sucks your nipples into his mouth, teeth lightly grazing them.Â
You hold onto Joelâs broad shoulders to steady yourself, looking down at him as he fucks himself into you. Heâs so handsome, cheeks and chest all flushed red, a sheen of sweat glittering at his hairline, his graying curls damp. Joelâs eyebrows are knit together as he fucks you, tracing your curves with his gaze. He pulls you against his chest as he ruts against you, his scruff scratching your skin so deliciously. âTakinâ me so good. Look so pretty on my cock like this.âÂ
You move at his will. Joelâs underneath you, rocking himself in and out of your dripping, tight pussy. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips stuttering in a non-rhythm as he pushes himself inside you over and over. He must be getting close now.Â
âUp, sweetheart. Lean back fâme.âÂ
You peel yourself off of Joelâs middle, all slick with his sweat. Joel spits into his hand and presses the calloused pads of his fingertips against your clit. You roll your hips against him, savoring that much-needed friction against your clit.
âLike that, darlinâ. Jusâ like that. Fuck yourself on my cock,â Joel says, rubbing your sensitive bud with tight circles. âGonna watch you come all over me.âÂ
âYeah,â you moan, âWanna come for you.âÂ
Joel loves you like this. Your face contorted in pleasure, mouth agape, body quivering and twitching on top of him. He steadily massages your wet, swollen clit and wears a crooked smile when he feels your cunt start to pulse around him. And you think youâre pulling one over on him, but look at you, all fucked out and delirious. Youâll probably crash after this, and Joel will go right back to fixing up your house. Thereâs a door hinge thatâs been squeakingâŚ
âOh my - Joel, Iâm - Iâm gonna -âÂ
âKnow you are, sweetheart. Let me have it,â he groans, voice all broken and hoarse. âCome all over my cock, darlinâ. Let go fâme.âÂ
That hot, sticky pleasure in your gut begins to intensify rapidly. You go quiet just before it happens, then let out a long, whimpering moan when your orgasm takes over your body. You shudder and jerk as Joel fucks you through your release, and once youâve ridden it out, Joel pulls you tight against his chest.Â
While you come down from your high, Joel frantically fucks you, slamming his hips against yours as he chases his own climax, balls tightening and his belly filling with warmth. âOh, goddamn. Fuck, fuck, fuck,â Joel pants as he comes, painting your insides with his hot seed, the warmth of his release and the pulsing of his cock so satisfying.Â
Coming down from his orgasm, a wave of exhaustion hits Joel. He finds himself unable to move, unable to open his heavy eyelids. He mightâve been wrong, because napping away the rest of the afternoon doesnât sound quite so bad, now.
You pull your body off of Joelâs and he lets out a sighing grunt when his softening cock slides out of your body, the mess he created with you spilling all over his lap. You grab that washrag you held against his forehead and clean him up and then yourself, then get up to dispose of it.Â
Joel grabs you by the arm, his grip weak. âDonât you go anywhere, trouble,â he grumbles.Â
âBut Iâve gotta take care of this, Joel,â you protest.Â
âDeal with it later. Just -â Joel yawns and pulls you down and holds you tight against his chest, as tight as he can, anyway. âJusâ stay with me a minute.âÂ
Joelâs eyes are still shut, and his breathing becomes slow and rhythmic. Itâs laughable how quickly sleep is taking over his sick, exhausted body, having used what little life he had in himself to fuck you stupid. Like that last burst of energy from a dying star. âI thought you werenât tired,â you tease.
Joel sniffles. âMânot.âÂ
âMhm. Sure.âÂ
âJust checkinâ my eyelids for holes.â
You push some curls out of Joelâs face and hold your palm against his cheek, still hot with his fever. Heâs so peaceful looking like this, plump lips pouting as he breathes through his mouth. You bring your face close to his and close the gap by pressing a little kiss against his lips.Â
âWhatâre you kissinâ me for, hm?âÂ
âI want to,â you reply, kissing him again.
âGonna get yourself sick,â Joel murmurs groggily, eyes still closed. âWhich means in a couple days, I get to do all this right back to you. S'payback, darlinâ.â
You chuckle. And in just a few short seconds, Joelâs snoring lightly, dead to the world.
If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with thoughts or comment or hop in my inbox! Your kind words go farther than you know in keeping me motivated to write đ
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x reader smut#joel miller/reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#grumpy joel#joel miller tlou#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#Joel miller#pedro pascal characters#tlou#tlou smut#the last of us#Joel tlou#tlou Joel
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Titans: ...what do you have there, Roy?
Roy: oh! This is my daughter, Lian! Say hi Lian!
Titans: She doesn't much look like you...
Roy: oh yeah she takes after her mom more
Titans: and who is she?
Roy: Chessire
Titans: ......the assassin who has tried to kill us so many times?
Roy: Yep!
Titans: ......okay, warn us next time when you get into a relationship, please-
-
Roy: Hey! I know it's been a while, but I thought I should tell you, I'm dating someone!
Titans: oh, we're happy for you! Who is it?
Roy: Red Hood
Titans:
Roy:
Titans:
Roy:
Titans: .....the same Red Hood who cut off people's heads and put them in a bag, attacked the Tower and has tried to kill or maim Batman and everybody else in Gotham multiple times?
Roy: Yep! đĽ°
Titans: .......we are sensing a pattern here and it's a worrying one-
#roy harper the certified villain fucker#he has a very specific taste#dark haired criminals with a traumatic past whose names start with a j#everyone: roy blink twice if you are in danger#roy: awww guys he isn't like that anymore-#everyone: he shot someone in live tv last week!#roy: everyone makes mistakes! and the guy didn't even die!#everyone: THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT ANY BETTER#roy: YES IT DOES#dc#jayroy#roy harper#jason todd#arsenal#red hood
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Waiting Game
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friendâs daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when heâs forced to share a motel room with you.
Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
âYou okay, hon? You soundâŚdistracted,â your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.
At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.
âYes!â you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father canât hear any of the filthy sounds down below, âJust a little stretchedâI mean stressed out, is all.â
Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friendâyour fatherâs best friend.
All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.
From the second youâd set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldnât be an enjoyable oneâthirty-hour road trips rarely ever wereâbut you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to âYou May Be Rightâ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.
Joel frowned.
âDogs off the dash,â he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.
âShotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.â
That wasnât even how the saying went. Oh well.
Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.
âHey! You canât hit a woman!â
âIâm not hitting a woman, Iâm hitting a little gremlin,â Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.
He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joelâs hands were big, but they werenât massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christâs sake.
You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.
âWhâNO! No tickling!â you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.
But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. Heâd never played a clean game in his life and wasnât about to start now.
His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.
âToo much?â he teased, âSay pretty, pretty please.â
In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.
âYou fuckinâ nuts?! Get down!â he yelled.
âBut it just may be a luuuunatic youâre lookinâ for!â you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.
âGetâI swear to God, kidâDOWN!â
Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.
A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.
You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.
âGreat! Good fucking going,â Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.
Dogs no longer on the dashâand a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the roadâyou got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.
You hadnât even made it outside the city limits of Boston.
Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.
Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation heâd received. You couldnât help but feel responsible.
Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, âWhat the hell was your daughter doinâ danglinâ outta this thing?!â Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.
The police officer hadnât bought it.
He probably would have arrested you both if you hadnât been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your âdadâ off with just a ticket.
You had hoped that would temper Joelâs anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You werenât sure why.
Presently, you pulled up to Balmacedaâs Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.
This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat youâd been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the ownerâs name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.
But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.
âNo way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,â you hissed.
âBal-ma-cedaâs,â Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, âI think thatâs a Chilean name.â
He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.
âNeedinâ a room?â
The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.
âYes maâam. Whatever you got,â Joel replied, smiling.
âSmoking or non?â
âSmoking, please.â
Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.
âKing or two Queens?â
âQueens,â you and Joel answered in unison.
At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.
âSorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the oneââ she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, ââand itâs got a King. That okay?â
No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.
âOf course, if you donât want dad hogginâ up all the sheets, thereâs a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.â
The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely wouldâve returned the favor if you hadnât been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.
âAlright.â
Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldnât have to share a bed with your âold manâ that night.
Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.
Heâd turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,
âMr. Miller! You forgot your keys.â
You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joelâs direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.
You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.
You turned back to Joel.
âHere you go, Daddy.â
In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped themâand lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.
âIâm starved,â you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, âFeed me, Daddy.â
In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didnât look up again.
If they werenât, and if she hadnât, it wouldâve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.
A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.
Once youâd grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadnât felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably couldâve cut sheet metal, if needed.
He was fucked. No doubt heâd have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying âdaddyâ; how batshit insane it was that he hadnât gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.
Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didnât do. He could chill out.
He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.
So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably couldâve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didnât care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.
He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.
Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which heâd just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and wouldâve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything elseâjerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.
To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.
Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.
Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.
Fuck, he needed a shower.
Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow himâtrying all the while not to think of you.
You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeĂąo poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, âA man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!â
But the only âgalâ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man âdadââand just called him âdaddyâ for the first time that nightâand he hated himself for it.
Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.
All he could think, see, or breathe was youâimagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.
That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasnât cutting it.
For the first time, Joel couldnât make himself cum.
Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than heâd been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite directionâturning the water as cold as it could get.
Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.
Fuck this.
He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.
And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joelâs face was flooded with heat the second he exited.
You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socksâand a scowl.
âSofaâs broke,â you said.
Joel blinked.
âBroke?â
You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since youâd tried unfolding it in Joelâs absence.
The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.
âYou can sleep there.â
Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.
âYouâre smokinâ crack if you think Iâm doinâ that.â
âBe grateful Iâm not making you sleep in the car, daddy.â
Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.
Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had handsâand were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.
âMiller Lite. Eyes up here.â
Fuck.
âGot aâŚstain on your shirt,â he grumbled in his defense.
âShut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.â
By turns, Joelâs focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didnât arouse him to no endâto help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.
âLike, uhâŚcoin?â he asked. Endearingly stupid.
âHeads, I win,â you said, nodding, âTailsâŚâ
Joel swallowed.
âTails, what?â
âTails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.â
Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.
âI wasnâtââ
âYou were,â you bit back, âI heard you moan my name.â
Joel didnât remember that. Joel didnât remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.
âWhat? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?â you sneered, âThink Iâm just gonna run off and tell my daââ
âDonât,â Joelâs response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, âDonâtâŚdo that, please. Iâll take the floor.â
You raised both brows, mildly amused.
âI said we could flip for it. Câmon,â you said.
âAinât got any coins.â Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.
Joel tensed under your touch.
âWe can try something else.â Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.
It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joelâs body was there on displayâcoated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.
âWhat game?â he asked.
âSomething my roommates showed me,â you began, ââToo Hot.ââ
âToo Hot?â
âYou heard me.â
âWhat, likeâ like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?â
Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dormâs linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldnât name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.
The thought made Joelâs stomach turn.
Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.
âSpin the Bottle? Thatâs rookie shit,â you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.
He still couldnât shake the thought of those boys.
âNo, Joel,â you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, ââToo Hotâ is justâŚedging your opponent.â
Joelâs throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fistâor a shotgunâto his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,
âWe canâtâ I canâtâ canât lay one finger on you, darlinâ, you know that. Your dad would murder me.â
To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.
âBingo,â You stuck one pretty finger in his face like heâd made the worldâs finest discovery, âYou canât touch me.â
âHuh?â
âThatâs the whole fuckinâ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we canât touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.â
Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.
And Joel was a man who couldnât stand to lose, no matter the stakes.
You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didnât look so fearful of your fatherâs wrath or what lurid implications this night might bringâhe just had to win.
âYou suck, you know that?â he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.
âYou wish I would,â you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.
âI bet you will.â
The man was a menace when he had the will to be.
At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that heâd been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties youâd conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.
âAre tongues allowed?â he hummed.
âEverything but hands,â you shrugged.
Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and couldâve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.
His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.
Joel Miller was showing off for youâthe bastard.
âSweet little thing,â he groaned against your mouth, âAinât felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.â
Of course heâd try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.
âWhatâs it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?â
âTwenty since I felt one this good.â
You wouldâve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldnât. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joelâs palms laid flat on either side of your head.
It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man whoâd been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldnât touch him, or take him between your two hands.
Joelâs tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldnât quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legsâyour parts and Joelâs practically throbbing in time with one anotherâto work just as hard.
Even through the towel, he felt huge.
You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.
âEarlierâŚâ Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, âYou said you were hungry.â
âYeah?â
âSorryâstarved,â he corrected himself, and you almost couldâve smacked him for being so smug about it.
âWhatâs your point, Miller?â You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.
All of a sudden, Joelâs movements stopped.
He peered down at you with a curious look.
âI could go for something to eat, too,â he declared.
You blinked. Stared. And just when youâd opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you shouldâve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joelâs torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.
You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.
âJoelâ Joel,â you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.
Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.
âThis isnâtââ you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.
You dropped your head on a pillow and probably couldâve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.
âNo panties, huh?â Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, âYou needed this.â
Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.
âI donât need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And youâre gonna lose this.â
Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.
âHey,â he mumbled, âYou said tongues are fair game.â
Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with yourâŚlower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as heâd done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.
You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the manâs mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.
âJoel.â
Right now you couldnât look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. Youâd sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.
âDarlinâ, youâve got a man soaked.â Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, âYou like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, donât you?â
Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably couldâve torn the linens in two.
Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.
Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.
âGot those sheets all balled up, youâre fixinâ to rip âem.â
âMy tongue make ya feel that good, honey?â
âPoor thing canât even breathe it feels so nice, right?â
So heâd seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if heâd had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.
Surely, he couldâve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.
âTouch me, Joel, please.â
His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.
âNah.â
Curt and cruel as ever. Then:
âNo matter how fuckinâ perfect this pussy is, I ainât losinâ.â
He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.
âMotherfucker.â
âMiller, baby, Miller. Close, though.â
And just when you thought heâd had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,
âJoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.â
It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing heâd tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.
At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.
You carded your hands through Joelâs hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.
And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above himâthis time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since youâd given up the game. He wouldâve smiled if he werenât so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.
A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.
While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didnât look at you.
âIâll be back,â he said, starting toward the door.
âBack?â You sat up, perplexed, âThe hell ya goinâ?â
âOut.â
This motherfucker.
âDid I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some howâs-your-father?â
Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasnât ideal.
âO-kay, sorry,â you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, âI meanâŚdonât you want me to get you off?â
Again, Joelâs expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsedâa look that you couldnât begin to understand, for the life of youâand you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.
Youâd been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didnât ghost until after theyâd gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joelâs exit seemed premature. Strange.
