#pedro pascal character

[adoreispunk]

Out of Reach (joel miller au)

…"Yeah?" His thumbs stroked just under the waistband of my underwear, barely touching skin. "Could've fooled me. You look so fuckin' pretty layin' out for me like this, babygirl."”

content warning: 18+ MDNI, fingering, car sex, dirty talk, grinding, praise, age gap, smut.

wc: 3.8K

an: my first time writing smut;) hope yall enjoy.

seven

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of sweat, sawdust, and coffee. Joel kept a steady pace, moving between tasks like he'd been doing this his whole life, and I did my best to keep up. Not that he ever made me feel like I was falling behind, I just didn't want to be a bother. We hit the second job site just after 1 and scarfed down sandwiches in the cleanest spot we could find.

Now, with the sun dipping low and the hum of the drive settling in my chest, I'm somehow more awake than I've been all day. My body's exhausted, but my brain won't shut off, not with Joel sitting right next to me, his knuckles relaxed on the wheel, his profile lit by the soft burn of sunset.

He pulls into the lot but doesn't move. Just sits there. Like me.

"You hungry?" he asks, voice low.

I hesitate. "Joel..."

"I'm grabbing dinner," he says, cutting me off gently. "Thought maybe you'd come. On me."

My heart's already kicking up, and I try to rein it in. I laugh, light and a little breathless. "You already gave me a laptop and the position. I think you've done more than enough."

He leans in slightly—not a lot, but enough that I feel the shift.

"It's not about that," he says, voice rougher now. "I just... wanna sit with you a while. That okay?"

It's that last part that does me in, the way he says it. Like he's not demanding anything, but he needs it anyway. Why wouldn't I give in.

I nod, softly. "Yeah. Okay."

He relaxes just enough to let out a breath, then starts the truck again.

The restaurant is quiet, low-lit, tucked between a string of other restaurants. Nothing special from the outside. But inside it's cozy. It's the kind of place where people sit for hours without checking the time.

We slide into a booth near the back. I can feel his hand on the small of my back when he leads me in.

He orders a whiskey, neat. I order a glass of wine. I tell myself I'm just trying too hard to look older. More composed. Not like the girl whose knees go soft when he looks at her too long.

At first, we talk about work. The site, the guys, and more about what I want to start working on the next day. But then it shifts more personal. Naturally, slowly, the way it always seems to with him.

We talk about music. About old records and what he used to listen to on long drives. I tell him how my dad always tried to get me into Springsteen, but I was a stubborn little brat who thought synth-pop was deeper.

And somewhere between my second glass of wine and the server clearing our plates, I asked about Sarah.

His eyes softened immediately.

"She's in school up in New York now." he said, leaning back in his chair like the words pulled some weight from his chest. "Couldn't've picked somewhere farther away if she tried."

I smiled. "That sounds like her."

"Yeah," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "She hasn't changed a bit. Still got that stubborn streak. But I miss her. House's too quiet without her around."

A quiet beat passed between us.

"I'd love to see her again sometime," I say gently. "Maybe when summer rolls around."

Joel looked at me then, really looked, and nodded like the thought actually meant something to him. "She'd like that. She always liked you."

I glanced down at my wine glass, swirling what was left, then looked up and caught him watching me with that quiet intensity he always wore when he wasn't saying much.

I smiled, a little unsteady. "You know, I used to be kind of scared of you."

His eyebrows lifted. "Me?"

I nodded, resting my chin on my hand. "You were always so serious. So... intense. Barely said a word." I scarf down what's left of my wine.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, guess that sounds like me".

That made me laugh—really laugh. "I liked it, though. The quiet thing. You made people pay attention without trying."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in a way that made me feel like I was under a spotlight. "You drunk, Olivia?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Tipsy." I admitted, then shrugged. "Not enough to say anything I don't mean."

His gaze held steady on me. "So what is it you're trying to say?"

I hesitated—long enough for him to notice.

"I've seen that look a thousand times today." he said softly. "You've got something sitting on the edge of your tongue and you're deciding whether to let it out"

I looked away, heart thudding, heat rising to my cheeks. "It's not a big deal."

Joel tilted his head. "Seems like it is."

There was a silence I didn't try to fill. He waited.

"I think about you more than I should," I finally said, barely louder than a whisper.

Joel went still.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," I added quickly, the words falling out now that they'd started. "Since the first time I saw you again, these last few weeks i've been at school. Now working with you, seeing how much you care, how hard you push yourself. I notice everything now. The way you talk, the way you move, the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

Joel's throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn't interrupt. Just watched me like I was saying something he already knew but wanted to hear for himself.

"I know it's complicated," I said. "And probably not smart. But I didn't want to keep pretending like I didn't feel anything."

Another beat. Joel leaned back slowly in his seat, like he needed the space to breathe.

"Jesus," he muttered. "You have any idea what it's been like tryin' to keep things professional with you around?"

My eyes flicked up to his, wide and surprised.

"Thought I was doin' a decent job," he added, voice low, rough. "But you walk into a room and it's like I forget what the hell I'm supposed to be doing."

I didn't know how to respond, where to go from here. Maybe it was the wine or me never thinking he would actually feel a similar way.

Then, without a word, he reached into his wallet and dropped enough cash onto the table to cover the check and a generous tip.

"Let's go," he said, standing up.

My stomach dropped. Something in his tone—firm, curt—made me freeze for a second. I stared at the bills on the table, then up at him, trying to read his expression. But it was blank.

Suddenly, I felt so stupid. How could I mess up something so bad that was literally handed to me.

"I—Mr. Miller, I'm sorry," I said quickly, rising from my seat, my voice quieter. "I said too much.

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he said it again—lower this time, slower.

"Let's go, Olivia."

And I followed, my cheeks burning.

The ride back was quiet. The kind of silence that felt thick, like it was holding its breath. I stared out the window out of embarrassment. Maybe I'd crossed a line. Maybe I'd ruined everything. The last thing I wanted was to make things weird. Worse yet, to make him uncomfortable.

The office parking lot came into view. My car was the one left, sitting under a flickering overhead light. Joel slowed the truck as we pulled in, the hum of the engine filling the space between us.

And then I felt it. His hand, steady and warm, resting gently on my thigh.

I turned to look at him, startled, heart hammering.

He was still watching the lot, one hand on the wheel, the other anchored to me like it belonged there. His thumb moved once, a slow, almost-thoughtless stroke that sent a wave of heat through my core.

"I've wanted to say something." he said quietly, his voice almost a rasp. "But I didn't know if I had the right."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. The weight of his hand, the sound of his voice—it left no room for words.

He looked over at me then, and this time, I could read the look on his face. Want with restraint

"You sure about this?" he asked, eyes searching mine. "Because if we start this... I'm not gonna be able to pretend nothing's changed."

Joel's hand stayed on my thigh, his grip a little tighter now, like he needed the anchor.

"And your dad..." he started, then stopped, jaw clenching. "Jesus. If he ever found out..."

He exhaled hard through his nose, like it physically hurt to say it. "He'd never forgive me, Olivia. I don't think I'd be able to look him in the eye again. Hell, I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing here."

His thumb brushed against the inside of my leg, slow, grounding. "But I know I want you. I've tried not to. I've tried real hard."

That confession unraveled something tight in my chest. I'd imagined and hoped for it—but hearing it in his voice, heavy with conflict and need, it undid me.

"I need to know," he said, softer now, glancing at me again, "You're not drunk, right? I need you clearheaded when you say it. I'm not touching you if you're not sure."

I shook my head, quick almost desperate. "I'm not. I swear." I licked my lips, voice barely above a whisper. "I' want you so bad Joel."

I barely had time to register the shift in the air before Joel leaned in, hand moving from my thigh to the side of my neck, rough fingers cradling me like he didn't trust himself not to break me.

Then his mouth was on mine.

It was desperate—hungry and unfiltered and so much more than I was prepared for. His lips crashed into mine with a groan that vibrated in my chest, and I gasped against him, which only gave him more. He took it, pulled me closer across the truck's console like he couldn't stand the inches between us. His other hand slid around my waist, dragging me into him like he needed me there.

A small, involuntary moan escaped me at the feel of his body pressed against mine, and that was all it took.

"Fuck," he muttered against my lips, the sound raw, like he'd been holding it in for far too long. "Where did you come from?"

His tongue pushed past my lips, and I let him in, tasting the whiskey on his breath, the heat of him unraveling every bit of restraint I'd clung to. The kiss deepened fast. His mouth hot and searching, like he was trying to memorize me from the inside out. I kissed him back with everything I had, fingers curling into his hair.

Joel didn't stop kissing me—not even for a second.

His hands gripped my waist, firm and sure, and before I could blink, he was moving. In one smooth motion, he shoved his seat back with a grunt, the lever creaking under the force, and then he was pulling me into his lap, dragging me over the console like I weighed nothing.

I gasped into his mouth, but he didn't let up, didn't let go. He just wrapped his arms around me tighter and sealed his mouth over mine like he was starving for it.

The moment I settled on top of him, thighs straddling either side of his lap, I felt the hard press of him beneath me. He was so big.

It made my head spin.

My body moved without thinking, my hips rolling forward, slow and uncertain at first. The friction hit just right and I couldn't stop the low, breathy moan that left me. Joel groaned, deep in his throat, and his grip on my hips tightened, holding me right there as I rocked against him again, more confident now. More desperate.

"Jesus, Olivia" he breathed against my lips, voice rough and frayed. "You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

But he didn't stop me. Didn't try to pull away.

If anything, he pulled me closer.

My hands slid into his hair, tugging a little, and that only made him kiss me harder. Deeper. Tongue and teeth and heat, like he didn't care where we were or who could see like he needed this just as bad as I did.

His fingers brushed between my legs, dragging over the heat of me through my pants, and I couldn't help the soft gasp that fell from my mouth, my body jerking forward slightly into his touch.

"You sittin' here grindin' on me, thinkin' im not gonna do something 'bout it?"

He pressed his forehead to mine, lips brushing and teasing. I whimpered at the loss, but then he tilted his head and looked at me—really looked at me.

"I need to hear you say it, sweetheart," he added, voice softer now, almost reverent. "I wanna hear you cum. Been thinkin' about it all night."

"Yes," I breathed, not even hesitating. My hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer like I needed him to fuse into me. "Please, Joel. Im so wet already" Something flickered in his eyes—something primal.

I move my mouth to his jaw and neck, desperate to not let any of this moment go to waste. It feels like I was on autopilot.

"Fuck," he groaned, the word guttural, like it clawed out of him. His hand tightened on my thigh. "You don't know what you're doin' to me, baby."

"Then show me." I whispered, lips brushing his jaw. That broke him.

He swore again under his breath, something low and hoarse, before pulling away just enough to look me dead in the eye.

"Get in the back," he ordered. His voice was sharp, commanding.

I scrambled off his lap without question, my knees shaking as I pushed open the door and climbed into the back seat of the truck. The second I got in, he was already there, slamming the door shut behind him.

His hands were on me in seconds—gripping my waist, pulling me down beneath him, and all I could do was cling to him as everything we'd both been holding back came pouring out at once.

He goes back to kissing me just as desperate and hard. He starts working my shirt open with one hand as he supports my back with the other. Revealing a black lace bra I had underneath. Definitely not picked intentionally. He doesn't take my shirt off completely or my bra, he starts working kisses that will definitely leave a mark all throughout the tops of my boobs.

"Fuck Joel, just like that." I moan. Making his hand work up to my cleavage and squeezing it just right.

He starts making his way down my stomach with his mouth not bothered by the enclosed space we're in. He looks up at me with his puppy dog eyes as he starts unbuttoning my pants.

"Kick those pretty heels off and lift up your hips."

I do what he tells me and he starts taking my pants off.

His fingers trailed over the lace at my hips, his breath catching as he took in the full sight of me sprawled out for him in the backseat.

"Damn," he said, low and rough. "You really wore this just to kill me tonight, didn't you?"

I shook my head, my voice catching in my throat. "I didn't—this wasn't—" I swallowed. "I wasn't planning on any of this."

"Yeah?" His thumbs stroked just under the waistband of my underwear, barely touching skin. "Could've fooled me. You look so fuckin' pretty layin' out for me like this, babygirl."

And then his hands moved between my thighs again, slower this time, purposeful. The pad of his finger dragged across the center of me, through the lace, and I let out a shaky moan. My hips rising up like they had a mind of their own.

He murmured, voice rough and ragged. "You're soaked. I make you this wet?"

The words made my entire body jolt. There was no hiding how much I wanted him—how badly I'd been needing this. My thighs trembled as he rubbed slow, teasing circles through the damp fabric, just enough to build pressure, not enough to ease it.

"Joel," I gasped. "Please—"

He leaned in again, his lips brushing my cheek, then the shell of my ear. The weight of him, the warmth of his breath, all of it sent a shiver through me.

"You needed this, didn't you?" he whispered. "Been wound up all night, sittin' next to me like that, talkin' to me like that." All of a sudden he starts kissing my neck. Making me even weaker.

"Yes," I breathed. "God—yes."

He groaned, something guttural and wrecked, as his hand pressed firmer between my legs, his touch no longer teasing. He finally starts moving the lace over to one side as I feel his touch on my folds for the first time.

"Lay back," he said, voice thick with need, "Let me take care of you."

He slowly starts putting his 2 fingers into me. Slow and steady at first. I let out something obscene and desperate in that moment. So glad that I can finally let out this pressure.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned under his breath, like he couldn't believe it. "This pussy's so wet for me."

"Joel—" I said his name like a prayer, like a plea, and he answered it with his two fingers curling up, moving faster.

My hips jerked, the stretch making me cry out, but it was relief. It was heaven. It was him, curling his fingers just right as his thumb pressed down on my clit, working me like he already knew my body better than I did.

"That's it." he murmured, his mouth grazing my neck, his voice ragged and tight. "Wanna hear you. Tell me what you want."

"Fuck— you. All of you Joel. Don't stop—please don't stop—" I was panting now, my hands gripping, nails digging into his forearms he's supporting himself with.

He fucked me with his fingers like he couldn't help it, like he needed to get me there just to survive. The slick sound of it filled the car, obscene and perfect, and my moans only got louder with every twist of his wrist.

"You're squeezin' me so tight," he rasped. "You gonna come for me? Let me feel it?"

"Just like that —Joel—fuck—" I couldn't hold back anymore. My back arched off the seat, thighs shaking, the world narrowing to the fire spreading out from where he touched me.

And then I shattered.

The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, pulling a cry from my throat that didn't even sound like me. My vision blurred as I pulsed around his fingers, riding it out, letting him wring every last drop of pleasure from me.

Joel didn't stop. Not until I was limp beneath him, chest heaving, lips parted in shock.

He finally pulled his fingers out from me and making eye contact bringing them to his mouth, tasting me with a soft, filthy groan. Then kissing me just as desperate as before, making me taste myself on his lips.

"You've got no idea what youre gonna do to me." He says finally pulling away from me.

I just stared at him—completely fucked out, heart pounding, skin flushed. I didn't have words yet. All I could do was reach for him, still needing more. I wanted to make him feel just as good.

"I wanna take care of you too," I whispered, my fingers brushing his buldge, feeling how hard he was for me. "Let me."

His hand caught mine, firm but gentle. He looked at me like I'd just said something dangerous.

"Baby," he said softly, shaking his head with a crooked, pained smile. "You put that pretty mouth on me right now, I won't be able to stop myself."

The heat in my core flared all over again at his words, but there was something in the way he looked.

"I'll wait," he murmured, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. "You already gave me more than I fuckin' deserved."

Then he kissed me again—full and slow, all tongue and heat, like he needed to seal this moment between us. I moaned into it, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, letting him swallow every bit of me.

Eventually, he pulled away just enough to start doing up the buttons of my shirt, his touch gentle now, the intensity shifting to something quieter. Intimate.

I glanced down, cheeks flushed, still breathless, then looked around for my pants. They were crumpled on the floor of the truck. I grabbed them, laughing under my breath.

"You gonna put these on for me too?" I teased, holding them up with one hand.

Joel smirked, eyes dark but soft as they dropped to the scrap of lace still clinging to my hips.

"Sweetheart, if I touch you again right now, we're not leavin' this truck tonight."

I smiled, slipping my legs back into pants with shaking hands, still feeling the imprint of his fingers between my thighs.

He looked at me again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He looks down on his watch, "It's gettin' late," he said, voice low and a little rough. "You should get home, babygirl."

I gave a weak laugh, slumping back into the seat and tugging the last button of my pants closed, my body still humming from everything he'd done to me. "I don't think I can walk to my car."

Joel looked back at me, smirking—warm and lazy, but with that glint in his eyes like he was still thinking about what we'd just done. "Need me to carry you?"

"I think so" I said, trying to sound playful but my voice came out a little breathier than I meant. "Think I'm gonna need to ice my thighs or something."

That made him laugh, quiet and genuine, before he leaned over and pressed one last, slow kiss to my lips. His hand cupped the side of my face, fingers curling into my hair like he didn't want to let go just yet.

"C'mon I'll walk you out."

——————————————

an:

[imaswellkid]

Yes please 😣🧡

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (COMPLETED)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

One Shot: The Future

One Shot: The Afternoon

[pedroscurls]

stranded (one-shot)

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out... and you have no choice but to accept his help.

pairing: no outbreak/dark!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), DUBCON - please read at own risk / heed warnings!, stockholm syndrome, unprotected p in v, rough sex, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, begging, creampie, joel ties you up, spanking, light choking, fingering, age gap (reader is in 30s, joel is in 50s), no use of y/n. word count: 5.1k a/n: and here's yet another story where i'm stepping out of my comfort zone. i've always wanted to write dark!joel, but felt like i couldn't do it justice... but then ali's (@pedgito) hosting a writing challenge (spring fever) and i figured... why not? i chose backwoods horror #1 STRANDED/SIDE OF THE ROAD. please heed the warnings, y'all. this is gonna be very dark and filthy, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's ok!