âSo you donât want to fuck?â you asked, deadpan. Youâd never been one for beating around the bush.
âCanât,â Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, âYour dadâŚthatâs justâ thatâs crossing a line.â
âAnd being nose-deep in my cunt isnât?â
You stared him down, incredulous.
So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.
âThatâs different,â Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, âThat was a game. I won. Weâre done.â
You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldnât do either of you a lick of good.
You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didnât mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joelâs Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.
You were still hungry as shit.
Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edibleâsave for, literally, one of Joelâs brownie ediblesâand you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, youâd forgotten it back in Joelâs car.
You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.
By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joelâs bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too bigâand reeked of cigarette smoke.
You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joelâs spit was still drying.
You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.
Bal-ma-cedaâs, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joelâs enunciation of the name ring between your ears.
What you wouldnât give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.
You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closedâalong with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of âPiano Man.â
Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.
In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.
You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.
Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing oâs, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.
You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.
Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Spriteâno, Mountain Dewâand a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadnât seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didnât care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.
âGotta kick it a couple times âfore itâll spit anything out,â one of the boys lounging around you piped up.
Youâd just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like heâd said.
You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one whoâd addressed you,
âLike this?â
âNope. Nuh-uh.â The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.
A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.
The kidâwho actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friendsâwas kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. Youâd just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.
Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.
Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How âbout some Oreos? Iâm good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why donât you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.
Well.
You hadnât smoked in a minute. You mightâve decided to take a bite out of Joelâs brownie back in the room, but you hadnât known how strong it wasâor where the fuck heâd gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds youâd seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.
You felt stupid as soon as youâd sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.
You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.
âAlright, hardass,â he chuckled, taking back the device.
âDaddy know you smoke?â Wyatt cut in with a sneer.
Daddy?
There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.
âYâall been spying on us?â
âAinât shit else to do around here.â That was Blake.
You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.
âHe doesnât care,â you said, managing a shrug.
It wasnât entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.
âDude looks like aâ a fuckinâ DEA agent or something,â Micah said, amused.
âLike that guy from Narcos,â Trent snickered.
Youâd never seen the show and didnât particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embodyâin fact, you didnât want to discuss him at all.
Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.
âWeâre about out.â Micah announced.
Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.
âWannaâŚrestock in our room?â he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.
You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.
âI donât believe you,â he said, âI think you wanna come.â
âDo I?â
You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didnât have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didnât move back when Connor stepped forward.
He wasnât even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.
âFor sure. I think youâd enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.â
The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.
âYou think so?â you hummed.
âI do. I really do.â
âAnd youâre willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?â You made it sound like a challenge.
âWyatt can fight.â
Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldnât help but laugh.
âOkay, but make sure heâs ready. I can only stay for five.â
Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.
âOnly five minutes?â he griped, âWhy not ten? Or twenty?â
âSix.â
âFifteen at least.â
You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasnât quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.
This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleasedâand taken by surpriseâto see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.
âTen,â you returned once youâd swallowed it all.
âTwenty.â
âHoney?â
The last voice didnât belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.
It was Joel, of course.
Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like heâd just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.
Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.
âDaddy. Hi,â you breathed.
Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.
âLetâs goâ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff âLetâs go,â and a free hand reaching for yours.
Instinctively, you recoiled.
âWeâre just talking,â you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldnât have bothered.
âGood. Now youâre leaving,â Joel supplied in a moment.
He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldnât bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.
âIâm not leaving,â you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.
Joel raised both eyebrows.
âNo?â
His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.
âFuck no,â you answered.
A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, âOkaaaaay, time to go!â but then Joel pressed,
âFor someone who wants to be treated like an adultââ
âAdult?â you scoffed, âYou treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?â
No one moved.
Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.
Truly, you never failed to underestimate the manâs brute strength when it came to carrying you off at willâbut there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didnât bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joelâs skull and tug backâlargely ineffectually.
âYouâre an ass,â you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.
âYouâre a brat,â he fired back.
In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.
âYou just abandoned me back here, Miller. Youâ you donât get to pretend like you give a fuck now.â
âI was getting you Burger King, for Christâs sake.â
Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didnât seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.
âEven got you thoseââ Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, ââfuckinâ curly fries you wanted.â
Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?
âJoel, FUCK your curly fries!â you cried, âAre you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?â
âIf thatâs what youââ
âNo. You donât get to tonguefuck your friendâs daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like itâs all good. Sure as hell donât get to dictate who I talk to.â
Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude languageâparticularly as it related to what he had done to you but didnât seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldnât bear another second of that look.
âFuck this. Iâm sleeping in the car,â you grumbled.
You thrashed your arm out of Joelâs hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.
Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldnât outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.
So you took off running.
Joel gripped his side, thinking, âAw, hellâ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.
You were pissed at how far heâd parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front officeâmaybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stayâbut you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the manâs endurance was, evidently, shit.
âHey, sâ stop!â Joel shouted after you.
Fat chance, Miller.
You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.
Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.
Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driverâs side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knobâshoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.
It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldnât keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.
âYou won the fucking game, just take the bed!â you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.
âI mean it, Joel, I-I donât wanna sleep in there wiâ shit.â
You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.
Then he pulled you over his lap.
Not into itânestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joelâs big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.
âWhat do you want from me?â Joel demanded, âWhat?â
You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasnât touching you anywhere.
âI want you to fuck me, Joel,â you replied at length.
Seated between driverâs side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.
âAnd what after that?â he asked, still staring at the roof.
Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,
âWhat happens when I canât even look your dad in the eye knowinâ Iâve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckinâ time Iâm over at your house or youâre over at mine, Iâll be thinkinââ no, dreaminâ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screaminâ my name and takinâ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?â
You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts heâd planted.
âWe could, uhâ fuckâŚthenâŚtoo,â you ventured quietly.
Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.
âThat easy, huh?â he mumbled.
Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,
âI canât even cum with you on my mind,â he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasnât attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, âIâve tried beating off twice todayâin the bathroom and as soon as I left earlierâand I canâtâŚeven get close with you here. You fuck with my head.â
You fuck with my head.
Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensationâand a welt of pleasure.
âYou think I want it to be like this?â Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh heâd just struck, âThink I enjoy havinâ the biggest setâa fuckinâ blue balls known to man whenever Iâm around ya, honey?â
You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seatâs charcoal-colored upholstery.
âI can help with that,â you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.
âNo. Youâd make it worse,â Joel shook his head, âOnce I get a feel inside this sweet cunt Iâll never wanna stop.â
At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.
Joelâs hand hovered about an inch from the source.
âWeâd get bored eventually. Itâd be fine,â you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,
âSoon enough, youâll get over the thrill of screwing me, and Iâll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?â
It was quite possibly the dumbest offer youâd ever made.
Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.
âYeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?â Joel spoke, and you truly couldnât tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, âIs that all you want from me, sugar?â
His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.
âPlease, Joel,â you whimpered.
By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didnât notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your foldsâtaking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.
âDoesnât seem like this pussy wants ânice and politeâ to me,â Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, âNeeds somethinâ else, doesnât she, darlinâ?â
Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasnât something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didnât even begin to cover it.
You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.
âWanna fuck daddyâs fingers? Is that it?â he taunted.
No, no, noâyou wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.
Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingersâsliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motionâand, as much as Joel wouldâve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of âJoelâ underneath him.
âOh, baby,â he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, âThatâs it, baby, fuck daddyâs fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel goodâ thatâs my girl.â
At the last, you probably couldâve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.
âHurts,â you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only âhurtâ was not having even more of him in you, âNeed more of you daddy, please. It hurts.â
Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the manâs whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didnât possess the resolve to refuse.
He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.
âAre you high?â Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.
âYeah.â
âHow high?â
âI can consent, Joel.â Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.
âNot just can consentâdo consent. Do you want this?â Joelâs hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.
âYes, I want this,â you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.
It felt foreign and familiar at onceâthis age-old ritual of fumbling for each otherâs clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didnât act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I canât wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ainât goinâ nowhere.
You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.
âI know, baby, I know,â Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, âStill hurtinâ somethinâ awful, hm?â
The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.
He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.
âDonât laugh,â Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.
âIs thatâŚâ You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joelâs tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.
âCobwebs and all.â
Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condomâa decade old, at least.
âYou buy that before or after the Great Depression?â you teased.
âShut up.â Joel was already working it onto his dick.
âSo Prohibition-coded.â
âI can find something to shove in that mouth, yâknow.â
You were having too much fun at the old manâs expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speakâto try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubberâJoel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.
At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.
Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joelâs shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, âShit.â
No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.
No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.
Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.
âGood?â
âGreat.â
Youâd give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs werenât feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.
âNice andâŚeasy,â he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, âLet ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlinâ?â
âBut Joelââ you whined, already trying to slide back up.
His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.
âJust feel me, sweet pea,â Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, âAinât gonna hurt ya.â
You couldnât be sure if the man was a sadist or the worldâs biggest fan of cockwarmingâor just polite.
The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadnât done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex heâd had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; heâd just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.
In short, he didnât want to fuck it up by busting too soon.
When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.
Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless andâ
âBig,â you whined, stretched to the fullest youâd ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, âSo big, daddy.â
Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.
âJoel, please,â you begged him.
âBaby, Iâmââ
About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.
âNeed you now, need you soââ your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, âSo bad, daddy, please, please, pleaseââ
On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:
Dad đ
Fuck.
FUCK.
Your eyes locked on Joelâs in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.
You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.
Your father wasnât the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldnât stop calling until someone picked up.
âShould weâŚ?â That whisper came from you.
Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.
âJustâŚgive it a sec,â he breathed, âMight be nothing.â
But his tone couldnât mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.
It stopped.
Then started again.
The pair of you clung to one other in the old Fordâs bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.
It stopped once more.
The screen stayed black.
You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.
Then the trill of a ringtone under Joelâs ass started up the second theyâd fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.
âAnswer,â you hissed.
âWhat?!â The whites of Joelâs eyes were bigger now than youâd ever seen them.
âHeâll know somethingâs up! Justââ you slipped your hand under Joelâs rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, âAnswer it. Now. Be cool.â
Joelâs expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped âanswerâ once youâd smacked him on the bicep.
âHe-e-y man.â
You were so fucking dead.
Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your fatherâs voice on the line.
âGreat,â Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someoneâs hand up its ass, âSo good. How are you?â
A beat.
âSheâs good, sheâs good.â
For a moment, Joelâs gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.
âIn the bathroomâŚUh-huhâŚPhone must be deadâŚâ
âNo, sheâs been a trooperâjust fineâŚâ
âSomewhere just shyâa Bedford, I thinkâŚâ
You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then youâd feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.
When you started to slide up Joelâs shaftâthe first time youâd ever really moved, mind youâyou felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.
You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.
At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughedâprofusely.
âSorry, just got a littleââ Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, ââtickle in my throat is all.â
You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joelâs lap.
The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.
Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.
âWorldâs movinâ too. damn. fast,â Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, âSheâs one hell of aâ firecracker, man, Iâll tell ya.â
You heard your dadâs laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,
âThis is not a fucking game.â
He squeezed your throat so tight you probably couldâve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.
In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, âYes, it is,â and you rocked your hips against him even harder.
Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyesâkeeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.
By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joelâs cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didnât know how to stop it.
When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldnât hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joelâs cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.
The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind youâand the shift of Joelâs body weight pinning you down.
His cock hadnât slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.
The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.
âShouldnât be much longer nowâŚâ Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft âUh-huhâ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.
âJoel,â you choked.
Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.
With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleasedâand couldnât be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.
âPlease, daddy, please,â you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joelâs thrusts kept shaking you.
He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, âHold still.â
âItâll be fine,â he said, âMahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, yâknow?â
Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joelâs gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadnât come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.
He couldnât finish off like this.
Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your fatherâno.
Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.
He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,
âShe just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, sheâs right here. Wanna say hello?â
Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your headâfastâand even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldnât believe and wouldnât stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joelâs total dominance and controlâŚkind of hot.
You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, âIâll get you for this, Joelâ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:
âHey, dad!â
Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldnât last long. He would not last long.
Might as well make it fun while it lasts.
âHeâŚdid,â you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumbâstill holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, âNo, nuh-uhâŚMrâŚMr. Miller didnât mind, no sir.â
Shit, the sound of you saying âsirâ was something that made Joelâs whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.
You tried to turn your face awayâtelling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldnât keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didnât care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.
He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.
Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.
âMy sweet girl.â
âDoinâ such a good job stayinâ quiet.â
âTakinâ daddyâs cock so well, arenât ya, darlinâ?â
From that point on, every single one of your fatherâs words over the phone fell on deaf earsâall you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joelâs thrusts.
âYou okay, hon? You soundâŚdistracted,â your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.
At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.
âYes!â you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldnât hear any of the filthy sounds down below, âJust a little stretchedâI mean stressed out, is all.â
The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you werenât so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you wouldâve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.
âJust worried about grades a-a-and all,â you stammered.
Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chestâhis tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.
âYes, sir. I will.â You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, âIâllâŚask him about it, for sure.â
As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.
He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.
So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hairâs breadth away.
He was so near he could hear your dadâs droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadnât cum in such quick successionâŚever, really. All but one of the guys youâd let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you werenât sure if you could make it to four.
You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some âSure, okayâ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.
You covered the mouthpiece.
âI canât, Joel.â
âSure you can, sugar.â
âJoel,â you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadnât ever heardâshort, ragged breaths that broke off in low groansâand it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.
Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:
âAlright, Iâll let ya head to bed, then. Gânight, pumpkin.â
Your dad hadnât even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joelâs back.
âCum for daddy,â Joel coaxed, âCum all over this cock.â
You didnât need much more instigation than that.
You came. He followed.
And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadnât seen a reason for going deaf that he couldâve enjoyed so much.
Then, he didnât sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.
Until it was in you.
Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.
You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.
âDid itâŚâ
âWhat?â
âJoel!â
You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.
âJOEL!â
âIâm sorry! Fuck, Iâ fuck.â
Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.
âIâm ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!â
Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.
âWhatâsâŚovulating?â
You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.
There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didnât understand the menstrual cycle.
âIt means I can get pregnant if we donât get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Letâs GO!â
That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.
âWhere are you going?!â
âToâ to try and get some of this shit out of me first!â
Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion triedâand failedâto slow you down.
âAre you not on birth control?â Joel huffed.
âAre you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decadeâor three?â you snapped.
Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.
âIâmâŚsorry,â he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, âIâm sorry, darlinâ.â
ââSorryâ doesnât get your cum out of me, daddy.â
Your words couldnât have gotten any more caustic or mercilessâor inopportuneâif you tried.
As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joelâs raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expressionâalong with all the faces behind himâhad twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.
Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.