You had no idea what you were thinking—taking a solo cross country road trip after quitting your job. Maybe you thought that you’d find yourself, find some kind of purpose that was lacking in your life, but instead, you’re stranded on the side of the road. Gas empty, no cell service, and phone already on its last battery. 

This is where you’re going to die—you’re sure of it. It’s how all horror movies start and despite the sun still high in the sky, you’re increasingly getting worried about what could happen when night falls. You scream at the top of your lungs, the sound echoing through the vast empty void. 

God, no one would hear you scream for help if you were in real danger and that thought simply frightens you. Your friends had all but praised you for this trip—this journey to self-discovery and reflection. Your parents, on the other hand, had already been concerned when you said you would be alone on this trip. A woman, traveling the world by herself? Well, that’s just asking for trouble, they said. 

And now you understand their concern. You understand their fear about you traveling all alone because of where you are now—in the middle of fucking nowhere. You should have refilled your gas when you had the chance, should have charged your phone while you were driving. Should have, should have, should have. 

10%—your phone reads. You try to send a text to your parents, to send them your location, but every attempted text just comes back with the message in red text and an exclamation point next to it: NOT DELIVERED! You raise your phone in the sky, hoping that maybe you’ll get one bar of service, but no luck. 

The trip had been successful, up until this point. You were in Texas, that you were sure of. But where in Texas? You had no fucking clue. 

You lean against the side of your car—the sun glaring down at you and you can feel a thin sheet of sweat on the side of your neck. Why did you think this was even a good idea? Traveling cross country without a plan—how fucking naive. 

Your battery drains fast and your phone finally shuts off. You let out a quiet sigh of frustration and open the passenger door of your car to toss your useless phone inside. Just as you’re about to climb in, you hear a faint noise of a car engine. Suddenly, you feel hopeful—maybe you won’t die here after all.

The sudden excitement that you feel overpowers the possibility that what you’re doing is absolutely dangerous. You’re waving your arms in the air, trying to track down the person in the car who’s making their way in your direction. It’s possible that this person whose truck is slowing down as it nears you could very well be a serial killer, but what choice did you have? 

The truck pulls up behind your car and quickly, you run over to your savior. Your hero. 

“Hi. My car’s dead, my phone’s dead, and I just need a lift to the next gas station... Or any place where I can use a phone to give someone a call,” you blurt out, breathing heavily. 

He turns his head slightly in your direction—eyes gazing at your face, then down to your shoulders and the rest of your body that he can see from the driver’s side. You’re leaning against the opened window of the passenger side of the truck. You don’t belong here, he knows that for sure. 

“Next gas station is in the next town over,” he finally answers. 

“Could you give me a lift there? I can pay you. Let me just grab my things and—”

“No need,” he interrupts, voice low. “I’m headin’ in that direction anyway. Get in.”

You grin and Joel’s jaw ticks briefly. God, you’re beautiful and it’s truly been a long time since he’s been with—

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you laugh, climbing into his truck and interrupting his thoughts. 

Joel finally takes in the rest of your frame and can immediately feel his length stirring beneath his dark jeans. His hands grip the steering wheel to ease some pressure, but you’re still talking and you’re laughing and it shoots straight to the center of his pants. It must be his lucky day. 

“If I were to kill you, I don’t think I’d be confessing that, darlin’,” he answers—the corners of his lips lift slightly. Oh, you had no idea what you just got into by climbing into his truck. 

“Right,” you reply. “That’s a good point.” You look at him—taking note of his damp hair that’s slicked away from his face, his broad frame, salt and pepper patchy beard. You realize that he must be in his fifties, but you can’t help but notice how handsome he is. That’s a good sign, you think. He won’t hurt you. He’s going to drop you off in the next town and hopefully, you’ll be able to head back home in the morning. 

“I’m guessing you live around here?” you ask, feeling the truck move back onto the main street. You glance out the window, watching your car become smaller and smaller as Joel drives further away from it. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Guessin’ you ain’t from around here.”

“That obvious?” 

He just nods. Joel needs to focus on the road ahead of him. He has to make it seem like he’s not a threat, like he’s not just about to take you directly to his home. His secluded home. 

You introduce yourself formally, telling him your name and turning your body to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” you smile in his direction and Joel glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Not much to say.”

“Well, how long is the drive to the next town? If you don’t have music, I’m gonna end up talking. I don’t usually like it when it’s too quiet on a drive and—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes,” he interrupts. “Radio is busted.” 

“So talking it is then.”

“No use in talkin’ if we ain’t gonna be seein’ each other after this.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you answer with a sigh. You try to remain quiet, fidgeting with your hands as you stare out the window. Every few seconds or so, you glance over at him and you can’t fully read his expression. He’s so stoic that there’s a part of you that feels like an inconvenience to him. Maybe he should have just kept on driving. 

“How long were you stranded for?” Joel asks. 

“About a couple of hours. Couldn’t get reception to call someone.”

“Yeah, phones don’t work out here.” Joel shrugs. “You eat anythin’ yet?” 

You shake your head. “Skipped breakfast this morning to get on the road.”

“My place is just a couple of minutes away,” Joel says. “I need to grab a few things. Got some food and water for you,” he offers. 

You smile and reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it makes Joel shift in the driver’s seat. Your touch is so soft, so gentle and he flexes his arm underneath your fingertips. “You’re sweet, Joel. That sounds great. I am starving.” 

Joel bites back a smirk. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your hand drops from his arm and there’s a subtle frown that settles on his lips before he pulls off the main road. Within minutes, Joel pulls up to his secluded home. When he shuts off the car, he looks over at you and you’re still smiling. 

“This is a cute place, Joel,” you tell him, climbing out of the truck. 

He follows you and rounds the truck until he’s standing behind you. His fingers itch to reach out to touch you—especially when you raise your arms over your head to stretch, the ends of your shirt lifting just above the waistband of your denim shorts. He wants to touch every inch of you and he lets out a quiet grunt when you accidentally fall back against him. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking over at him from over your shoulder. 

“S’fine,” Joel mumbles and then walks past you to walk towards his front door. He unlocks it and opens it for you, watching you step across the threshold as you look around with curiosity. 

“It’s very dark in here,” you point out, walking further into his home. You see a light switch on the wall and flip it on, illuminating his entire home. Surprisingly, Joel’s large hand encompasses your wrist in a tight grip. You let out a quiet gasp and turn around to look up at him—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. 

“You always like to make yourself comfortable in a stranger’s home?” he asks with a threatening tone. 

“S–sorry,” you whisper, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip but he doesn’t budge. His grip just tightens. “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

“Pretty little thing,” he mumbles, stepping closer to you. “It’s like you were waitin’ f’me out there,” Joel says quietly. 

“Joel—”

“Shh.” Joel brings a finger up to your lips and his eyes drift down, moving his thumb to brush against you. “Shh, baby.” 

“I think I want to leave now,” you answer. “I think I just want to head into town and—”

“Oh darlin’,” he grins. “Ain’t no town for at least another fifty or some miles.” 

“B–But you said—”

“Guilty,” Joel interrupts, turning you so that your back presses against the wall. He cages you in, hand still gripping your wrist as the other comes up to rest gently over your throat. “M’sorry I lied to ya.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, the realization finally hitting you like a freight train. You had spent most of the drive admiring him—his broad frame, his quiet and mysterious nature, his large hands that gripped the steering wheel, his husky southern accent—that you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

This was a bad idea. 

Getting into his truck was a bad fucking idea. 

“I just want to go home,” you whisper. “Please just let me go home and—”

“Shh,” he repeats. Joel steps closer to you, his nose brushing against your own. “Gonna keep you here all to myself. Been a while since I had a little plaything like yourself.” 

You shake your head. “Please, I’ll give you all the money I have back in my car.”

“Don’t want your money. Want you.” 

“Joel—”

“Love the way my name comes out of your mouth, darlin’. Say it again.”

You shake your head, closing your mouth shut. You know you’re in danger, but you’re not sure why you feel a familiar wetness pool between your legs. Your body is responding to him—to this stranger… this handsome fucking stranger who can easily strangle you if he wanted to. 

“Say. It. Again,” he repeats.

“Joel,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Joel grins proudly. He drops his hand from your throat and releases his grip around your wrist. He stares into your eyes, searching for any hesitation or any inclination that you’re going to run and leave. He sees your eyes flicker to the front door and he narrows his eyes—his large hand once more coming up to splay against your throat. Joel applies just a bit of pressure and he watches your eyes go wide again. “Wouldn’t think about it, if I were you.” 

You beg with your eyes—apologetic and pleading for him to just let you go. “I’ll be good,” you mumble against his grip. “I promise. I–I’ll be good.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” Joel nods, releasing his grip around your throat. “And I bet if I were to reach between your legs, I’d feel just how fuckin’ wet you are f’me, won’t I?”

You shake your head in defiance. “N–No…” 

Joel lets out a chuckle. “Mmm, that so?” He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts and pulls you to him. He’s so rough and there’s an excitement that courses through your veins. He tugs down your shorts and panties down your legs, looking down at your white lacy thong with a grin. He can see a blotch of wetness and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply as he lets out a contented sigh. “I bet you taste fuckin’ good too,” he whispers. 

You suddenly feel self-conscious and your hands immediately move to try and tug down the end of your shirt to cover your lower half. Joel just shakes his head and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head against the wall. You squirm against his grip and he kicks your legs apart, stepping in front of you to keep them spread open. His free hand comes down and immediately runs the pads of his fingers across the length of your sex—your body betrays you because you let out a quiet whimper as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Wet,” he points out. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Liar,” he chuckles. Joel wastes no time in sliding two of his thick fingers past your folds—your warm, tight, and so fucking wet that a large grin spreads across his lips. 

You squirm against him at the sudden and rough intrusion, eyes gazing up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and more than likely sinister thoughts, but you can’t help but notice his grin and the cute fucking dimple that appears on his cheek. You shouldn’t like this, but your body is yearning for more. Yearning for him. 

Joel’s thick fingers plunge into you repeatedly—his other hand gripping your wrists so tight above your head that you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You shut your eyes tightly, keeping your lips in a thin line and forcing yourself to stay quiet because you know that if you make a sound, it’s only going to fuel him further. 

His eyes stare deeply at you and you’re so wet that Joel’s fingers pump into you with ease. He can see you struggling against his grip and he leans closer, lips near your ear as he whispers huskily. “Lemme hear you, baby.” 

You shake your head in defiance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. You suck in a breath when his thumb brushes against your clit and a quiet—almost inaudible—moan escapes your lips. 

“Ah, darlin’,” Joel grins, gently nipping at your earlobe. His grip around your wrists loosen just slightly and he’s distracted, yearning to pull more sounds out of you and it gives you just the right moment to push him away. You miss his fingers immediately, a loud squelch echoing the walls when his fingers slip out of you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards with a grunt. You look around haphazardly, eyes wide, heart beating out of your chest. You’re very well aware that your lower half is bare, but you think maybe you can make a run for it—you just need to grab his keys, run out the door into his truck and drive away. 

You glance over your shoulder and Joel chuckles. He fucking laughs at your poor attempt at running away because he takes three strides in your direction and takes a fistful of your hair. You let out a loud yelp and he’s already quick to bend you over the back of his couch—the edge of it digging into your lower abdomen.

You’re already trying to squirm away, but his grip in your hair tightens and pain rushes through you. You’re about to beg him to stop, to beg him to let you go, but you feel his free hand connect with your backside. The slap reverberates through your entire being and the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass echoes through his quiet home. 

“You just got here, baby,” he growls—he doesn’t let up, your skin already reddening with each spank. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“I–I–” you mumble and your body reacts automatically, pushing back into him. “Please!” 

“M’gonna have to tie you up, I think,” Joel grins. “Just to make sure you don’t pull that shit again.”

Your ass is beginning to sting and you try to scramble away, but Joel pulls you upright against him. His large hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into you as he uses your body to rub his bulge against you. 

“I think you’re gonna feel real good around me,” he whispers into your hair, hand sliding over your abdomen and down between your legs. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t enjoyin’ this, but you’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

He begins to circle your clit with the pads of his fingers and it causes your back to arch against him, hands darting out to rest on the edge of the couch. A loud moan finally escapes your lips and Joel lets out a low growl at the sound—he wants to hear more of it, craves more of it. 

“From the way you’re squirmin’,” he continues, “Makes me wonder if you’ve been neglected.” 

You shake your head—lying.  

“Oh? Got a boyfriend back home, hm?” 

You shake your head again.

“Poor little thing,” Joel mumbles, head dipping down to the side of your neck as he presses his soft lips against you. It causes a shiver to run through you—his soft lips and his rough beard. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll take care of ya.”

You’re an absolute mess by the time Joel’s done with you. You’re lying on his mattress, hands bound by rope and attached to the headboard. You’re completely bare for him and he’s brought you to the edge of orgasm too many times to count that you’re practically begging for some release. 

His hands are surprisingly gentle when he settles himself back between your legs and it causes you to flinch. His fingertips brush against your hardened nipples, dark bruises already forming around it from his love bites—he liked to call it. 

“You’re soakin’ my sheets, honey,” he grins. 

“Then let me fucking come!” you retaliate with a huff. Your eyes go wide the minute it leaves your mouth and you’re already trying to scramble away from him, despite being all tied up. 

Joel laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re angry, baby… but let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” 

He finally pulls the ends of his shirt over his head and you lift your own head off the pillow to get a good look at him. There’s no way this fucking man is in his fifties—you shake your head of the thoughts that begin to fill your mind. He has you here held captive and you’re sure that he’s going to kill you once he’s gotten what he needed. 

But you can’t help it. 

Joel’s fucking gorgeous. 

Is this what Stockholm syndrome is? Attracted to your captor? Whatever the fuck it is, you’re squirming impatiently. There’s a dull throb between your legs, an ache, a need for him to give you what you need. 

And he smiles. The same fucking dimple that appeared earlier that day is now in full display because Joel knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? No more fightin’ back?” Joel begins, reaching down to tug his boxers down his strong legs. Once the fabric is gone from his body, your eyes widen once more at the sheer size of him. Girthy. Leaking at the tip. You’re not sure if it’d fit inside of you and Joel notices a flicker of uncertainty flash across your features. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’t you worry.”

You whimper quietly in response, feeling him brush his rounded tip against your opening. You try to wiggle your hips down, yearning for more, but he just pulls back and shakes his head. 

“Please,” you plead. You bat your eyes at him, gazing at him under the rim of your eyelashes. It’s a poor attempt at begging, at looking innocent because you look anything but that. 

Joel just lets a small smile line his lips before he pulls away and mounts your upper half. You clear your throat—the size of him this close almost threatening. 

“Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now,” he growls lowly. “Been pleasuring you for a while now, so it’s only fair that you return the favor.” 

“I–I haven’t come yet. Please just let me come and I’ll do anything—”

Joel clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his manhood across your mouth, smirking at the sight of his precome now on your lips. “You ain’t the one in charge here.” He pushes his tip past your lips and lets out a low groan. One hand moves to grip the headboard ahead of him as his other hand keeps a steady grip around the base of his length. “Open wider f’me,” he whispers. 

You have no choice but to obey—parting your lips wider and feeling more of his manhood slide into your mouth. You can feel the corners of your mouth stretch due to his girth. It isn’t long before he pushes further into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you gag almost instantly. Tears sting your eyes and he only gives you a few seconds to breathe before he pushes back into you. 

You squeeze your legs together, trying to alleviate some pressure that has been building and building between your legs and the pit of your stomach. You glance up in his direction only to see Joel with his head tilted back, chest and neck exposed, and his eyes completely shut. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he begins to move his hips forward and backward—you swirl your tongue around him, hollow your cheeks and it causes him to moan loudly. 

And fuck, it’s a beautiful sound to come out of him. 

He’s moaning. He’s deep in his own pleasure. 

And it’s all because of you. 

By the time he pulls out of your mouth, Joel’s eyes snap open to look down at you. Lips swollen, tears streaking down the corner of your eyes. You’re so distracted by your desire to come that you don’t realize what could possibly happen once he’s done with you. 

You’re going to die. 

Joel is going to fucking kill you. 

And this cross country road trip you had originally planned was a stupid fucking idea. 

Joel sees a look of fear flash across your features and it only makes him smile, makes his cock jerk at the sight of you. He moves down your body and settles himself between your legs again. 

“Gonna fill you up now,” Joel nods. “And you’re gonna lie there and take it like a good girl.” 

You nod. 

His hand comes up to grip your chin roughly, staring into your eyes. “Say it.” 

“I–I’ll be good. I’ll take it like a good girl and—”

Without warning, Joel pushes fully into you in one stroke. You feel your body jerk upwards at the sudden intrusion and you’re lucky that you’re so wet because while he slides in so easily, you can’t help but feel the painful stretch to give way to his size. Your hands try to wiggle out of the bondage, but the rope just digs further into your skin—it’s like he expertly tied you in a way that the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. 

Joel’s hand moves from your chin to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he remains still for a moment. “Feel so good,” he whispers, head dipping lower to brush his nose against yours. He can hear you panting heavily, lips parted slightly. “Like you were made f’me.” 