âIâll fuckinââŚduct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!â he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.
Joel turned his head and almost groaned.
Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightenedâand nauseatedâlooks.
Joel normally wouldnât care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, Iâll clear the air.
Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:
âIâm not actually her dad!â
All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:
âI SURE FUCKINâ HOPE YOUâRE NOT!â
#NO ONE SPEAK TO ME FOR AT LEAST A WEEK#THIS IS DISGUSTING#I AM DISGUSTING#DO NOT PERCEIVE ME PLEASEJE HAHAHAHAH#brain rot â¤ď¸#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us fic#joel miller x you#dbf!joel
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Hey guess what it's time for a big ol' Relativity screenshot edit sketchdump!!!!
#gravity falls#relativity falls#screenshot edit#mabel pines#dipper pines#stan pines#ford pines#candy chiu#pacifica northwest#aaaaa I'm so glad to finally get these out there ^^#it was about time I got around to redrawing the scary-oke scene :D#technically I'd already posted that last roadside attraction pic#but I've polished it up since then to match the newer ones so I figured it was worth posting again#idk how the heck I hadn't done the author reveal shot with dipper yet#that's like the most obvious thing in the world#also hey relativity pacifica reveal I guess#I couldn't very well NOT have her be the one running against mabel for mayor now could I
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it was always you Sylus/Reader | 10.6K words | Masterlist | AO3 [part 2 of but if itâs forever, itâs even better] âA baby⌠A baby. Baby. âŚyouâre pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.â A/N: I let Tumblr peer pressured me into writing a part two. â¤ď¸ there is also an epilogue-ish part threeâŚthat I am still polishing up, so uh, give me another three weeks????? MDNI.
You had always known Sylus was a man of his words. He had made it known time and time again that he would never flatter you, never betray you, and most certainly never lie to you, so when the man himself promised that he would get you pregnant, he was going to get you pregnant.
âSylusâah! IâŚI might already be pregâah!â
You bit down into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him and clenching tightly as he continued to drive into you mercilessly, showing no sign of stopping or easing until you were both finished. You cried into his shoulder, gasping and moaning needily, as he spread you more, taking you in deeper and just hitting that sweet spot over and over again.
âOhhhâŚâ Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to even remember what you were about to say.
âCanât be too sure,â Sylus said with a wolfish grin, pleased to see you such a quivering mess beneath him, cheeks all flushed red and eyes dazed with complete lust for him. Even though he could hear you protesting feebly, your body was betraying your true feelings, easily and eagerly taking him in.
âSylusâ!â
Sylus covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling the noises, but the feel of him still relentlessly thrusting in and out of you nevertheless had you helplessly moaning into his hand, your eyes looking up at him with tears brimming in the corners.
âCareful, sweetie,â he chided, smirking, âWouldnât want your neighbors to know what weâre doing, right?â
You moaned into his hand again, the feeling of him pounding into you had robbed you of all other coherent thoughts or even any feeling of modesty, your only focus in this moment was on him, the way he spoke, and the lewd noises of him fucking you. You whimpered and gasped when he removed his hand, but just as quickly your sounds were swallowed by his mouth as he greedily devoured your cries. When he pulled back, a string of saliva connected the two of you. He gazed at you haughtily, completely obsessed by the dazed look you gave him.
He chuckled darkly, his hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing you. âThen again,â he murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously, âI donât particularly care if anyone hears us.â
He kissed you again. âGoing to give me an heir?â he murmured, his tone holding shades of a light tease.
You tried to glare at him, but he laughed it off. âYou are insufferable,â you griped, but almost immediately after you said that, he purposefully thrusted in harder, watching with amusement when your eyes rolled to the back of your head again, your pleased moans countering your earlier annoyed tone.
âWhat was that, sweetie?â he teased.
âSylusâŚâ you whined and gripped his arm pleadingly, âI canât take this anymoreâhowâoh, godâhow much longer?â
His eyes darkened, taking in the sight of you shaking with pleasure beneath him. He had been pushing you to your limits, taking you whenever he could, as often as he could. His own breathing grew shakier, his thoughts wandering, his eyes glazing with desire.
Not until itâs confirmed.
Not untilâŚyouâre round and heavy with my childâŚ
I need to keep breeding youâŚuntil youâre pregnantâŚ
Gonna fill you up, knock you upâŚ
Need to see you swellâŚmake you mineâŚgonna fuck my child into youâ
âFuckââ The thought of you carrying his baby had him coming quicker than either of you expected, and you whined at the feeling of how full he was making you feel. It was too much, and yet, your own body wanted more, wanted to milk him until he was empty, until his seed flooded your womb completely.
âSylusâŚ!â
âFuck, sweetie,â he panted, his large body hovered closely over yours, only held up by his forearms as he stared into your eyes as he emptied himself into you. He kissed you roughly, his frenzied words coming out in between sharp gasps of breath, âYouâre going to look so fucking pretty with my baby in you. Wonât be able to keep my hands off of youâgonna feel you up, fuck you again and againâoh, sweetieâŚâ
You whimpered against his kisses, his dizzying words making the blood rushed straight to your head. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him tightly as you felt his body relaxing against yours. âSylusâŚI feel soâŚfullâŚâ
He groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt him nibbling on your skin, felt all of his body heat against yours as you both slowly settled down from your shared euphoria.
For the next few minutes, neither of you spoke, the only sound heard in your bedroom was the two of you steadying your breathing. Then, you heard Sylus speaking up: âLetâs rest for a bit,â he said, pulling out of you and laying facedown next to you, his arms slung protectively over your stomach. He peered at you with a weary smirk, saying, âWeâll continue again laterâŚâ
âWhat? Again?â You startled at his words, eyes widening in shock as you exclaimed, âWeâve already done it three times tonight!â
âOh, sweetie, you know I have a big appetiteâin more ways than one.â
He hungrily kissed you, your small face held in his large hands, his touch gentle, but his kisses were ravenous. He parted, giving you a moment to catch your breath, but his words did nothing to calm your racing heart: âAnd when it comes to you,â he husked, âmy craving is never satisfied.â
âI can never face my neighbors againâŚâ
âGood. You should come live with me in the N109 Zone anyway.â
âYou can at least pretend to sympathize with me for one minute.â
âI wouldnât know how. Being empathetic is not in my nature, sweetie.â
For the next few weeks, you fell into a strange routine. If you werenât in Sylusâ bed, then he was in yours, and while you would often protest against his enthusiastic advances, eventually you would always succumb to your desires, letting him have his ways with you to his heartâs content.
With so much going on, you didnât notice the telling signs at first.
Fatigue? Work had been hectic lately.
Nausea? There had been a bug going around the city.
Tender breasts? Perhaps you were about to have your period.
ExceptâŚthat was when you realized your period never arriving. You went over the dates, checked the calendar three, four times, as you did the calculations in your head.
You were late.
Your heart sped up, hands already resting on your lower abdomen. Your nerves were in bundles, thoughts haywire.
YouâŚmight beâŚ
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
With Sylusâ baby.
Several pregnancy tests later, you stared at the row of pregnancy tests on your bathroom counter neatly lined up with identical results: Positive. You were pregnant.
You sat down on the edge of your bathtub, hand once again feeling your flat belly. So many thoughts ran through your mind, so many questions weighing you down. You had, more or less, planned this, but now that it was a realityânow that you were pregnant with Sylusâ babyâyou felt nervous.
You couldnât even pinpoint the reason for your anxiety. It was just a combination of so many different things, and while you could just continue to sit and mull and worry on your own, you knew you would rather go see Sylus as soon as possible. Taking a look at the late time, you decided first thing tomorrow morning, you would head over to the N109 Zone and see Sylus.
For now, you hoped a warm shower could help calm your nerves enough for you to sleep through the night.
The following morning, you woke up early to do a few chores around the apartment before heading outside for a quick walk to clear your head. You walked around the block, silently rehearsing in your head the different ways you could make your announcement. The previous night, you had ended up staying up later than intended, browsing videos and social media posts about how other people had made their pregnancy announcements. While many of them were cute, some even ingenious, you felt they didnât seem right for you and Sylus.
As you approached your apartment building again, still lost in thoughts, you heard a caw nearby and instantly frowned, mumbling to yourself, âOh, noâŚâ
After a quick scan of your surroundings, your eyes caught sight of the familiar metallic wings flapping overhead before a certain mechanical crow landed on a nearby tree to perch, his eyes staring straight in your direction. You gritted your teeth in annoyance before you calmed your breathing. You slowly exhaled, forced on a sweet smile, and then called out to the mechanical crow in a sing-song voice, âOh, Mephie~ whoâs a pretty birdie?â
Mephisto gave you an indignant caw, and you feigned hurt, pouting at him. âOh, donât be like that, Mephie,â you cooed, âWeâre besties, remember?â
Mephisto shuffled on his perch, cocking his head at you in confusion.
âAnd as besties,â you continued, taking off your rings to dangle in front of the crow, âWe should be nice to one another, right? Help each other out, even?â
You could have sworn you saw the gleam of interest in Mephistoâs eyes when he noticed the shiny rings you were waving at him. Gotcha, you thought, pleased that your plan was working out.
âThese rings,â you said, holding them out in the palm of your hand, âfor your silence on this matter.â
Mephisto looked up at you confused.
âOh, donât pretend like you donât know what Iâm talking about,â you scolded the crow, folding your hand and gripping the rings tightly. âYou are not telling Sylus about my pregnancy before me!â
You opened your hand again, holding up your bribe as offering. âNow, do we have a deal, Mephisto?â
You grinned when Mephisto eagerly and greedily seized the rings, giving you a nod before flying away with his new treasures.
You quickly headed inside to get changed. While Mephisto did seem to agree to your bribe, you still would rather head over to the N109 Zone as soon as possible to share the news with Sylus before any other mishaps could happen.
It was eight in the morning when you finally arrived at Onychinusâ base in the N109 Zone, an area constantly shrouded in darkness and where the entire concept of time felt utterly meaningless. It was also when Sylus would be asleep, seeing as his schedule and yours were polar opposite. Sylus tended to be in foul mood whenever he was woken up during his sleep, so you really should let him sleep for a bit longer. It almost didnât seem right to wake him up so suddenly and, in according to his schedule, so early.
But then you remembered your recent bouts of morning sickness was all his fault, so you grinned and barged into his home loudly, startling Luke and Kieran who were lounging around in the dining area.
âMiss Hunter! What are you doing here so early in the morning?â Kieran rose from his seat in a chair while Luke remained seated on the table.
âYeah, Boss is still asleep,â Luke added, âW-wait, where are you going?â
You grinned and ignored the twins who both gotten to their feet to trail after you nervously as you headed in the direction of Sylusâ bedroom.
âW-wait, Boss is going to be pissed if heâs woken up at this time!â Luke grabbed your arm to stop you, and you peered up at him with a startling sweet smile. Even with the mask covering his face, you could sense how nervous he was, whether it was because of the prospect of waking Sylus up or your frighteningly cheerful smile, you werenât sure.
âItâs alright, you two,â you cooed, voice so saccharine it made them wonder what you were up to. You continued in a chipper voice, âHeâs going to be thrilled by what I have to tell him.â
âWell,â Kieran started, scratching his head thoughtfully, âMiss Hunter does have him wrapped around her fingerâŚâ
âRight, Boss practically grovels at her feetâwait, donât tell him I said that!â
By this point, you were already outside Sylusâ bedroom with the twins a good several feet away staring at you with mild horror. You quietly shooed them away and watched with a smile as they slunk back to the dining room while muttering among themselves. You couldnât be bothered to care about what they could be whispering about.
You exhaled slowly, and then quietly opened the door, peering into the dark room with caution. Your eyes scanned the large bedroom, checking for any distractions, any oddities that could ruin this planned perfect moment.
âGood, Mephie is not in there,â you mumbled to yourself when you noticed the empty bird perch. You made a mental note to find something extra shiny for the mechanical bird for keeping his end of the deal. You continued your quiet surveillance, and when your eyes finally landed on the bed, you found Sylus asleep under the cover, seeing his chest rising and falling steadily.
You grinned.
As you tiptoed into the bedroom, you couldnât help but noticed a large stray feather of Mephisto was laying on the floor. Your grin widened as you picked it up and made your way over to Sylusâ bed.
He was sound asleep.
He looked so peaceful, almost ethereal, even.
You smiled and leaned closer, using the feather to tickle his face.
Sylus stirred with an annoyed groan.
You quickly suppressed a giggle. Just as you were about to tickle his nose, Sylus opened his eyes and you startled from seeing his red irises so suddenly. Immediately, you let out a shriek when Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into bed with him.
âYou shouldnât have snuck in here like this, sweetie,â he chided, holding you firmly to him.
You struggled in his embrace, but Sylus simply smirked, showing no sign of letting you go any time soon. âWho provoked who first?â he questioned arrogantly, giving your thigh a light smack.
You glared up at him, exclaiming, âIs that any way to treat the woman carrying your baby?â
He paused.
He stared.
And then he spokeâvoice so rough, so dry.
âA baby⌠A baby. Baby. âŚyouâre pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.â
He had unconsciously let you go, barely noticing when you knelt next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. You watched with delight, seeing the normally calm and haughty crime leader having a complete brain malfunction as he attempted to process your news, his eyes darting back and forth from your face and your stomach. Several emotions flashed across Sylusâ eyes ranging from confusion to surprise to shock before finally settling on joyâabsolute, complete wholehearted joy.
You gasped when he pulled you into his firm embrace again, your face pressed to his chest as you felt his hands rubbing you up and down. You whined against him and he looked down at you completely delighted. His lips instantly pressed against yours, silencing your cries.
âWeâre having a baby,â he murmured again, still not quite registering the words, finding them to sound so foreign on his tongue. âMy god, weâre having a babyâŚâ
âHow many times are you going to say that?â You looked at him with a pout and he just grinned at you again.
âUntil you give birth.â
You instantly blushed. âWhat are you sayingââ
He sat back, leaning against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You watched as his large hand lay over your still-flat belly curiously. He shook his head in disbelief, huffing quietly, âA baby. Thereâs a baby in thereâŚâ
âY-YeahâŚâ you mumbled back, still finding the whole situation surreal as well. It was your body, but even you couldnât quite wrap your head around the fact that you were now carrying a new life inside you. Your eyes rested on your stomach. It was still so flat. How could a baby be growing in there? How could you get bigger?
You tilted your head a little, your questioning thoughts starting to drift to a new direction. You wondered when you would start showing. When would you start to feel the little kicks and movements? How big were you going to get? Were you having a boy or a girl? Would Sylus truly love you like thisâ
You teared up. Sylus immediately noticed and looked startled.