Then, Joel pulls out to his tip only to slam himself back into you. He repeats this movement multiple times and your moans—the ones that you’ve tried so desperately to hold back—finally escape your lips and mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

The bed rocks against the wall—his thrusts are so rough and you’re sure that your entire body is going to ache for the next few days. 

That is if you’re still alive by then.  

One hand moves to your hip as the other moves to wrap around your neck. He applies a bit of pressure to cut off your oxygen and you gasp, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Begging. 

Pleading. 

Not for him to stop… 

…but for more. 

Joel grins at that and continues his thrusts, the sensation of your walls sliding along his length only urging him closer and closer to release. He can feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to unravel and he pulls out, not yet wanting to be done with you. 

When Joel does pull out of you, he releases his grip around your throat and hears you take one deep breath. You’re breathing heavily and he looks between your legs—so fucking wet, so swollen and he taps your clit gently with the tip of his manhood only to see you squirm. 

You’re sensitive, he thinks to himself with a grin. 

“Joel,” you whisper. At this rate, you don’t care if you die. Having him bring you on the edge of an orgasm only to stop is worse, you’re sure of it. 

“Gonna keep you here forever,” Joel says with a dark gaze. “You’re mine now. You understand?” 

You clear your throat and nod slowly—anything to get him to make you come. “Y–Yes, yours.” 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing.” 

“Fuck, Joel! Please,” you beg. “I don’t care what you do to me, please just let me come…” 

Joel chuckles—dark, sinister. He leans down and lightly pecks your lips before he climbs off the bed to look at you from top to bottom. “Like I said, you ain’t the one in charge here.” 

Your eyes stare at him and you notice the way his manhood stands fully erect, glistening with your arousal. He follows your gaze and smirks, reaching down to tug on it. “This what you want?” 

You nod. “Please.” 

“So if I untie you, you gonna be a good girl and obey?” Joel contemplates, still stroking the base of his length. His hand doesn’t feel as good as being inside of you and he almost loses his resolve. 

But he doesn’t. 

Joel’s patient. 

“Y–Yes, please,” you plead once more. 

“Love hearin’ you beg, darlin’,” he grins. Joel slowly reaches over and begins to untie the rope around your wrists but he makes sure that his attention is focused on you. He needs to make sure that you’re not going to run again. 

Once the rope is finally undone, you roll your wrists and touch the bruises around it. You flinch and then look up at him—eyes still pleading. 

“One wrong move and I’m tyin’ you up again. You hear me?” Joel growls, seeing you move to sit up. You nod in agreement and he tugs on your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed with such force that you let you a quiet yelp. 

Joel flips you onto your abdomen and grabs your hips, lifting you up so that you’re now on all fours on his mattress. He comes up behind you and slides into you with warning—again. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and you fall forwards—cheek resting against his mattress, eyes fully shut tight, and your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turn white. 

“Feel even tighter this way,” Joel points out with a grunt. 

Your toes curl at his rough assault against you. It’s like he’s possessed, so territorial and so animalistic that his thrusts drive you further into the mattress. You wanted this, but you can’t help the pain that shoots through you at his size. Joel’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had and it wasn’t like you had a healthy sex life before this. 

“Fuck!” You scream, now trying to scramble away from him because it’s too much. He’s edged you for too long that you’re sure you can’t even get there—your body is humming and you can feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Joel knows. 

He laughs and grips your hips, pulling back onto him with such force that you arch your back. Joel grabs your arms and pins them at your lower back as he pulls your body forward and backward against him. He glances down and sees just how wet you are—the hair at his base completely damp from your arousal. 

“You wanted to come… then fuckin’ come,” Joel groans, pulling you up against his chest. He grunts into your ear as he keeps your arms pinned at your lower back. His other hand reaches around and dips lower to begin circling your clit against the pads of his fingertips. 

You moan so loud that it echoes throughout his home. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and he drags his teeth across the side of your neck—both your bodies now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

“J–Joel, I–,” a loud sob escapes your lips when you finally reach your orgasm. Your body shakes against his own and his thrusts don’t let up—still hammering into you from behind and using your slickness and tightened walls to bring himself closer to his own release. 

“Fuck,” he groans against you, releasing your arms and pinning you back onto the mattress. His hips sling against your own—Joel is literally fucking you into the mattress and you’re already so fucking sensitive that you try to move away. 

Fuck him. If he wanted to deny you of your orgasm, you can do the same to him. 

But it’s no use. Joel’s so much stronger and his large hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel pain from it. 

“S’cute,” he says in between thrusts. “Thinkin’ you can run away.” Joel grunts lowly, chasing his own orgasm. “Can promise you one thing, baby…” He slams into you once more and releases his warm seed into you—paints your tight and wet walls with his come. He leans forward, pushing further into you as his tip kisses your cervix. “You ain’t ever leavin’ me.” 

He presses soft kisses along your shoulder before he pulls out, watching with a smirk to see his come trickle out of you and down your legs. 

“You’re stranded, darlin’. Ain’t no one comin’ to save you,” Joel grins. “And I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Your brothers take you and Javi out to a local bar when you're home to visit. When you run into one of your old childhood friends, Javi can't help but feel jealous

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (whoops), creampie, breeding kink (only in the sense that there's no way in hell Javi's pulling out I know, who is she?), semi-public sex (gettin nasty in a grimy bar bathroom), two ass slaps, drinking/alcohol consumption, Jealous Javi, lowkey Javi is a dick (again, who is she writing nothing but fluff?!)

A/N: Shoutout to @yxtkiwiyxt for more horny Javi ideas rotting my brain at all hours of the day!!! 🤠 I can't believe that there has never been a jealousy one shot for these two in the great wide world of the NTL universe, but you bet your ass that Javier Peña is a possessive man to his core and tolerates zero bullshit from any man who dares to even look at you too long 😌 poorly beta'd bc I'm horny and impatient

Can be read as a part of the It's Never Too Late series!

"Another one?"

"Are you trying to make sure I have miserable hangover tomorrow?"

"Me? Never. Just tryin' to make sure you have fun." Your brother David teased, voice oozing with sarcasm as he popped off his barstool, giving you a playful nudge for your accusation.

While you and Javi had made a few trips back to your hometown of Chicago to visit your family since your move to Laredo, most of it had either been spent at your childhood home with your entire family, or at other family events, like your cousin's wedding a few months ago.

And of course, while your brothers, Charlie and David, were a part of your family, there was a substantial difference between spending time with your whole family together, and spending time with just your brothers.

So when they had convinced you and Javi to come out with them to Rossi's, your favorite dive bar in the city, under the guise of a few drinks and time to catch up, you shouldn't have been shocked to find yourself 4 beers and two shots of whisky deep, and preparing for a much longer night ahead of you than originally anticipated.

"'Nother one for you, big guy?" Charlie asked Javi, following behind David to make their way through the hot and sweaty mess of bodies crowding behind the bar for another drink.

"And before you answer, no isn't an option." David added, sneaking up behind Javi and shaking his shoulders.

"God, you are so annoying." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother, jabbing your elbow into his side to keep him from wrestling Javi out of his seat, "Just do two more beers. And I swear, if you come back with another shot, I'm pouring it over your head."

The four of you laughed before your brothers disappeared into the sea of bar patrons, leaving you and Javi giggling at your table.

"Fuck, I haven't drank this much since- God, I don't even remember." Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his head, rubbing the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"Me either." You replied, followed by a long, low burp and more laughter, "I think the last time I was this drunk, I was here with David and Charlie and all their friends watching the Blackhawks lose in the playoffs, but all I remember is Charlie telling me I threw up in a bush and that he had to carry me to our taxi to get home. But don't worry, I promise not to get that drunk tonight."

"Sounds good, party animal." Javi smirked, placing his hand on your thigh under the table, rubbing it back and forth along the denim of your jeans, snickering at your drunken giggles.

The two of you both reached for your drinks, finishing off the last of what was left in your beer bottles, startled when you swore you had heard your name from a voice you knew wasn't Javi's, Charlie's or David's.

"Cubby? Holy shit, is that you?!"

Setting down your drink, you swerved your head over your shoulder, jaw dropping in complete surprise to see Frankie, one of your brother's best friends you had known for as long as you could remember.

"Frankie?! Oh my god, what the fuck?! Hi!" You squealed, shooting up out of your seat to give him a hug, the alcohol already in your system perhaps making you a little more enthusiastic about your greeting you would have been otherwise.

"What the hell are you doing here?! I thought the goons said you moved to Texas after everything that happened!" Frankie asked excitedly, parting from your hug to take a step back and look at you, shocked by your presence.

"I did, but I'm here visiting for the week! Charlie and David are at the bar right now getting drinks, but they'll be back in a second! Frankie, oh my god, I'm so happy to see you!" You grinned, giving him a playful shove.

"Me too. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever! You- You look great-" He paused, trying his best to play off his comment, quickly shifting topics, "Things uh, everything's been going good for you?"