You started crying.
âWh-whatâs wrong? Sweetie, why are you crying? Why are you upset?â
You were immediately pulled into his embrace, his hand automatically rubbing the back of your head gently to soothe you as you cried against his chest. You heaved and sobbed against him as he mumbled comforting words, hoping they would calm you down.
âDid I do something?â he questioned softly, feeling helpless when he felt you shaking in his arms, unable to calm down or speak clearly.
You shook your head.
âAre you hurt somewhere?â
âN-noâŚâ you mumbled feebly against his chest.
âThen why are you crying? Sweetie, talk to meâŚâ
âI-I donât knowâŚâ
Sylus peered down at your head and smiled gently. âI think a certain kitten is fibbing.â
âQuit itâŚâ
âI will if she tells me why sheâs crying.â
You grumbled against his chest, protesting quietly when he pulled you back to look at your reddened face and puffy eyes. He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your fresh tears as he shushed you gently. You sniffed.
âIâm going to get fatâŚâ
Sylus looked confused.
And then he laughed.
âAh, so is that why you are crying?â He chuckled, âSweetheart, you are not going to get fat.â
âIâm going to gain weight!â
âFor our baby,â he emphasized. âThe baby is going to be growing inside you.â
âYouâll stop loving meâŚâ
Sylus immediately frowned; his earlier mirth disappeared in that instance. His eyes narrowed in anger as he spoke coldly, âWhat did you say?â
You clammed up, unprepared for his entire demeanor change. You let out a shaky breath when Sylus grabbed your chin, gentle but firm, and held your gaze to him. His thumb brushed over your trembling lips as he spoke, his tone leaving no room for arguments, âI wonât ever stop loving you.â
He didnât raise his voice, but the way he said those words so evenly, so softly and resolutely, they rang loud in the large room. Your heart pounded in your chest, his icy gaze on you rendered you speechless, making you forget about your earlier insecurities. He leaned his face closer to you, his lips just a breath away from yours. âIf anything,â he continued, voice dropping lower, âIâll love you even more.â
You whimpered when he captured your lips, his sweet kiss a binding seal for his ardent words. When he parted, he pressed his forehead to yours, his voice still breathless and unyielding, âDonât ever question my love for you again.â
Your eyes lowered, embarrassed by your earlier outburst. You nodded obediently.
The room was quiet as you and Sylus remained still, him waiting patiently for you to calm yourself. Meanwhile, you felt your cheeks reddening as you replayed the last few minutes in your mind, your embarrassment growing stronger as you realized how silly and ridiculous you were being.
âSylus?â
âHmm?â
âI think Iâm having mood swings alreadyâŚâ
âNo kiddingâŚâ
âWhat did you say?!â
âMy kitten,â he answered, kissing your forehead. He lay back down in bed, pulling you on top of him gently. Your head lifted, your protests dying instantly when you caught sight of his sweet expression, eyes closed and a pleased smile on his face. Your heart instantly melted, any residual doubts lingering in your mind disappeared the moment you heard him sighing blissfully: âWeâre having a babyâŚâ
âAre you sure you donât want to let people know Onychinusâ leader is your baby daddy?â
âIâm sure.â
âSure-sure, or pregnancy-brain-I-might-change-my-mind-again-sure?â
âSure-sure.â
âPositive?â
âPositive!â
âReallyââ
âSylus! Absolutely, positively, undoubtedly 100% sure!â
âMood swing?â
âI will melt your vinyl collection.â
For the longest time, it seemed your belly continued to remain flat as a board, making even you yourself doubtful about whether or not you were truly pregnant. If it werenât for that first ultrasound you got at your prenatal visit, you probably would have dismissed the whole thing as a false positive.
However, the moment you saw that small speck on the ultrasound photo, the moment you caught Sylusâ own surprised expression, you both knew that this was real. Your lives were changing in the most astoundingly beautiful way possible, and no matter how much you both may prep for the arrival of your bundle of joy, you knew nothing would ever be like before.
How wonderful, you thought.
One morning, early in your second trimester, you noticed a slight rounding in your middle after waking up. You cautiously touched it, startled by the feeling of the curve. You could have sworn that just eight hours earlier, you still had your flat stomach, but right now you could definitely see a distinct difference, see the way it was beginning to shape and fill out. You touched it more firmly, still unused to the surrealism of this moment.
âItâsâŚhappeningâŚâ you muttered to yourself, still trying to come to terms with this reality. You startled again when you heard your phone ringing.
It was Sylus, wanting to video chat. You answered immediately.
âGood morning!â you greeted him.
âMorning,â he yawned back, and you realized it was probably his ânightâ time now. âI just wanted to check in on you before you went to work. How are you feeling?â
âGood!â you responded brightly. Possibly a little too brightly, because Sylus immediately raised a questioning brow.
ââGood?ââ he repeated, crossing his arms in confusion. âHowâs your morning sickness?â
âHavenât had anyâyet,â you answered cautiously. Then you smiled brightly and adjusted the phone to show your midriff. You lifted your pajamas top excitedly, exclaiming, âBut look! Iâm starting to show!â
You had expected Sylus to be excited, but his expression and entire demeanor was a far cry from what you had anticipated the notorious Onychinus leader to have. He seemed upset, and you frowned, slowly pulling your top back down. âWhy arenât you excited?â
âHuh?â He didnât seem to realize his expression was upsetting you. He sighed, and apologized immediately. âI am excited,â he clarified, though his tone suggested otherwise, âItâs justâŚâ
âJust what?â you demanded, feeling hurt that his behavior was not like what you had expected.
âI want you here with me.â
Your face softened. âWhat?â
âYouâre starting to show,â he continued, âand it made me realize I donât want to miss another second of your pregnancy. Iâm justâŚupset that I am not by your side right now, seeing your belly grow, feeling it, taking care of youâŚâ
You could feel your cheeks warming because of his words.
âCome live with me?â
âButââ
Sylus sighed, already expecting the usual excuses: your job, your life, everything you loved was in bright, sunny Linkon City. Not the dark and dreary N109 Zone.
âBut my plushiesâŚâ
Sylus blinked, confused.
âSweetie, I have more than enough room here for your belongings.â
âMy jobââ
âDidnât you say your captain was putting you on desk duty?â he interrupted you, smirking, âSurely the Hunters Association allows their employeesâespecially ones in theirâŚdelicate conditionâthe option to work remotely?â
ââŚâ
âNo more excuses?â
âNot at the momentâŚGive me a sec.â
Sylus chuckled. âIâll have Luke and Kieran make arrangements for your move.â
You gawked at him. âI never said yes!â
âNot explicitly,â he agreed and then tilted his head a little, smirking, âSo explain to me why your eyes shined so brightly when I made my offer?â
You slumped in bed and stared at the phoneâat Sylusâ insufferable smirk.
âSweetheartâŚâ
âI want you next to me, too,â you confessed as you looked down at the small bump forming. You tentatively touched it. âI want you with us.â
You looked up at the phone screen just in time to see Sylus had a quick intake of breath, his eyes had widened a fraction, easily missed by those with untrained eyes. Then, he shook his head, almost as if in disbelief by what he had heard. He chuckled to himself. âSweetheart, Iâll see you in an hour.â
You looked confused. âI thought you were going to bed now?â
âHow can I sleep after hearing you say something so adorable?â
You blushed, and tried to keep your voice and expression neutral. âGo to bed,â you said as sternly as possible in spite of Sylusâ amused smirk at your transparent attempt. âIâm getting ready to go to work.â
âCall out,â he demanded.
âNoââ
âFine,â he said, interrupting you to your confusion, âIâll just show up to your workplace at the end of your work day.â
You stared at the phone, mouth agape. You narrowed your eyes at him. âDid you just make a threat?â
He shook his head, feigning hurt. âI am merely concerned for my pregnant girlfriend.â
âNo,â you repeated firmly. âDo. Not. Come. To. My. Work. Place.â
âHow mean,â he cooed mockingly, âYou wonât allow me to see you, you wonât let people know I fathered your babyââ
âAbout thatââ
He looked at you suspiciously. âWhat?â
âPeople kind of knowâŚâ
âI donât understand,â he said, frowning. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. âYou said you didnât want people to know the leader of Onychinus knocked you up.â
âWell, yesâand they still donât know that.â You bit your bottom lip nervously, flinching a little when Sylus questioned you again impatiently. âI couldnât just not give them a nameâTara was so excited about the news and wellââ
âWell, what?â
âI said Skye fathered my baby.â
âWhoâs Skyeâyou did what?â Sylus paused, remembering. And then he laughed. âI see, so âSkyeâ is your baby daddy then.â
The minute Sylus started smiling, you felt an uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of your belly. You knew it wasnât your morning sickness making you feel queasy in that moment. The knot worsened when Sylus started chuckling. You flustered and asked, mildly annoyed, âWhy are you laughing?â
âNo particular reason,â he answered affably, eyes twinkling in amusement. âI can be okay with this. In factââ
Sylusâ smile widened. âI wonât come see you after work today after all.â
You breathed out in relief, but that brief moment of serenity disappeared just as quickly the moment Sylus finished his thought:
ââSkyeâ will pick you up today after work.â
âYou are absolutely insufferable.â
âSee you at five, sweetheart,â Sylus responded, smirking as he ended the call and you were left staring at your bewildered reflection in the darkened phone screen.
âWell, Baby,â You started, staring down at your small bump. You gently placed a hand over it, giving it a tentative rub. âYour daddy can be an ass sometimesâŚâ
âYou actually brought your plushies.â
âYou said you have room for them.â
âI do, butââ
âBut what?â
âI donât remember getting Bunbun, Artsy Birb, or Happy Snowman with youâŚâ
ââŚdonât worry about them.â
Before you knew it, you began calling Onychinusâ base your home. Not a second home, not a temporary home, but home. There were days you would wake up feeling disoriented, still not quite used to the N109 Zoneâs seemingly eternal darkness. There were also many mornings you would find yourself missing and yearning for the sunlight in Linkon City, but those feelings of longing disappeared the moment you felt Sylusâ arm wrapped around your waist, feeling your growing belly and hearing his soft breathing so close to you.
Your eyes fluttered opened one particular dayâor, perhaps, it was night, you werenât quite sure yetâand you felt a familiar warmth behind you. You looked down and saw a large hand covering your growing bump.
You smiled.
Your belly had grown steadily these past few weeks, becoming more and more prominent each day, and while it seemed big to you, it still looked quite small when Sylus touched it. You stared at his large hand nearly covering your entire middle, and you swallowed nervously, realizing you still had several more months of your pregnancy. Plenty of time for your baby to grow bigger.
Much bigger.
You felt nervous.
And scared.
You started to cry.
Sylus immediately woke up when he sensed the sudden shift in your emotions.
âSweetie?â He was immediately alert, sitting up and pulling you closer to him as he examined you all over looking for anything that could be causing you discomfort or distress. âWhatâs wrong? Why are you crying?â
âHow am I supposed to have your big babies?!â
Sylus looked floored.
ââŚexcuse me?â
You continued crying hysterically. âHow am I supposed to push out your big babies?!â
Sylus blinked, still not quite following your train of thought. He knew your hormones had been fluctuating all over the place, but even that did not prepare him for this conversation. He rubbed his forehead, half-wondering if he was still asleep and dreaming this whole ridiculous situation. He sighed when you continued to hysterically ramble:
âWhat was I thinking letting you knock me up with your big babies? Fuck, I wasnât thinkingâI was just a horny little slut! And now I have your big baby inside me! How am I expected to push out a baby that size? Oh, god, what if I canâtâSylus, stop laughing at me!â
Sylus was leaning against the headboard, his whole body shaking in amusement as he watched you spiral. He chuckled when you attempted to punch his shoulder, but his quick reflex easily allowed him to grab your wrist gently before pulling you into his embrace. He hummed happily when he felt your small bump pressed against his stomach.
âSweetheart, you are worrying over nothingâŚâ
âEasy for you to say, youâre not gonna be pushing something out of yourâ"
He kissed your lips, silencing you immediately. âIt will be fine,â he reassured you, âYour body was made for this.â
ââŚfor average sized babyâŚnot what youâve given meâŚâ
He quirked an eyebrow at you, half-amused, half-confused. âI might regret asking this,â he said, giving your cheek a teasing pinch to your annoyance, âbut what makes you so certain the baby is going to be abnormally big?â
âLook at you!â
He shrugged, still not quite following your train of thought.
âSylus!â
âLook,â he started while stroking your head soothingly, his voice gentle, âThe doctor said you are meeting all of the expected weight gain on time. Not under, and not over.â
You continued to sulk.
âThe baby is growing at a perfectly normal rate.â
âBut what ifâ"
He sighed. âI know all of this is scary right nowââ He pressed his lips to your forehead. âAnd IâI canât truly fathom your anxiety. Youâre scared and I wish I can make you feel betterââ
You looked up curiously.
He smiled and rubbed your cheek where he had previously pinched tenderly. âI am so bad at thisâŚâ
You stared at Sylusâ helpless smile and you felt a warmth spreading in your chest. This big intimidating man with such an imposing aura, such unfathomable confidence and charisma was rendered helpless and lost by you. You felt oddly touched by this. Your smaller hands grabbed his, holding it close to your cheek and you smiled at Sylus, surprising him.
âI might have overreacted,â you admitted sheepishly, adding, âIâm feeling better now, SylusâŚâ
He furrowed his brows. âAre you sure?â
You nodded and kissed his palm, your hand caressing his. âIâm still nervous,â you admitted, and Sylusâ expression softened, âButâŚI feel safe with youâŚâ
He smiled and gathered you into his lap, holding you securely to him. He nuzzled his cheek against your head. âI wish I could take away all of your worries,â he murmured, âbut I donât want to lie to you or make promises I canât keepâŚâ
He kissed you sweetly, his voice still soft and gentle, âI can only promise that I will stay by your side for as long as youâll have meâŚâ
His hand lowered, feeling your belly, feeling the life the two of you had made together. âAs long as youâll both have me.â
You smiled at him, eyes brimming with tears.