"Yeah, things have been great! How about you? Wait, we have a table right here, do you wanna sit down and catch up? Unless you're busy, I don't wanna keep you!" You offered, gesturing towards the table behind you where Javi was sitting.

"Yeah, yeah, that would be fuckin' great! I'm meetin' a few buddies here later, but I have plenty of time to catch up if you guys have some room to squeeze me in!"

While you knew there would be plenty of room for one more person at your table, even after your brothers returned, what you didn't know is that since the moment Frankie had shown up, everything about Javi's once happy and carefree demeanor had completely changed.

And not for the better.

As soon as you turned around to face Javi, you could immediately sense the shift in tension, watching his brow furrow and hand wrap tighter around the neck of the near empty beer bottle he was nursing, practically burning a hole through Frankie with the way he was staring him down.

It seemed like Frankie could immediately sense it too, looking over at you before looking back at Javi, as if to silently ask who the hell was sitting with you and your brothers, looking like he was ready to commit murder, at the very least.

"Who's uh...." Frankie paused, awkwardly laughing as he nodded at Javi, trying his best to not seem off-put by Javi's clearly uncomfortable expression.

"I'm so sorry, Frank, this is my-"

"Fiancé. Javi." Javi stated, cutting off the rest of your introduction as he stood up out of his seat, sizing up Frankie as he offered a forceful handshake.

"Fiancé? Lucky guy." Frankie replied, forcing a friendly smile as he shook Javi's hand, "Congrats, I had no idea you were engaged." He shrugged, looking back at you with a more genuine expression before awkwardly shuffling around the table to find a seat across from you and Javi.

"Thanks, we got engaged in November and the wedding's in July!" You chimed in, hoping to try and ease Javi's obvious, unwarranted hostility towards Frankie.

"Oh nice!" Frankie nodded, smiling at both you and Javi, the crinkle in his cheeks dropping at Javi's still unamused facade, "Where you guys gettin' married? Here or Texas?"

"Texas." Javi answered, short and snappy with his response.

"Frank the Tank? No fuckin' way man! What's up?!"

The three of you all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at David's voice, turning your head to see him and Charlie making their way back, beers in hand.

"What's up, you goons? Long time, no see!" Frankie grinned, standing up to greet your brothers with happy pats on the back.

As the three of them said their 'hello's' you stayed put next to Javi, whapping his shoulder with the back of your hand, forcing him to face the frustrated frown plastered across your expression.

"What the fuck was that for?" You whispered to him, not wanting to draw any attention from your brothers and Frankie as they caught up.

"What?" Javi asked, shrugging nonchalantly before taking another sip of his beer, setting down the empty bottle with a forceful thud.

"W-what- What the fuck do you mean, 'what'?" You frowned, quickly realizing that Javi was trying to play dumb about the clearly uncomfortable interaction he and Frankie had just been through.

Javi silently shrugged again, jaw ticking from side to side as he looked back and forth between you and Frankie before speaking again.

"Just have never heard of Frankie before today. Didn't know you'd be so excited to see someone I didn't even know existed until five minutes ago."

"I've known Frankie since I was like, six years old. He's been one of my brother's best friends for like, ever. So yes, I was excited to see him. Would you like me to disclose every other person I've ever met and not mentioned to you, too?" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling your scowl sink deeper into the wrinkles of your forehead.

Both groups of conversations seemed to lull at the same time, Frankie, David and Charlie all turning back towards your table to see the sour looks on both yours and Javi's faces.

"You good?" Charlie asked, handing a beer to you and then one to Javi.

"Listen, it was super nice to see all of you guys, but I don't wanna overstay my welcome or anything. I can just wait at the bar for my buddies if the four of you wanna hang out." Frankie suggested, clearly realizing he must have been the shift for the change of tone at the table.

"What, you're gonna catch up with these two idiots and leave me hanging? Seriously, please stay, we haven't hung out all together in forever!"

While Javi was able to make it subtle enough to everyone else, you could clearly tell that your invitation was the exact opposite of what he was hoping to hear.

"Only if you're-"

"Yes, I'm sure, Frankfurter, get a drink and sit your ass down!" You insisted, shooing Frankie towards the bar along with your brothers, the three of you howling over Frankie's long forgotten childhood nickname.

If he hadn't made it blatantly clear before, your avid encouragement for Frankie to join your group certainly had.

Right now, Javier Peña was one thing, and one thing only.

Jealous.

"I still can't believe you won't admit that I beat you!"

"Because you didn't!"

"I did, and you know it, David! C'mon you guys, back me up here!"

It hadn't taken much for the five of you to down a few more drinks- For four of you, you let the alcohol flowing through your veins loosen you up even more, laughing and reminiscing about your favorite shared childhood memories, teasing and taunting each other over the silly trials and tribulations of your youth.

For the other, the few beers and glasses of whisky swirling around in his stomach were nothing but a way to keep from saying (or doing) something out of spite that he'd regret.

"I'm gonna be honest with you here, Dave, I'm not gonna say that your sister's right, buuuut...." Frankie smirked, holding up his beer bottle to you, giving you a silent cheers of approval.

"See?! Told you! Thank you, Frankie, at least someone knows what they're talking about." You teased, giving David a jab in his stomach as he rolled his eyes at you.

"Dare I say, Cubby is more of a badass than either of you two clowns, but I don't know if you can handle that conversation yet." Frankie smiled, reaching across the table for a fist bump, "She's a pretty kick ass hockey player, ya know."

Javi had been so focused on picking at the waterlogged label of his beer bottle, he hadn't even noticed that Frankie was trying to talk to him, only looking in his direction after a nudge from your brother.

"Hmm?" Javi hummed, barely bothering to look in Frankie's direction to acknowledge his comment.

"I said your fiancé is a badass. Didn't know if you knew how good she was at hockey, that's all." Frankie shrugged, before taking another sip of his beer.

"Yeah, why the fuck would I not know that? She's my fiancé." Javi huffed, jaw clenching.

"Javi, seriously?" You whispered, shooting him a stern look as you had to quite literally bite your tongue to keep from causing a scene at the way he was behaving.

"Sorry, man, I- I was just givin' her a compliment." Frankie grimaced, shooting you an apologetic look from across the table.

"Yeah, I think you've made it pretty fucking clear how much you like complimenting her." Javi grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear and to having you fuming at your fiancé's enraging behavior.

You took one long, low deep breath, trying to compose yourself as the rest of the table sat in uncomfortable silence, wishing they had a chainsaw to cut through the palpable tension shrouding the air.

"Can I talk to you for a second, please?"

Javi knew just as well as you that even though you had phrased it as a question, he certainly had no choice in the matter, begrudgingly trailing behind you as you silently excused the both of you from the table.

In a stark silence, Javi followed behind you through the sea of drunken strangers that filled the bar until you reached a semi quiet hallway near the back of the building by the bathrooms.

You let out a frustrated sigh as your back bounced against the wall, using it to prop yourself as you stared at Javi, arms folded over his chest and eyes wandering in anywhere but your direction.

"What the fuck is going on, Javi? And don't bullshit me and say that you don't know what I'm talking about because you clearly do." You demanded, nostrils flaring and fists clenched.

"Like I really need to fucking say it." Javi huffed, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh.

"You don't, because you've made it very clear, but yeah, I'd like to hear you say it."

You could feel the heat seething through your veins as Javi chewed at the inside of his lip, trying to bide whatever time he could to keep from bruising his pride.

"Wow, I really cannot believe this. You're seriously that threatened by Frankie?" You scoffed, stunned that Javi couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"I'm not fuckin' threatened by him." He spit back, eyes peeled to the ground. "He's just way too fucking comfortable with you."

"Oh, you cannot be serious. Because I've known him forever and he's a nice guy? Jesus Christ, Javi."

"I've been watching the way he's been fucking looking at you since the moment he said hello to you. How he's talking to you, acting with you, it's like- Jesus, it's like he trying to-"

"What? Like he's trying to flirt with me? Like he likes me?" You questioned, raising your voice enough to finally get Javi to look at you, letting him feel the frustration you were engulfed in.

"Yes! Jesus fucking Christ, yes!" Javi groaned back, growing more heated by the second.

"And what if he was, Javi? What if he was trying to flirt with me? Do you really in your right mind think that I would ever, EVER pick him above you?" You asked, throwing up your hands in defeat, voice trembling as you fought back tears, "So what if he was? I'm yours, Javi, and I've got the fucking ring on my finger to prove it."

You and Javi stood in silence for a moment, watching each other's chests rise and fall on beat. You swear you can see it in his eyes, the way everything about Javi seems to shift, realizing how badly he'd fucked tonight up.

Before you can get in another word, you can see Javi's eyes lock on the single stall bathroom door that's swung open at the end of the hallway, looking once at you and once again at the bathroom. You weren't even able to protest before he had grabbed you by the hand, checking once over his shoulder before ushering you inside and locking the door behind him.

As the lock clicked, you could feel the heat in your cheeks burning, and not just with anger like they were a few moments ago. The dim light of the bathroom flickered over the shadowy figure of Javi's broad body until he had your back flushed against the sink, pinning you between the porcelain and him.

"Javi, what are you-"

Suddenly, Javi had one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your hip as he craned his neck down to let his lips collide with yours.

The angry part of you wanted to push him off you, to berate him with your frustrations until he apologized for how childishly he had behaved tonight.

Every other part of you that was so turned on by the fact Javi was so worked up, he had no other choice than to fuck you in the bathroom to prove that you were his, couldn't have cared less about it.

"You're all fucking mine, you know that?" Javi growled, his words warm against your skin, muffled between messy kisses.

"I'm all yours, Javi." You moaned, fighting to let each word escape from your lips as your mouths became frantic, colliding with tongues and teeth.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as Javi's hands slid down your sides, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper on your jeans until he the denim and your underwear pooled around your ankles.

After your jeans had dropped to the ground, his hands were back on your sides, fingertips digging into your skin as he flipped you around, your stomach pressed against the countertop, ass flushed against his hips where you could feel the strain of his cock beneath his pants.

"No one else gets to have you like this. Gets to make you feel like I do." Javi groaned, your core aching at the clanking of his belt coming undone behind you, watching his brow furrow in concentration in the reflection from the mirror in front of you, "Do they, baby?"

"N-No." You whimpered, feeling him run his tip through your folds, collecting the slick that had already begun pooling between your thighs.

"You gonna let me fuck you right here in this bathroom, hermosa? Let everyone here know that you're mine?" Javi mewled, whispering into your ear as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Mhmmmhh." You nodded, whining as Javi teased you with the head of his cock, prodding at your entrance, "Please."

Javi chuckled softly to himself, hearing you gasp as he filled you with every inch of him, hips pressed firmly against your ass. You could practically feel your eyes roll to the back of your head with how full he felt inside you, despite how easily you had taken him from how wet and worked up you were.

"Love this pussy so much, baby. Always so fucking wet and tight for me."

Your eyes opened as Javi began to thrust into you, startled by the already deliberate pace he was setting with each snap of his hips. Staring back at the mirror, you could see the smug smirk spreading between Javi's cheeks, knowing how quickly he could make you crumble.

Your hands shot back behind you, wrapping around Javi's stomach, trying to grab fist fulls of his shirt to brace yourself as he fucked into you. With the grip Javi had around your hips, you shouldn't have been worried about going anywhere, only about the marks that he'd leave in the pump flesh of your skin after he was finished.

"Oh fuck, Javi! Fuck, oh my godddd-" You moaned, all consumed by the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, perfectly pounding at your g-spot with every thrust.

You tried to let your head dip back, but before you could tilt it any further, one of Javi's hands had shifted, snaking up your front and wrapping around your jaw, forcing your gaze back in the mirror to meet his.

"Nuh uh, mi amor," he paused, gritting his teeth as he swore under his breath, trying to compose himself, "need to see you, Osita. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum and fuck you so fucking full of me, you're gonna feel me dripping out of you all night."

His words had seemed to spark something feral in the both of you, moaning his name as you backed your ass up further into him, taking everything that he had to give.

With your eyes locked in filthy glass reflection, Javi's hand slid back down your sides, smacking your ass before reaching around to your front, slotting himself between your thighs to find your clit, puffy and aching to be touched.

"Fuck, Javi! Feels so fucking good." You whined, the newfound pressure of his fingers against your clit causing the tingle building at the base of your spine to grow rapidly.

"Yeah? And who's the only one that gets to make you feel this good, baby?" Javi grunted, hips slapping against your ass, each thrust feeling harder and deeper than the last.

With the way Javi was fucking you, you felt lucky that your brain could manage to string together a coherent thought, let a lone a comprehendible sentence, your words heavy and breathless as you fought against the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm starting to creep through your body.

"You! It's- fuck- it's you Javi! Only you!" You sobbed, praying that the music and chatter of the bar was loud enough to drown out your volume.

"That's my girl." Javi devilishly grinned, feeling the way your cunt was clamping down around his cock, sensing how close you were to finishing, "Gotta cum first for me, hermosa. Fuckin' soak me before I cum so deep inside of you."

Javi began to circle your clit faster, putting just enough pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves to push you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm began to crash through you.

"Fuck, Javi! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-ahhhhh!"

You could feel how instantly limp your body had gone, so drunk on pleasure, that if Javi hadn't been behind you, holding you up, you were convinced you would have collapsed over the edge of the sink you were fucking on.

You knew Javi wasn't far behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and frantic as he chased his own high, desperate to make good on his promise to fill you with every last drop he had to give.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, I'm- mierda- I'm close. Gonna give you everything. Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to. Feels so fucking- fuck- so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one last pump of his cock, Javi was spilling inside you, painting your walls with his spend, burying himself inside your cunt until he you had taken everything he had to give.

The warmth and wetness of your mixed arousal pooled where your bodies met, making a mess between your thighs as Javi began to pull out.

The both of you watched as your bodies rose and fell in the mirror, trying desperately to catch your breath in your post orgasmic haze. It wasn't long until your unhinged jaws were replaced with devious smirks, Javi grabbing you by the waist to flip him back towards him, pulling you to his chest as he kissed you.

"Damn, maybe I should make you jealous more often." You teased, biting down on your lip as you gave Javi a loving poke on his chest before reaching down to pull your pants back up your legs.

"Whatever." Javi sighed, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he did the same, looping his belt back through his jeans. He let out another deep breath, arms crossed over his chest as he looked up at you with a sheepish shrug, "I'm- fuck. I'm sorry about tonight. I was a dick."

"It's okay." You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to drape your arms around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "I love you. And only you. I don't think you could get rid of me, even if you tried. And I think that me letting you fuck me in this dirty ass bar bathroom proves that."

The two of you laughed, turning back to the mirror to readjust the sweaty mats of tangled hair and crinkled clothes in hopes of avoiding any suspicions when you made your way back to the table.

"I know. Still shouldn't have been an asshole about it." He shrugged, stepping behind you so that his chest was pressed against your back and arms were draped across your front, his mustache tickling your neck as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "This was fucking hot, though."

"It was. Feel sorry for the next person who has to use this bathroom." You grimaced, hoping that you hadn't managed to leave a trace of the ways you had further disrespected the dingy restroom.

"You wanna head out first, or should I?" Javi asked, rocking you back and forth in his grasp, swaying you just enough to make you burst out into giggles.

"It's so late and I'm sure everyone here is hammered, we probably just could sneak out at the same time and no one would notice." You suggested, still drunk enough to not care enough about a proper escape plan.

After one last kiss and smack of your ass, Javi quickly cracked open the door, doing one swift scan before giving you the nod to note the coast was clear.

Javi grabbed you by the hand, looking back at you with a stupid smirk as the two of you left the bathroom, unsuspecting and assuming that you'd be able to make it down the hallway without any run ins.

Unfortunately, Javi hadn't noticed the body across the bar, making a B-line to the bathroom through the drunken crowd towards the bathrooms after his half-assed check.

Before any of you could process it, Javi collided with the other person, both people grunting and stumbling backwards, mumbling apologies as they collected themselves, until they locked eyes.

"Oh, uh- Sorry. Didn't uh- Didn't see you guys coming." Frankie stammered, looking back and forth between you and Javi and the bathroom you had just emerged from, quickly piecing the puzzle before him together.

"All good. See you, uh- see you back at the table." Javi winced, trying his best to keep from laughing as both your cheeks began to turn a bright shade of pink as you slid past Frankie.

"Looks like you may not end up being the only jealous one tonight, Jav."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[andy-15-07]

Last patrol

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1710 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

A/n: I have no words after watching the second episode, I was expecting Joel's ending, because I watched the video game, but I didn't think it would be so soon, it was hard for me to write this fic with tears in my eyes, I tried to make another alternative. I liked, or rather I loved this character like crazy. I hope you like it and I'm sorry in advance if it makes you cry

The sun had barely cleared the jagged outline of Jackson’s broken rooftops when Joel and Dina slipped out through the guardhouse gate. Fresh snow crunched under their boots, and the world felt impossibly quiet—too quiet. Joel adjusted the sling of his rifle across his shoulder, glancing back over his shoulder at the settlement’s wooden palisade. “You sure all’s good in there?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep and unspoken fears.

Dina jabbed a gloved finger at the satchel slung low across her chest. “I packed extra rounds. Dog patrol’ll be fine.” She lifted an eyebrow, that half-grin he’d come to know so well. It was the same grin she wore when she knew they were asking too much of themselves.

He managed a crooked smile. “You’ve got the right gear, Dina. Let’s just—” He cut himself off when she caught his gaze, her dark eyes warm and steady. “Just be careful,” she said, and clipped the words with an uncharacteristic softness.