He wiped the corners of your eyes, tsking softly. âNow,â he continued, his tone lightening, âAny other worries I need to quell tonight?â
You stilled, looking deep in thought. Sylus was only teasing, but he grew concerned when you seemed to ponder his inquiry seriously. He tilted your chin up, your gaze meeting his. He asked, âWhat is it?â
âDoâŚdo you think Iâm stillâŚpretty?â
He blinked, and then he shook his head, amused. âIs that even a question?â
You looked at him sullenly. âDonât patronize meâŚIâm serious.â
âVery pretty,â he murmured, grabbing your face, his lips pressed roughly against yours. You gasped and panted, not expecting the fierce kisses from him. His hand rested behind your head, your hair roughly tangled in between his long, slender fingers as he spoke deeply, a faint growl heard in the back of his throat, âSo fucking pretty.â
You whined against his lips, and Sylus chuckled as he continued to mumble in between his relentless kisses, âMy pretty, knocked up hunter, all round and swollen with my baby, so cute and needyâfuck, I canât get enough of youâŚâ
âSylusâŚâ You panted, feeling your body warming up as you listened to his voice, hearing that sinful rasp full of desire for you. You unconsciously rubbed yourself against his thigh and Sylus hissed, grabbing your hips.
âSweetieâŚwhat are you doing?â
You blushed. âIâI didnât mean toââ
He looked at you knowingly. He gripped your hips tighter, smirking. âYouâre really testing my restraint right nowâŚâ
You looked at him expectantly, biting your bottom lip. He groaned at the sight.
âSweetie, my self-control can only go so farâŚâ
âWhat ifâŚâ you looked at him, eyes glazing with desire. âI sayâŚI want you right now?â
âWhat?â Sylus looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to repeat your words. You felt your cheeks warming up under his intense gaze, but more than that, you also felt a burning inside you as you realize how much you missed and ached for his touch.
âWhat is this lewd expression you are giving me,â he murmured, tipping your chin up. He leaned down and planted kisses along your neck, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed down your body. You shivered against him as he spoke, âAre youâŚgiving me permission, sweetie?â
ââŚYes.â
That was all Sylus needed to hear.
His lips crashed upon yours again, hands fumbling with clothes, making quick work to discard them. Your needy gasps and moans mingled with his own impatient grunts and groans as you both gave in to the pleasure you had both abstained from these past few weeks.
âSyâohhhâŚâ
Sylus had you on your side, your leg held up by him as he slid in slowly, his movements more careful than normal as he gauged your reaction, making sure to prioritize your comfort and wellbeing first. He placed a hand over your belly, cradling it possessively. âWho put this baby in you?â he demanded, the rasp in his voice noticeable, making you throbbed inside.
âY-you, Sylus!â
He kissed your neck. âThatâs right,â he murmured, nipping at your skin and leaving his marks, âItâs my child growing inside you, my child in your womb.â
You shivered against him.
âSylusâŚmoreâŚpleaseâŚâ
âAre you sureââ
âYes!â
He smirked at your eager, impatient response. His face buried into your neck, his voice husky with desire, âIt looks like itâs going to be a long nightâŚâ
âI canât be around Luke and Kieran anymore.â
âAre they bullying you, sweetie? Just bully them right back, you have my permission.â
âThatâs not what I meantânever mind. I justâŚfeel like they know what we didâŚâ
âDid they say something?â
âNo, itâs the way they looked at meâŚâ
ââŚthey wear masks all the time. How can you tell?â
âI just know.â
âSweetieâŚâ
âDonât you dare say I am being hormonal again!â
ââŚâ
Ping!
âSylus, what the hell?! Did you just text an emoji to me?!â
âI did as you said. I did not say you were hormonal.â
âYou texted me the âponderingâ Grumpy Crow emoji!â
âIt could mean anything.â
Ping!
ââŚReally, sweetie? The âannoyedâ Grumpy Crow emoji?â
âIt could mean anything.â
You should have known that Sylus would be prepared for your pregnancy cravings, although, you couldnât help but felt that he had taken things too far.
âUmâŚâ Luke opened the fridge and stared inside for a moment before closing the door. He turned and stared at you from behind his mask. âIs Miss Hunter craving yogurt?â
âWhat?â You paused in your work and looked up from your laptop confused. âWhat are you talking aboutââ
Luke opened the fridge door again, giving you a grand view of the assorted brands and flavors of yogurt that filled the fridge in every conceivable spot possible.
âIââ you stared, mouth agape, âI simply said yesterday, âyogurt sounds tasty right nowâ!â
Kieran strolled over and opened the freezer door and you all stared awkwardly at the containers after containers of frozen yogurt that also lined the shelves.
âAt least he is attentive,â Kieran responded pleasantly while you sat there unsure if you should feel happy or exasperated by Sylusâ gesture.
âLetâs see,â Luke started, pointing at each container as he listed the different types, âYou have the regular yogurt, Greek yogurt, French-style, organic, dairy-free, low-fat, probioticââ
âYou also have plain yogurt,â Kieran cheerfully chimed in, adding, âVanilla, strawberry, peach, raspberry, cherry, mango, coconut, pomegranateâŚâ
âKey lime pie, strawberry-banana, chocolate, cookies ânâ cream, mixed berry, orange crèmeâŚâ
âItâs the salad dressing incident all over againâŚâ you bemoaned, earning absolutely no empathy from the two men in the room, who seemed to be delighted by this odd situation.
âMaybe next time you should be more specific,â Luke said unhelpfully, earning instantly a glare from you. He held up his hands in defense and shrugged. âSay, Miss Hunter, can I have one of theââ
âBe my guest,â you said, sighing when Luke happened to grab the vanilla yogurt that came with crushed chocolate cookies to sprinkle on top.
âWait, does Miss Hunter even have any cravings right now?â Kieran pondered aloud.
Sex, your mind unhelpfully answered for you before you shooed that traitorous thought away. You forced a pleasant smile on your face and shook your head as you rubbed your growing belly. âNot really. This little one doesnât seem to mind what I eat.â
âHuh,â Luke said as he stirred the cookies into his yogurt. âNo wonder Boss is desperate to find anything to buy for youâŚâ
Kieran nodded in agreement with his brother, adding, âHe must really want the whole pregnancy experience with youâŚâ
âIs that so?â You couldnât help but feel touched by Sylusâ gesture now.
âMaybe you should make something up,â Luke suggested.
You rolled your eyes. âBe for real, you two. I am not going to make up some cravings when I donât have any just so Sylus canââ
âHow about pickles and hot chili-lime tortilla chips?â Kieran suggested, looking up from his phone.
âWhat are youâactually, that does sound goodâŚâ
âWhat sounds good?â Sylus walked into the kitchen, interrupting your conversation. You glared at Luke and Kieran into keeping their silence, and the two nodded reluctantly.
âNever mind that,â you said, standing up with Sylusâ help, âAre you ready to go to Linkon City?â
Sylus sighed. âThe doctors in the N109 Zone are just as good. Hell, I can even get you your own personal doctors to come to our homeââ
âSylus, I want to go to Linkon City. Please?â
One look at your pouting lips had Sylus yielding to you immediately. He sighed again and shook his head in defeat, âFine, fine, whatever you like, sweetie.â
As you and Sylus started to leave the kitchen, Luke piped up, âHey, Boss, do we have any yogurt around here?â
You shot Luke the dirtiest look you could muster, making a mental note to get back at him again for his comment.
It was a girl.
It was going to be a girl.
Any worries that Sylus would be disappointed in the gender immediately left your brain the moment you caught sight of his awestruck stare as he gazed at the monitor where you both watched the baby make little movements.
The doctor left the two of you alone to gather your thoughts, to bask in this private joyous moment. The moment the door closed and you two were truly left alone, you both let out the breath you were holding in.
Sylus was the first to speak, his voice more surprised than you had ever heard from the usual confidant man: âWeâre having a girlâŚâ
Your heart skipped a beat. It seemed each day, everything felt more real than the last. You knew you were having a baby, of course, but now that you knew it was going to be a girlâŚyou felt so many conflicting emotions coursing through yourself: joy, worry, fear, doubts.
But when you looked upon Sylus, any insecurities you felt disappeared instantly, because you knew he would never leave you to handle things alone. If anything, you knew he would shoulder all of the hardship if he could just so you would never have to suffer for a second in your life.
âSweetieâŚâ
You gazed into his crimson eyes the moment you felt his hand on your cheek.
âThank youâŚâ
You blinked in confusion, but he never elaborated further. Instead, you felt his lips on yours, his touch more tender, more protective. As you parted, you saw his eyes drifted from the monitor to your belly, his expression was so tender and heartfelt.
You smiled when you realized you were no longer the only girl in Sylusâ heart.
Bright red eyes. Long, straight nose. Full lips.
âAre you not hungry tonight, sweetie?â
âHuh?â
âYouâve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,â Sylus said, frowning, âDo I have something on my face?â
âUh, noâŚâ you responded, blushing in embarrassment.
âThen whatâs wrong? Is the food not to your liking? Do you want to order something else?â
âN-no,â you answered, stopping Sylus from calling the waiter over. Your blush seemed to deepen even more, embarrassed for so many different reasons now. âItâs fine. The food is yummy. Look, Iâm eating!â
You took a bite of the roasted chicken on your plate to prove a point. Sylus didnât look satisfied, so you sighed in defeat and placed your fork and knife down. You breathed in slowly, preparing yourself for your little confession. âAlrightâŚjustâŚdonât laugh at meâŚâ
He huffed in amusement at your preface.
âI just said donât laugh at me!â you looked up, glaring at him.
âAlright, alright,â he conceded good-naturedly, âSo whatâs wrong?â
âI wasâŚimaginingâŚâ
âImagining?â
You blushed.
âImagining what?â Sylus questioned, furrowing his brows as he leaned forward, reaching across the table to grab your chin, turning you to face him. âAnswer me.â
âJustâŚwhatâŚthe baby will look likeâŚwith your featuresâŚâ
He blinked in surprise, letting go of your chin. He leaned back in his seat, chuckling in amusement.
âYouâre laughing at me again!â
âIâm not laughing at you,â he objected. He leaned forward again, his left elbow propped on the table, his chin cradled in his hand as he smiled smugly at you. âYouâre just so cute.â
If it was possible, your blush probably deepened to another shade. You tried to focus on your dinner, but this time you could feel Sylusâ eyes watching you intensely. You could practically feel your heart pumping fast and hard in your chest. You startled when you heard him speaking again:
âBut shouldnât the baby also have your features as well, sweetie?â
âWellâŚprobably,â you answered.
âI think sheâll look much prettier if she looks like her mommy.â
âI thought you said you wouldnât flatter me.â
âItâs not flattery if itâs factual,â he countered with a grin. âAnd her mommy is very pretty.â
You quietly ate your dinner, pretending you didnât hear him, though inside you felt delighted by his praises. Sylus continued to watch you eat, amused by your transparent act. He could practically see you brimming with joy at his compliments.
âShall I order dessert?â he asked, already calling the waiter over. He didnât even look at the menu, saying, âOne of everything.â
You gaped. âWe couldnât possibly finish all of that!â
He shrugged. âWeâll take them to go then.â
âThatâthatâs not what Iââ Your eyes widened as Sylus ignored your protests and gave the revised order to the waiter. âSylus, thatâs too much!â
He chuckled again. âSweetie, you deserve to be pampered,â he said, âLet me lavish and spoil you during this special time.â
He reached across the table again, wiping your lips with his thumb. You heart skipped a beat as you watched him licked his thumb clean. âBesides,â he started, gazing at you fondly, âYouâre already giving me the greatest gift ever.â
âI still think you ordered too much.â
âComplain all you want you, sweetie, but when itâs 2 AM and you are craving a lemon-raspberry cheesecake, you will thank me.â
âBut I havenât had that many cravings during this pregnancy! Iâm actually a little disappointedâŚâ
âShall we play the guessing game then?â
âNo alcohol.â
âI obviously wasnât going to suggestâstop glaring at me.â
Another wet dream.
Some women were exhausted. (You were exhausted.)
Some have weird food cravings. (You had a different craving.)
Some may even be emotional. (You were very, very emotional.)
But you.
WellâŚyouâŚwere having wet dreams and an out-of-control sex drive. (Fuck.)
You woke up one morning groaning in annoyance. You remembered bits and pieces of the lewd dream, enough that you were squirming now that you were awake, feeling frustrated in parts because one: you couldnât finish the dream, and two: you really needed to finishâŚ
You suddenly noticed Sylus was asleep in bed next to you. You briefly wondered why you didnât notice him getting into bed earlier, but the thought quickly dashed away when your sex-crazed brain suddenly noted appreciatively that he had fallen asleep in his bathrobe again, the belt barely tied around his waist, exposing his toned torso to you.
A book was lying next to him, and his reading glasses were tilted on his face. You surmised he must have fallen asleep while reading earlier. A mischievous thought found its way into your head, and for a brief second, you contemplated, questioning your own motives.
Well, you were only going to help him take his glasses off. You didnât want them to break. You were just being thoughtful. Truly.
You hauled yourself up, groaning at the increasing difficulty with each day that your belly grew. You steadied your hand over your bump, giving it a gentle rub before you crawled over and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.
Sylus was still asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly.
You held back a moan when you realized he hadnât put on any undergarment after his shower. What a sneaky bastard.
You leaned forward, touching the frame of his glasses. You hissed when you felt your round stomach pressed forward, touching his toned abdomen. The crisp scent of his body wash wafted in the air so close to your nose, making you just want to lean forward and inhale deeply.
You shook your head, chiding yourself silently before you quickly took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand.
As you were about to climb off of him, you felt yourself brushing against himâagainst his bulge. You swallowed slowly, feeling a warmth spread in your core. You could practically feel yourself throbbing and aching inside.
Maybe he wouldnât notice.
Maybe you could be quick andâŚ
You were just going toâŚ
Sylusâ eyes shot opened when he felt a new weight on top of him. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of you on top of him, shamelessly grinding against him. His brain quickly caught up with the situation and he laughed, as he reached out to grab your hips, pulling you into his embrace.
âWell, good morning to you, too, sweetie,â he laughed, kissing your lips, âIs this how youâre going to wake me up from now on? Because I like it.â
You blushed in embarrassment. âIâI can explain.â
He raised an eyebrow.
Grinning, Sylus reached under your nightgown, cupping your sex and rubbing his hand against the fabric of your soaked panties, making you gasped and moaned loudly, the feel of him touching you was a welcoming friction. âReally?â he questioned, his voice dropping an octave lower, âYou can explain why youâre so wet right now?â
âSy-SylusâŚâ you practically whimpered his name, looking at him pleadingly. You were already suffering from your out-of-control hormones, and right now, that delightfully sinful and sultry voice of his was only making things worse.
âWhatâs wrong, sweetie?â he cooed, âNeed to get yourself off on my cock?â
You really did whimper this time.
He looked amused as he undid the belt of his robe. You followed Sylusâ every movement, watching with rapt attention as he wrapped his hand around his magnificent cock and began stroking himself leisurely. His own eyes remained locked on you, relishing in the way you were reacting to him. You swallowed, feeling your insides pulsing, needing to be filled by him.
âRide me,â he ordered. You shuddered at his tone, but you were also more than ready and willing to listen to him. He smirked as he helped you removed your drenched panties, amused by the needy state you were already in this early in the morning. He helped steadied you on top of him, helped you aligned yourself to him, and then in one fluid motionâ
âFuckâŚâ Sylus threw his head back, groaning, as you eagerly sank down on his fat cock. He looked back at you, grinning at the sight of your aroused face taking him in so deeply. âIf Iâd known being pregnant would make you this insatiable, I would have knocked you up sooner, sweetie.â
You mewled happily when his large hand touched your round belly, rubbing it in slow circles.
âLook at you,â he crooned, leaning up and leading your lips to his. He nibbled on your bottom lip, his voice a soft murmur, âSo sweet for me.â
You gasped as he reached out and pulled down the strap of your nightgown, exposing your breast. They had grown considerably throughout your pregnancy, the areolas had darkened, and your breasts felt very heavy with milk for the baby still in your womb. As you rode him, your breasts bounced heavily, the sight turning him on more and more.
You moaned as his hands groped you, his voice heavy with arousal, âGonna keep you like thisâŚâ
You let out a shuddering gasp when he thrusted up, your hands instantly steadying yourself on his chest. You looked into his eyes as he rubbed your belly again.
âSylusââ
You closed your eyes, gasping and panting as his mouth took in your sensitive nipple. A lick, a tease, and you could already feel it firming up as he sucked eagerly while his hands roamed your body, every touch of his making your skin burned hot. As the morning wore on, you couldnât help but think how wonderful it would be when your milk would come in and he would have a taste as well.
You couldnât wait.
âFor the last time, Sylus, we are not buying everything in the catalog!â
âWhy not? I can afford it.â
âI know you can afford it, but I donât need all of these items. The baby doesnât need all of these items!â
âSweetie, I am only making sure you and my daughter will want for nothing.â
âThoughtful, if not ill-conceived.â
âHow heartless. You do not appreciate my generosity enough.â
âI will once you explain the crow-themed nursery you had Luke and Kieran planning.â
âA compromise since you will not allow me to make a mechanical crow for her.â
âIncorrigible.â
Sylus had always loved spoiling you, be it with material items, praises, or his affections. It was his sole belief that you deserved to be lavished, to be gifted and spoiled with the luxuries of the world, and within the bedroom, he made sure you were worshiped in other ways. Your every whim was his to answer, and he did so willingly, devotedly, and ardently.
The bedroom lights dimmed, and a record played soft, sensual music in the room.
You found yourself standing bent over his bed, large belly hanging low as he approached you from behind. Large calloused hands held your widened hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh and already drawing out your fluttering gasps as you trembled with anticipation, already shamelessly imagining that deliciously large, thick cock of his penetrating you so deeply, in ways no other man could ever compare.
He lifted your right leg, holding it higher at hip level to give him an even better access to your soaked pussy.
âYouâre so beautifulâŚand all mineâŚâ
You moaned into the mattress as you felt him easing in.
âDoing alright?â he questioned, showing a moment of hesitancy as he tried to gauge your reaction.
âYesâŚyesâŚSylusâŚmoreâŚâ
He smirked and continued, filling you just the way you wanted.
âI just want to keep you like thisâŚâ he murmured, sounding more like he was speaking to himself than you.
Heavy with my childâŚ
Want to keep you bred.
Knock you up over and over and over againâŚ
âOh, Sylus, youâre being so rough!â
He startled, snapping out of his thoughts. He slowed his movements before bending over and kissing your shoulder apologetically. âIâm sorry, do you want me to stop?â
You shook your head slowly.
âAre you sure?â
âI want youâŚplease?â
He smiled and kissed your cheek. âHow can I resist my dear hunterâs sweet request?â
As he began moving again, your fingers curled around the bedsheets, little moans escaped. Unwittingly, you mumbled into the sheets, your words reaching his ears, âMoreâŚwantâŚto give you moreâŚâ
âWhat?â
You whined when he stilled. âSylusâŚpleaseâŚâ
âWhat were youâŚsaying?â
Your hand reached around your large belly, rubbing it provocatively. Sylus felt like he had stopped breathing. The very suggestion, the mere idea that you were already hinting that you would let him impregnate you again made him more aroused than he already was.
Sylus breathed in sharply, fingers pressing deeper into your hips.
He smirked.
He drove into you, fast and unforgiving, panting hard with a pleased grin on his face as you buried your face into the mattress, fingers gripping the bedsheets tighter as you cried out his name again and again.
âAre you going to let me fuck you like this again?â he asked.
âYes, yes, yes!â
âGonna let me put another baby in you after this one?â
âYes, Sylus, yes!â
He groaned and buried himself deep inside you, his body loomed over yours, his sinfully deep voice close to your ear now. You shivered as he whispered into your ear, âDo you like being pregnant with my baby, sweetie?â
You moaned when his hand felt your large belly, rubbing it all over possessively.
âAnswer me,â he demanded.
âYesâŚâ
âYes, what?â
âYesâŚI love being pregnant with your baby!â you cried out, voice growing more desperate to his delight as you found yourself unable to stop the words from leaving your lips. âI want to have more of your babies, Sylus! Want to give you as many babies as you wantââ
You screamed into the mattress as he picked up his pace again, taking you harder than before. Your tantalizing words seemed to only have spurred him on, his crimson eyes gleaming brightly while a smug smile graced his handsome face. You gasped and moaned, whimpering to him, âOhhhâŚSylusâŚ! Gonna cumâŚahâŚgonna cum, SylusâŚ!â
He groaned as he felt your walls tightened around him. He panted, his hands rubbing your hips soothingly as he husked, his own breathing uneven as he felt he was close to finishing as well, âC-cum for me, sweetie. Cum on my cockââ
He stilled, his head thrown back with a deep groan as he felt you coming undone, your euphoric cries music to his ears. With a few more hard, deep thrusts, his own climax came, and you felt him filling you with ropes after ropes of his cum. You felt so full.
He leaned over you, his body heavy on yours. You felt his warm kisses along your neck, his divinely rich voice so close to your ear. âYou love being pregnant with my babyâŚyou want more of my babiesâŚâ
âUh huhâŚâ you answered back breathlessly with a smile.
âFuckâs sake,â he groaned at the sight of your suggestive, mischievous smile. âIâm gonna lose my fucking mind.â
He smirked and grabbed your chin, guiding your sweet lips to his. âWhen did I become so lucky?â
He pulled out with a groan, chuckling at the lewd sight of his cum dripping obscenely out of you and down your legs. He gathered you into his arms, smiling as you snuggled closer to him, tired but also immensely satisfied. You felt him laying you down in bed, settling in next to you and holding you close to his own body. Sylus watched over you as you rested next to him, his eyes fixated fondly on your sleepy face while his hand rubbed your belly soothingly to calm your restless baby in your womb.
âSheâs moving so much tonight,â he murmured, bemused.
âCan you blame her?â you answered, eyes still closed, but your hand rested over Sylusâ, guiding him to where you felt the most movements.
He chuckled. âFair point,â he conceded. He leaned down and kissed your belly, whispering sweet words to your daughter, his voice holding so much love and devotion for the baby you two made together.
You opened your eyes, smiling at the sight of him caressing your belly adoringly. You had never thought there would be a moment like this in your life, never dared to dream of a love as sweet and pure as this. You wondered if you had traded all of the good luck in your lifetime for this man and the life you were both embarking on together.
âDoâŚdo you want more?â you asked suddenly, voice tentative, almost fearful.
Sylus seemed to stop breathing for a moment.
âMoreâŚchildren,â you clarified.
He exhaled, and laughed. He settled more comfortably in bed, pulling you into his embrace, his hand already stroking your hair gently, already easing your worries. You relaxed under his tender ministration, eyes closing as you listened to his voice:
âHearing the pitter-patters of little feet in this large houseâŚwhy, that might be my new dreamâŚâ
You hummed in agreement before a yawn escaped. Sylus smiled.
âShall I tell you a story, sweetie?â
âMmhmmâŚâ
âThere once was a lonely old crow,â he began, gentle eyes gazing down at your sleepy face, âHe lived only for himselfâŚuntil he found a kittenâŚâ
âA kitten?â you mumbled drowsily; eyes still closed. You yawned again and snuggled closer to Sylus. You sighed contentedly when you felt his hand stroking your head. His presence was so warm, so protective and loving, you felt like you could sleep and dream forever in his arms.
âA kitten,â Sylus repeated, continuing, âA kittenâŚhe wanted to protectâŚand loveâŚâ
Sylus paused, hearing soft snoring. He looked down and saw that you had already fallen asleep. He stroked your hair, wrapping strands around his finger.
âTheyâll live happily ever after together,â he promised.
Sylus had never cared for sunlight.
He had traversed in darkness and made himself ruler of a city shrouded in never-ending darkness. He lived within the shadows and only knew of this isolating worldâof this existence.
Until he met you.
He had crossed over to your world, stepped into the light, into the warmth of the sun. Even though he still found the light unpleasant, he was willing to bear it all just to be near you. To see the joy on your face as you walked under the sun again after so long was a sight to see.
You always did make the sun more bearable, he thought, feeling your hand slipping out of his. You walked on unaware while Sylus fell behind, admiring the beauty in front of him.
Bathed in daylight, Sylus saw a blinding vision, a bright future with you in his life, by his side steadfastly. He knew he had stolen a piece of Heaven, already prepared and willing to pay the heavy price to keep what he had coveted.
âWill you be my wife?â he asked suddenly and you paused in your steps, realizing he had fallen behind. You turned and looked at him, cheeks tinged a pretty shade of pink, unsure if you had misheard him or not. âWhat did you say?â
He chuckled and shook his head in amusement at your coy look. He walked toward you slowly, but his long legs easily closed the distance between the two of you in no time. âMake an honest man out of me,â he said. Gentle crimson eyes peered down at you full of resolve and love. His hand caressed your cheek lightly, his voice soft and sultry, âBe my bride?â
âButâŚIâm pregnant,â you reminded him feebly, not noticing his confused look. You lowered your eyes to the ground, but truly all you could see was your large, round belly. It had been a while since you last saw your feet. You were all too aware of Sylusâ eyes on you, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you replayed his earnest words in your mind. You continued meekly, âIâll look fat in a wedding gownâŚâ
He laughed. Sylus leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. âYouâre not fat,â he said sternly, âYouâd look gorgeous even with this bellyâwhy, I might enjoy it even more.â
You huffed doubtfully. You continued to avert gazes with him, but you could still feel the warmth of where his lips were on your cheek. Your heart continued to race and you could feel the baby in your belly growing more active, possibly sensing your tumultuous emotions. You unconsciously cradled your belly, rubbing soothing circles.
Sylus noticed and he smirked, tilting his head in amusement. He tipped your chin up, his lips mere centimeters from yours. âI want everyone to know that you and this baby are mine.â
âSylusâŚâ
âSweetheart, it was always you,â he said, âThere is no one else.â
He pecked your lips, so light and fleeting, you yearned for more. Your eyes rested on Sylus, his entire being engraved into your memories, into your heart, into your soul. When you looked into his beautiful eyes, you could see forever. There was only one answer you could give him.
âHow about it?â he murmured, his deep voice was like honey to your ears, so sweet and sensual in the way he uttered just those three simple words. âMarry me?â
You smiled. âGuess this is foreverâŚâ
In mere seconds, you were enveloped in his warmth, his eyes seeing only you, only the life that was about to unfold.
âWhen did my luck change?â Sylus wondered aloud, stealing kisses after kisses from you.
When indeedâŚ
The pieces of your lives fell into place, this picture of paradise becoming clearer with each passing moment. It was yours to keep, yours to hold.
How divine.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace fanfiction#lnds fanfics#lnds smut#sylus smut#love and deepspace x reader#sylus x reader#x â fanfics#lnds series â birds of a feather#how did this turned out to be 10k+#my longest one-shot before this is only 8.2k words#what does this say about me??????#(down bad for sylus thatâs what)#anyhoo#i hope this was worth the wait đĽş#stay tuned for the last part <3#(it wonât be as long as this one lol)
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Teacher's Pet
Joel Miller x virgin f!reader
Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.Â
Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).
w/c: 7.7k idk what happened
a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm
Part Two
my masterlist
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,â you mutter, shaking your head. "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like aâŚa sex lesson?âÂ
"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.Â
"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the timeâÂ
"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.
Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."
You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.
"Okay,â he starts from the living room. âMaybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."
You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."
You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.
"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."
"You think so?" You ask hopefully.
"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."
Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."
"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."
"That simple, huh?" You scoff.
"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."
"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!
"Nothing? You ainât ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."
You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.
"I've watched porn before" you retort.Â
"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.
"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.
Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.
"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"
You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.
"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.â Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"
"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."
"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.
"Alright. Then do."
"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.
Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.Â
"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."
You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.Â
It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.Â
You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.
 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.
It's an absolutely insane idea.Â
You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.
"What?" he says, looking back at you.
"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.
"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."
You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.
"I wasn't gonna say anything."
"Well now you're lying."
"I'm not."
"You're doing it again!"
"Doing what?!"
"That face!"
"I'm not making a face!"
"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"
You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know youâre not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what youâre about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.Â
"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."
Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.
"A what?"
"Forget it. forget I said anything,â you mutter, shaking your head.Â
"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like aâŚa sex lesson?âÂ
His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.
"Iâm sorry, that wasâŚIt was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.
"Is that what you want?"
You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.
"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."
He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.
"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.Â
But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.
"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.
"It's okay, come here."
His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.
"You really wanna do this?â he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. âI mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."
You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.
"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."
There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.
"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.
"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. Iâm barely tipsy."
"Not drunk?â
"Nope."
"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."
"Uh huh."
"And you still want to?"
You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.
"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."
He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, andâ
His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.Â
"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"
You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. Thereâs no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That youâre going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and youâre positive youâre no longer able to breathe.Â
"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.Â
You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.
He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.
It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.Â
He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.Â
"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.
"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"
"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.Â
"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."
His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesnât take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.
You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.
"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.
"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.Â
"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.
"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.âÂ
You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.
"Youâre a good kisser,â you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"
"When itâs true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."
You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"
Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.Â
"What do you want to do?"
You stare at him for a second, blinking.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.
"Well, how far do you want to take this?"
You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You canât deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to âprepareâ for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?
Yeah, probably.
"All the way" you answer. âI want to go all the wayâÂ
He doesnât pounce on you like you expected, doesnât press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.
"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isnât what you actually want. I donât want you thinking that."
You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.
"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"
Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doinâ this if I didn't want to. Just makinâ sure this is what you really want."
"I want it.âÂ
He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.Â
âAlright then.â He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. â Weâre not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.âÂ
Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.
"Iâm not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."
"Fine, fine,â he relents. âLet me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"
Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.
"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.Â
"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.
"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.
"Iâll stop, Iâll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.
You huff, but let him pull you closer until youâre pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.
"Iâll be good. I promise."
"Liar"
"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."
You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then heâs pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.
"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.
His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.
He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.
He doesnât ask if you're sure again and youâre grateful because youâre not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.Â
âCan I take this off, baby?â
Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. Youâre left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.
Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.
But then heâs pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.
"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.
"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.
His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.Â
"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."
The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.Â
He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.
"Can I?" he asks.
"Please."
He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.
His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.
He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. Youâre already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.
"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.Â
"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"
He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.
"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.
You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.
"Get on the bed, baby."
You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.
He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.
"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."
"You're having entirely too much fun with this,â you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec. Â
"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"
Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.
"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.
He grins, his brow quirking up.
"Look at you, being all bossy"
"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.
His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.Â
âI sure do.âÂ
He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.Â
"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.
His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.
You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.Â
Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.
"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.
He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.
"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.
"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.Â
"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.
"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"
You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.Â
"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once againÂ
Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.
"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."
"But-"
"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "Youâre not apologizinâ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.
You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.
"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.
"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."
You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.
And he's barely touched you.
"How's that feel?"
You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.
He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.
"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.
"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"
You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.Â
"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.
"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.Â
"I know, honey, I know."
You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.
"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.
"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.
White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.Â
You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-
"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.
You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.
He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.
"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.
"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.Â
"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.
He grunts and shakes his head.
"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."
You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.Â
He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.
"Alright?"
You swallow and nod, licking your lips.
"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"
"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.Â
"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"
"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"
"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.
He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.
"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"
He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.
"See what I mean?"
"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"
He hums and nips at your thigh.
"Damn right I do."
You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.
His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.
He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.
The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.
"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"
His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.
He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.
Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.
You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you andâ is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?
You're fucked.
A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.
"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"
He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.Â
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.
He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.Â
But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.
You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.
How to please him.Â
You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.Â
You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.
"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.
"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."
Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.
"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"
"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he canât detect the underlying want for him and him only.
He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.
"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"
You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.
"Oh my god, that was terrible."
"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.
"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.
You gulp and lick your lips.
"Or..."
He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.
"Yeah, that's what I thought"
You glare at him and then sigh.
"You're a bully"
"Am I?â He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. â 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."
You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.Â
"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.
"And proud of it.â
"Pride is a sin."
"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"
You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.
"You're ridiculous"
"You love it"
And that's the thing, isn't it?
Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.
And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.
You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.
"Joel?" you say his name softly.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Teach me."
Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!
#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller#pedro pascal characters
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JOEL MILLER FIC RECS
âž 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! â˝
an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3
Series
â Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...
â I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.
â The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at armâs length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.
â By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...
â I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?
â If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.
â Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfatherâs passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But JoelâŚJoel keeps his distance.
â That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.
One-Shots
â No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joelâs closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.
â White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.
â Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesnât even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joelâs decided he doesnât like it.
â Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.
â Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.
â Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.
â Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.
â Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.
â Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?
â Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.
â Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.
â Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.
â Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.
#joel miller#joel tlou#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel fanfic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller au#joel miller fic#joel miller oneshot#joel miller smut#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x oc#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#soft joel miller#joel miller blurb#joel miller masterlist#joel miller series#hbo joel miller#joel miller imagine#game joel miller#joel miller one shot#joel miller self insert
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Just finished posting all of the chapters of my first Star Wars fic on AO3! I wrote it a while ago, and it definitely needs a lot of editing, but Iâm still very proud of it nonetheless.
Itâs also part of a larger series, which Iâm calling The Solo-Skywalker Saga for now, until I come up with a better name.
The first three chapters of the second part, The Rise of the Final Order, are also up, and I plan on posting the rest of them this week, as I already have the rest of it written as well!
#writing#writers#fanfiction#fanfic#star wars fanfiction#ao3#last shot#last shot - a star wars story#the solo-skywalker saga
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purple tie. purple bow.
#noticed it the first time he was on screen that his tie was kinda purple n then he showed up again and it was more purple and thEN springtra#god#fnaf#fnaf movie#five nights at freddy's#william afton#steve raglan#matthew lillard#fnafedit#filmedit#kyle.gif#fnaf spoilers#fnaf movie spoilers#five night at freddyâs spoilers#the way u can see the colouring fuck ups in the last one bc the shot was that dark#fml#springtrap#userriel#1k#5k
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Clean
Joel makes a mess on you, then keeps you in the bathtub until the water goes cold. (3k)
Tags - dark!joel, one shot, smut, fingering, come shot, manspreading, masturbation, overstimulation, forced orgasms, dubconnnnnn, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nickname 'kiddo'. Say the affirmation with me: The ickier it is, the harder I nut.#bushnation, MORE DEPECHE MODE REFERENCES. TRY AND STOP ME. Like car sex, I write bathtub sex uniquely in that Iâm not bound by bullshit ass physics or logic so yes, both people fit in the tub and everything is fine. Reader is bathed by Joel, her hair is washed and finger-combed by him too, but length and texture are not described. This was a decroded fic for me to make i can't lie Fic help - @endlessthxxghts, thank you for always seeing my disgusting visions and giving me your eyeballs A/N - thank you for all the birthday wishes, dear friends in my phone! I celebrated with you all last year when I was writing Mall Rats and itâs special that a lot of you are still with me today, but some I have new friends too â¤ď¸ I love you. Having readers like you in my corner all this time has been beyond special and so rewarding and I hope you know I mean it when I say that I love you.
Youâre washing the dishes tonight, your least favorite of the chores Joel makes you do. You prefer doing laundry or plucking the weeds with him, because he lets you collect flowers and put them in vases. He even taught you how to press them between heavy books, and how to frame them nicely.Â
Joel calls your name from upstairs. You quickly wash and dry your hands, then scurry up the steps. His door is closed almost all of the way, just a small sliver of light peeks from his room into the dark hallway. âJoel?â
âIn here, sweetheart. Need ya for somethinâ.âÂ
You push open the door the rest of the way, and Joelâs naked and sitting upright on the edge of his bed, cock in hand with his bare thighs spread wide. Heâs grunting as he squeezes the base, the tip all flushed and swollen. âCâmere. Switch me spots.âÂ
You donât yet obey his order. Youâve seen Joelâs cock before, seen him masturbate before, too. Despite that, it still makes you feel nervous to see him and be with him like this. It gives you that icky feeling in your gut and makes you breathe funny.Â
âCâmon. You know it ainât gonna bite ya, kiddo.â Joel stands up and pats the spot on the bed. âSit,â he says, his tone sharper than before. âNeed somethinâ pretty to come on.â
 Joel doesnât like repeating himself. You wonât make him ask a third time.Â
You sit on the bed, the covers warmed and slightly damp by Joelâs body heat donât comfort you. He stands in front of you, rock-hard cock bouncing in his loose grip. âWhy donât you give me a hand this time,â he says, reaching for your wrist. He pulls it up to waist level, then wraps your palm around his member, closing your fingers tightly. âOhhh, fuck,â Joel groans from deep in his chest. Loudly, he breathes in and out through his nose as he twists your hand up and down his shaft. âJusâ like this. Thatâs a good girl.âÂ
This is, however, the first time youâve ever felt his cock. All of your firsts with Joel have never gone the way you thought they would. The first time he saw you naked, touched you, or that you saw him - it was all surreal and rather abrupt. Joel tells you things like this are always a little new and funny at first.Â
His cock feels heavy in your palm. You think about the things you like about it - the warmth, all of his veins and ridges, how smooth and soft the head is. But itâs a little sticky, too, which is unexpected to you.Â
âAlright, alright. Sâenough,â Joel says, pulling your hand away. âLift up your shirt.â
You lift your shirt, pushing it up your torso until itâs bunched just beneath your breasts. âNuh-uh. Like this,â Joel murmurs, pushing the garment up above your chest, exposing yourself entirely to him. He rubs his thumb in circles over both of your nipples so that they pebble under his touch, then gropes and squeezes your flesh. âLie back,â Joel says, pushing you down on the bed. âAttagirl.â
You watch as Joel pumps his cock above you, the end of his fist slapping against his softened belly repeatedly. He breathes heavily, and his dark eyes are wild like an animal as his gaze is fixed on your naked form. Joel breathes quicker as he approaches his release, grunting a slew of swears he doesnât allow you to say. âFuck, goddamn. Oh, goddamn,â he hisses as ropes of his hot come spurt onto your body. He covers you like a canvas; his favorite painting, and for his eyes only.Â
Joel collects a bit of his spend up with his first two fingers. âGive it a taste,â he says. âWant you to try it.â
You open your mouth, and Joel pushes his calloused digits inside, painting your tongue with his come. âSuck,â he says, and you do. You furrow your brows at the salty, bitter flavor, how it tastes dissimilar from its scent. âDonât like it?â
You shake your head. âI donât think so.â
Joel chuckles, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. âSâokay. Yâdonât have to.â Joel yawns then, patting your cheek gently with his weathered hand. âCâmon, kiddo. Bath time. Daddy made a mess aâ ya, didnât he?â
Joel walks you to the bathroom with him, holding your hand the whole time. He puts the little rubber stopper in the drain of the bathtub, then turns the water on. âWarmer, pl-â
âDonât need a reminder, sweetheart. Know you like it hot. Daddy wonât let you freeze.â
âAnd bubbles.â
âI know, baby girl. I wonât forget your bubbles.â
As the bathtub fills, Joel opens the oak cabinet under the sink and pulls out the old bottle of bubble bath, the one heâs been refilling just for you. He pours a capful under the water, bubbles immediately building. It smells mostly of nothing, but a bit of that original bubblegum scent remains. Your image reflected in the mirror begins to blur as steam fills the bathroom, and when the tub is full, Joel shuts off the water. He helps you undress and then gets in the tub first, carefully lowering himself until heâs sat with his back against the wall. âJesus, sâhot. Gonna turn us both into soup,â Joel laughs. You smile shyly.Â
 He spreads his legs, then outstretches his arm to you. âCâmon. Hop in.â You take Joelâs hand, squeezing it while wobbling a little on your one foot as you step into the bath. âI gotcha, kiddo,â he says.Â
The water is warm on your feet, nearly burning you but you enjoy the tingle. Joel helps you down, lowering you until youâre submerged in the water, your back against his warm chest, his thick package pressing against your ass.Â
Joel fills an old, plastic measuring cup with the soapy bath water and brings a hand to your chin, tilting your head back so he can rinse your hair. The hot water feels soothing on your scalp, and Joel repeats the action until your hair is soaked all the way through and dripping down your back.Â
You giggle at the noise the bottle of shampoo makes when Joel squirts a bit into his hand. He lathers it between his palms, then scrubs your scalp. âEyes closed, kiddo. Donât wanna hurt ya,â he whispers.Â
Your eyes flutter shut as Joel works the soap into your hair, scrubbing your scalp all over. He alternates between scratching you gently with his dull nails, to massaging you with the tips of his fingers. He uses his thumbs to rub the base of your skull in circles, the other four fingers of each hand drawing lines up and down and all over. Once Joelâs built a thick lather, he uses the same plastic cup to rinse out the shampoo. Â
He conditions your hair next, working the cream into the strands. He uses his fingers to loosely detangle, âOw, daddy,â you complain as he tugs on a knot.Â
âI know, I know. Mâsorry, baby girl.â Joel presses a kiss to your forehead. âWas anâ accident. Mâtryinâ to be gentle.â He rinses out the conditioner next, âGrab me that bar of soap, will ya?â he asks.Â
âMhm.â You lean forward and reach for the orangish, rectangular bar of soap in front of you on the shower niche, then grab it and hold it over your shoulder.Â
Joel takes the soap, âThank ya kindly, darlinâ.â He dips it in the soapy bathwater before lathering it between his palms that are already beginning to prune. Gently, he pushes you forward to scrub your back and your neck, then pulls you right back into himself. âGimme an arm,â he says, a slight rasp in his voice. You raise your arm for him and he washes you with the lather, âAnâ the other,â Joel adds, now washing your other arm, massaging you with his strong hands. âHere-â Joel taps your shoulder with the soap. âYour daddyâs gettinâ old,â he grumbles. âCanât bend like he used to. Wash your legs fâme, sweetheart.âÂ
âOkay,â you murmur, taking the soap back from him. You lather the soap just like Joel did, then wash your legs one at a time, bending them at the knees. When done, Joel reaches over you to take the soap back. He pulls you back against his soft middle and puts his soapy hands on your torso, sliding them up and down your skin, washing off his now dried spend. He groans quietly as he washes your breasts, kneading the flesh there and circling your nipples with his slippery fingers. You feel his cock twitch against you.Â
Joel washes down, down your stomach. âSpread âem,â he says, and you part your legs wider. Your stomach jumps when his hands rub past your pubic hair and he washes your folds, that soft, private place between your thighs. You whimper when his thumb catches your clit.Â
âThat feel nice, kiddo?â
Your breath hitches in your throat as you search for an answer.Â
âI-â
âYou can tell your old man. I know it does,â Joel coos, rubbing his thumb left and right over your clit. You lean your head back and turn your head to the side, burying yourself in his bicep as you whine. âYou donât take much at all, do ya, sweetheart?â
Joelâs made you come before. Itâs one of the first things he did when he brought you home, actually. But you amaze him every time, how quickly and easily you fall apart on his fingertips. He thinks about tasting you for the first time, how sweet youâll be on his tongue. Or his cock, down your throat or between your thighs and splitting you in two. God, youâve so much to learn, and Joel gets to walk you through it all. His favorite innocence.Â
Joel adjusts you both so that youâre sitting more upright and he can reach around you with both hands. âRest on me,â he says, pressing the side of your head against his so that his scruff is tickling you, but not scratching you. Itâs too long for that.
 Joel peers over your shoulder to watch what heâs doing, and to watch how you react. Your soft tummy rising and falling with big breaths, thighs twitching. Joel circles your clit with his middle and ring fingers, patiently working you up. âHowâs that feelinâ?â he asks, âCan you tell daddy?â
âMm,â you hum, âYeahâŚâ
Joel chuckles, dragging the tip of his aquiline nose along the side of your face. âUse your words, baby girl,â he instructs. âGood girls use their words, hm?â
âFeels g- feels good,â you whimper, voice breaking as Joel works you. He rubs your clit faster now, and youâre rocking against his palm, splashing the water a little.Â
Joel brings his other hand to your core and lines two fingers up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he massages your clit. You wince in pain, squeezing his bicep as he pushes them in further.Â
Joel hums in sympathy. Being in the bath means youâre not a slick, slippery mess like usual. âKnow it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get used to it.â Joelâs fingers are all the way inside you now, and he pulls them back out. âYouâll get used to it,â he drawls, now pumping those fingers in and out of you, slowly. âYouâre beinâ so brave for me, baby girl.âÂ
The ache of Joelâs fingers stretching you out dissipates eventually, and he changes the action - instead of drawing his fingers in and out of your cunt, he curls them repeatedly inside of you - Joel knows you love when he does this to you.Â
You moan freely, relishing in the pleasure. Joelâs right, heâs always right. Youâre used to him now, and he feels so good. Swirling his fingers around your clit, stroking that sweet spot inside you with the other hand - it takes no more than five minutes until your breathing turns ragged and you feel that hot, sticky feeling in your gut, the one that feels both bad and good all at the same time.Â
âAsk for it,â Joel mumbles, reminding you of your manners as he senses how close you are. âBe polite.â
âPlease,â you say, âCan I come?â
ââCourse you can, sweetheart. Of course.â
The orgasm washes over you quickly. You come with a symphony of breathy moans, saccharine in nature. Joelâs never heard anything like it, and heâs grateful he has enough of his hearing left to be able to.Â
With his weathered, wrinkled fingers, Joel fucks you through your climax until the last of it courses through you. You come down, but Joel doesnât stop touching you.Â
Maybe he thinks itâs not yet over. Joel keeps doing those same tight circles on your clit, and you start to squirm. âJoelââ you wrap your hands around his forearm and attempt to move him, but his strength is far too great for your efforts to mean anything at all. Â
âSit still. Youâre givinâ me another one.âÂ
Joel keeps your back pinned tightly against his hairy chest, your legs spread wide with his hand in between them, patiently swirling his middle and ring fingers around your swollen and over-sensitive clit. Your hips are starting to ache and the sensation of Joel pleasuring you has turned uncomfortable, downright painful.Â
âI wanna be done, Joel. I canât do another one,â you whimper, voice shaking as tears well up in your eyes. Thereâs nowhere to run, and you know you just have to take it. âI canât.â
âYes, you can,â he whispers soothingly, his ministrations on your pussy unfaltering. Joelâs holding you back. Youâre not supposed to tell him no. âKnow you can.â
His words serve more to frustrate you than encourage you. âI. Canât,â you huff as you try to pull away from him and close your legs shut in the now lukewarm and soapy water, but Joel keeps you in position in his vice grip.Â
âKnock it off,â he growls. Joel has to hide his amusement. Youâre quick to anger, just like he is. Just like your daddy. âJusâ relax.â
Youâre close, and whether you realize it or not, Joel does. Your twitching legs, the way youâre breathing. Release is right around the corner if youâd just calm yourself down. Poor thing. You always did struggle with regulating yourself.
âGet - I told you-â you interrupt yourself to groan, âYouâre not listening to me, daddy. I said I c-canât fuckingââ you donât finish the sentence and instead seethe in frustration, jerking and splashing bath water onto the floor. âF-â
Joel slaps your cheek, hard. âEasy,â he scolds, âI didnât raise you to speak to me like that.â Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. âAnâ I donât have to listen to you. You listen to me,â he adds. âAdjust the fuckinâ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.â
Your voice cracks as you whimper Joelâs name, a sob then escaping your chest. Your cheek stings and tingles, like you never stopped feeling the impact of Joelâs hand meeting your skin.Â
âDonât start cryinâ, just breathe. Breathe. Go slow,â Joel instructs, pleased when you inhale steadily. On your exhale, Joel whispers, âYou need me to talk you through it?â
You nod against him, sniffling. âThen Iâll talk you through it. Focus on my voice, focus right here, kiddo,â he tells you. âRelax, just a minute. Calm yourself.â
You rest against Joel, and he pauses his ministrations on your clit. âI canât do it again, Joel,â you plead. âI donât think I can.âÂ
âI know what you think. It donât matter, âcause it ainât up to you, sweetheart. Weâre tryinâ it again.âÂ
Joel restarts, circling and massaging your clit with that same pressure from before. And just like before, itâs uncomfortable. It hurts, and you donât like it.Â
âLean into it, sweetheart. Let it ride.âÂ
Frustrated, you shake your head. âDaddyââ
âYou need to let it happen. Got all night, sweetheart. Waterâs gettinâ cold.âÂ
âJoel.â Your voice cracks.
Joel ignores you. He pumps his fingers, focusing specifically on your g-spot as he knows how sensitive you are there. Your protests begin to quiet, replaced by soft noises of pleasure. âThere it is,â Joel purrs. âMake those pretty noises for me. Youâre doinâ good.âÂ
Pleasure begins to build, just like Joel said it would. It almost makes you mad, mad that heâs right. Always right. Mad that Joel knows your body like the back of his hand, better than you do. The stubborn part of you wants to stave off release, but a bigger part of you doesnât wanna fight Joel on this. You donât like to fight with him anyway. You always lose. So, you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure Joel knew youâd feel.
âYou gonna come one more time? You gonna come on daddyâs fingers?â
âYeah,â you nod. Your eyes squeeze shut as the feeling builds, almost exponentially. Your gasps and moans halt and there it is - Joelâs pulled another orgasm from your body. More powerful than before, the feeling washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each movement of Joelâs fingers. âYeah, attagirl,â he breathes. âManners, sweetheart. What do you say?âÂ
âThank you,â you whisper, out of breath.Â
Joel rinses you with the water as you come down from your second orgasm of the evening. He taps you twice on the hip, âUp,â he says, and you stand up on shaky legs.Â
Joel reaches for an old, floral-patterned towel and dries himself off first, then wraps it around his waist, thick belly bulging over the edge of the fabric. He grabs another towel for you next, drying your legs and arms one at a time before wrapping the towel snugly around your shoulders.Â
âYou finish those dishes?â Joel asks, pulling the drain stopper out of the tub.Â
âNot all of them,â you answer. âIâm sorry.âÂ
âNah, donât you worry âbout it. Iâll do the rest, hm?âÂ
You wear a small smile, âOkay.â
âAnâ I was thinkinâ that I could make us popcorn, like you like. Put on a movie. One of those girly ones I picked out for you, huh?â
Your smile grows. âYeah,â you answer.Â
Joel smiles too. âGood. Letâs get you dressed, then.âÂ
thank you for reading! please consider engaging by reblogging, hopping in my inbox, and/or commenting. your words go so far in keeping me motivated to write âĄ
More dark!joel
#joel miller x reader#Joel miller smut#joel miller x reader smut#joel miller/reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#joel miller tlou#Joel miller#joel the last of us#dark!joel miller x reader#dark!joel miller#dark!joel#pedro pascal characters
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hey melody whatcha got there
#taffy art#slarpg#melody amaranth#frog ball#drawpile#furry art#i just wanted to draw her because it's been ages since i last did#but i didn't have any actual pose ideas past the initial bust shot so this just kinda happened
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Make It Stick
Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel never thought heâd need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (Iâm sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldnât go with a gun.
Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk
Word count: 4.7k
He shouldâve gotten snipped when he had the chance.
Shouldâve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctorâs offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:
âDonât cum, donât cum, donât cum, donât cum, DONâTââ
Words like those normally worked. With women that werenât you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.
But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didnât. Wouldnât. Couldnât seem to think straight when it came to this fixation heâd developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:
âJ-J-Joelâoh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckâIâm gonna CUM.â
And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.
Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldnât even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.
If he had it his way, he wouldâve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasnât giving him too much trouble.
But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.
With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above youââSweet girl, youâre so fuckinâ good to meââand watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.
Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.
No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.
Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.
Where the FUCK was his cum?
In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simplyâŚcum without noticing. Shit like that just didnât happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when heâd wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.
He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.
âNo, Joel!â you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, âAnother round and Iâm gonna combust, you old perv!â
But Joel wasnât looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldnât see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, âWhat the hell, Joel?!â hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.
You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.
âLast time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,â you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.
Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.
âHold still,â he grunted.
âHow come?â
ââCause I said.â
How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.
âWanna sleep,â you groaned, about to roll your eyes.
But you couldnât deny you liked being doted on by him.
Joelâs touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.
He appeared to be deep in thoughtâa rare sight for anyone whoâd seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time heâd blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.
He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:
âJo-elââ
âCan yaâŚpush, baby?â His eyes flitted up quickly.
âPush?â
âYeah, justâŚâ With a look you couldnât quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, âLike this. Like youâre squeezinâ somethinâ out.â
You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.
Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely wouldâve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.
And twisted even further when you âpushedâ like you did.
At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretchedâno novel concept to you, whoâd spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasnât until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.
You let out a low, tender, âMmphâ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joelâs face turned grave.
He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.
You were youngâtoo young to know better. Too sweet and naĂŻve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore heâd be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear heâd relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was oldâtoo old to be doing this shit.
Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.
âJoel, whatâsââ
âWhenâs the last time youâ youâ uhâŚbled?â
Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasnât talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.
âLike two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?â
Well, fuck.
Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sinkâs edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.
âWhy?â you tried again. Softer this time.
An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.
âYou see this?â Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, âYâknow what it means, right?â
You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.
âYeah. ButâŚyouâre old,â came your answer at length.
Youâre old.
Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasnât quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.
âWhatâs me beinâ old got to do with anything?â A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, ââm sorry, baby, justâ gotta get this out of you.â
You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?
For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.
âMaria says old folks are, uhâŚinfertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,â you said, breaths labored.
Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.
âMenopause,â he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, âis a woman thing.â
What the hell were they teaching in Jacksonâs sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasnât the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasnât exactly the communityâs highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.
He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.
âS-So, youââ You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, âYouâre sayinââŚmen can make babiesâŚwhenever?â
You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicamentâof being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.
Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.
Deeper, Joel, keepâŚpushing inâŚdee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if heâd just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you shouldâve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbingâ
ââwhole lotta problems for us if youâre, uhâŚovulating,â Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadnât heard the first part of that sentence and didnât care to.
âOvulating,â you repeated slowly. Indifferent.
Joel carried on without a hitch.
âKids just ainât fit for this world. I know you know that.â
You nodded along, not hearing a word.
âAnd if youâreâ if yâever did consider, maybeâŚâ
Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joelâs fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.
ââŚyâoughta start a family with someone your own ageââ
That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:
âMy own age?â
Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that werenât just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler sourceâyour foot.
You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.
âWhat?â
âWhat?â
Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joelâs shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.
âWhenâs that evâŚever stopped us from doing it before, hm?â you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, âThought you liked sayinâ youâd make me a mama.â
Joelâs face flooded pink at the recollectionâas a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: âThatâs different.â
And it was, to some extent. Joel wasnât blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, youâd loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissedââCan we please go home now, baby?ââthat Joel was certain heâd been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.
This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.
âBaby, hey, hey, noââ Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.
No, no, no. You werenât thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.
Smiling a little, too.
âWhat are youâ no, honey, donâtâ you canât,â Joelâs words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth heâd just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.
âWhat are you doinâ? This ainâtâŚno, baby, it ainâtâŚsafe.â
Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.
âWhatâs wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.â
You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.
âI just told you,â he huffed, âYouâre too youngââ
âIâm plenty old, Joel,â you returned, eyes snapping open, âYouâve shown me that more times than I can count.â
Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.
âBabyâŚâ
To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He wouldâve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.
Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legsâeyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.
You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as theyâd go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.
It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.
Feels nice.
Tastes alright, too.
Youâd licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.
âMaybe I donât want babies with someone my own age.â
Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldnât get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didnât stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.
And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old manâs happy trailâyour favorite onesâyou smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, youâd repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didnât have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.
âDonât you think Iâd look pretty?â You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joelâs cockâof course heâd grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.
Joel cursed under his breath.
ââCourse I doâŚâ he said, voice hoarse, âYâalways lookââ
âI meanâŚwith your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.â
As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again
âYou donâtââ Joel choked out, nearly incensed, ââdonât know what the hell youâre sayinâ, baby. What that means.â
In truth, there wasnât a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by himâa man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.
He communicated as much by moving to pull out.
You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.
âI know more than enough, old manââ Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, ââwho do you think taught me all this?â
Of course, it had been Joel.
Always, always himâthe only one, in fact.
Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:
âMake her full. Make her yours. Tell any man whoâd even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.â
He couldnât.
Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.
But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.
âYou like thisâŚdonât you, Joel?â Your voice was tiny.
âI do.â
In fact, he loved it.
âThen why canât we?â Why shouldnât we?
Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your faceâand out of Joel, all common sense from his brainâleaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.
Idiocy.
âJust once?â Joel croaked.
Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.
âJust one?â you murmured back.
He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joelâs hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.
âOnce,â he repeated, not thinking too deeply.
âOne,â you said, with a world of more purpose.
Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.
âOne?â Joel panted. Confused.
He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joelâs shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.
âOne more of you, I mean.â You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell youâd actually meant it.
Joelâs cheeks flushed again, but he didnât stop, either.
âBabyâŚâ he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an âoâ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheekâmaybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: âOneâa me takes and Iâm givinâ ya fifteen more, yâhear?â
The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldnât have believed it even if youâd said the words yourself. Joelâs thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.
In disbelief, âWanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?â
Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.
âMake your old man a daddy, is that it?â
Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.
To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joelâs brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as sheâd let him in and told him no, thatâs gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, thatâs likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.
âThat is what youâve wanted this whole time, right?â
Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.
Thatâs all heâs ever wanted.
Let the neighbors talk.
Let them say what they wanted to sayâit was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naĂŻve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:
âThat what you want, too, darlinâ?â More serious now.
The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasnât just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.
Something to stick.
âPlease say it, baby.â
Someone to call yours.
âI want it,â you said, sounding desperate.
A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joelâs and begged him for more.
âWant what?â He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.
âWant you,â you breathed, âInside me, Joel, please.â
As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadnât even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.
âGood girl,â he murmured, âRight here?â
âRiâ right there. Right there.â
Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joelâs release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
âHope our baby has your eyes,â you murmured to him.
It shouldnât have had such a strong effectâbut of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.
Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. Heâd clear his whole schedule for it
âThat right?â And now he couldnât stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, âWhat about their nose?â
He kissed the tip of yours.
âHope they get this.â
He kissed either one of your cheeks.
âThese too.â
You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.
The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joelâs spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldnât stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, âAre you sure?â and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldnât be more eager to finish now if he tried.
Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.
There it is.
#IN CONCLUSIONâŚâŚâŚ.WE MAKIN BABIES#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel tlou#the last of us fic
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