“Always,” he promised, pushing off toward the tree line. A ridge of pines marked the boundary where the world beyond Jackson opened up into frozen ruin. They both tightened their jackets, the chill dragging at their bones, and stepped out into the silent white.

—————

By the time Y/N noticed Joel and Dina’s absence, the pale winter sun had climbed higher. Cold and heavy with morning frost, she paced their small cabin with slow, deliberate steps, her hand never straying far from the curved swell of her belly. Two months gone, and every ache in her body was a reminder of the life growing inside her.

Ellie hovered in the doorway, boots encrusted with snow. Her dark hair clung to her face in damp tendrils. “You okay?” Y/N’s lips twitched into a tired smile.

Y/N waved her over. “I’m fine. I just… I can’t sit still.” She motioned to the doorway. “You want to come? I’m worried about Joel.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up with purpose. “Let’s go find ’em.”

Together they bundled back into their coats and stepped onto the porch. The wind bit at their cheeks but offered something exhilarating: movement, the promise of action. Y/N pressed her mittened hand into Ellie’s back. “You lead.”

—————

Joel and Dina had followed tracks,fresh footprints in the snow,leading toward the old Caldwell estate, an abandoned manor left to rot. Stories whispered that the family had fled years ago; locals said the place was crawling with infected. Jackson sent patrols around it for good measure.

They’d been at it twenty minutes when it happened: a sudden whisper of alarm, Dina’s sharp hiss in his ear: “Infected!”

Joel spun, rifle raised, as shambling figures,a runner, then another—emerged from the trees. He fired once, twice; the shot cracked in the air, and the first one dropped. Dina backed up, eyes scanning. “That’s—”

A scream, human, desperate. Joel’s heart stuttered. Not noise from the infected,the voice belonged to a woman, crying out. “Dina, wait—”

But Dina was already moving, sprinting toward a gap between the pines. Joel cursed and followed.

They rounded a bend in the hill to find Abby pinned under a fallen beam, shin splitting. She twisted, knife held high, as two infected lunged. Dina yelled and raised her pistol; Joel fired, tearing both to pieces.

Abby didn’t look at them. “Help,” she gasped, voice tight as wire.

Joel stepped forward. “Easy-We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Abby snarled, eyes wild. Dina crouched to lift the beam; Joel braced it. But before they could toss it aside, Abby kicked out with enough force to send Joel sprawling backward into the snow. She ripped her arm free, blood slick on wood. She stood, glancing at them,Joel in the snow, blood staining his shoulder, and Dina shocked, hand frozen on the beam.

Joel pushed himself up. “You okay?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she straightened, fixed them with a lethal stare. “Who are you?”

He swallowed. “Patrol. Jackson.”

Abby’s lips curled into something like a smile. “Jackson.” She looked at Dina. “Is he—”

Dina stilled, realization dawning. Joel’s eyes flicked to Abby’s. “You—”

Before the word left his lips, Abby lunged. A single brutal move: she wrapped her forearm around his throat and yanked him backward, spine snapping against the snow. Joel’s rifle clattered away as he gurgled, hands scrabbling uselessly. Dina cried out, rushing forward, but Abby kicked her so hard the girl went sprawling into a drift.

Y/N and Ellie,following a distant gunshot,reached the crest of the hill in time to see Joel’s body slump. Dina’s anguished scream pierced the cold. Ellie froze, arm outstretched toward the slaughter. Y/N clutched her belly, horror searing through her like ice.

“Joel!” Ellie screamed, but only the wind answered, whistling across the frozen field.

Abby turned, eyes locked on Y/N and Ellie. She started to smile, but something in Y/N’s face—raw grief, undiluted rage,suddenly broke the killer’s calm. She fled into the woods, disappearing as swiftly as she’d arrived, leaving only the dying echo of her footsteps.

Y/N dropped to her knees by Joel’s side, fingers shaking. Ellie fell beside her, silent tears falling into the snow. Joel’s eyes stared sightlessly at the sky, a single rivulet of blood tracing from his mouth. Dina crawled to him, cradling his head in her arms, rocking back and forth as tears froze on her cheeks.

Y/N laid a gentle hand over Joel’s chest, feeling the stubborn warmth slowly fade. “Joel—please,” she whispered, voice cracking. Ellie pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “You can’t leave us.”

But Joel was already gone.

—————

They carried him back to Jackson on a crude stretcher, the sun sinking low and painting the world in blood-orange light. The marching steps echoed through the settlement, drawing everyone out: hunters, farmers, children. They formed a silent procession to the makeshift chapel. Dina walked at the front, her face set in a mask of grief so fierce it had the power to steal breath. Y/N followed close behind, hand on her swelling belly, shock and sorrow swirling in her eyes. Ellie stayed on her other side, expression hollow.

Inside the chapel, they laid Joel’s body atop a rough bier. They covered him with the faded quilt Y/N had embroidered, before the world ended, with golden threads spelling out “FAMILY.” The candles flickered, casting trembling shadows against the log walls.

Maria’s voice, firm but gentle, filled the hush. “He defended this place. He defended you all.” She paused, eyes lingering on Y/N and Ellie. “He would have given anything to keep you safe.”

Dina stepped forward, voice unsteady. “He was our shield. Our rock.” She swallowed, then she looked at Y/N. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N knelt by the bier, tracing Joel’s worn hands. She felt numb, apart from the cruel twist in her gut as the baby kicked against her ribs,a reminder that life still pressed on, indifferent to death. She pressed her palm to Joel’s chest. “You promised.”

Ellie hugged her, tears soaking into her coat. “We’ll keep going. For him.”

For a long moment, they all stood there, bound by loss. Outside, the wind howled, and a few flakes of snow drifted through a crack in the door. Someone lit a candle for Joel; one by one, they all did, until his bier glowed under a halo of flickering light.

—————

When the crowd dispersed, Y/N remained, kneeling by Joel’s side. Ellie had gone to see Dina; the two friends clung to each other outside, faces streaked with tears. Y/N felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Maria.

“He would’ve wanted you to rest,” Maria said softly. “You need to care for yourself and the baby.”

Y/N nodded, although her world felt hollow. She pressed a kiss to Joel’s forehead. “I love you.” She rose slowly, every movement a battle against the grief crushing her.

Maria guided her out into the dusk. The sky burned violet over the mountains, the air colder now. Y/N pulled her coat tighter. “What now?” she whispered, voice raw.

Maria met her eyes. “Now, we live. For him, for you, for the life he helped create.”

A sob caught in Y/N’s throat, but with it came a spark,a fragile flicker of resolve. She put her hand on her belly. “For our baby.”

Maria nodded. “And for Ellie, and Dina, and everyone Joel loved. He didn’t die in vain.”

Y/N let the words sink in. The pain was endless, but the promise remained: a new life, shaped by Joel’s legacy, by the love he gave, the protection he’d fought for until his last breath.

She stared out at the settlement’s wooden walls, now illuminated by torchlight. Faces,resilient, determined,looked back at her. She felt the weight of their expectations, the silent plea that she carry on.

She took a deep breath, snowflakes sprinkling her hair. “All right,” she said, voice steadying. “Let’s go home.”

—————

Inside the cabin that night, Y/N warmed her aching body by the fire. The quilt lay folded neatly on the bed. She reached for it, tracing the gold letters: FAMILY. She closed her eyes and remembered Joel’s laugh, his steady arms around her, the gentle way he’d place his hand on her belly.

A soft knock came at the door. Ellie slipped in, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes weary but determined. She held a battered guitar case. “He wanted you to have this.”

Y/N opened it to reveal Joel’s favorite guitar,scratched, worn around the edges. She ran her fingers over the strings. Ellie’s voice trembled. “He always said music kept him alive.”

Y/N nodded, tears spilling. “He did.” She lifted the guitar into her lap. Gently, she strummed a chord,half-remembered, half-broken. It rang pure in the small room.

Ellie sat beside her, leaning her head on Y/N’s shoulder. “Play for him.”

Y/N closed her eyes and began to play the soft melody Joel used to hum when the world felt too heavy. The notes trembled, then grew stronger, rising up through the cabin’s rafters, echoing into the freezing night.

Outside, the wind carried the song, scattering it across Jackson’s sleeping streets.

And though Joel was gone, his voice lingered in every note,a promise that love endures, that even in death, the people we cherish become the heartbeat of the world we carry forward.

[multific]

Meant to Be

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: He fought for his freedom and your hand.

In ancient Rome, a love story unfolded between a bold gladiator named Marcus Acacius and a beautiful noble lady, whose heart longed for freedom. 

However, their love faced impossible obstacles, primarily the strict and overbearing father of the noblewoman.

Marcus, a strong and skilled warrior, fought in the grand arenas of Rome.

His every victory brought him one step closer to the freedom he yearned for. Little did he know that destiny had something more in store for him.

One day, as Marcus stepped into the arena, his eyes met the gaze of a noble lady, whose name was yet unknown to him. 

Her radiance captivated his soul, and from that moment on, Marcus fought with a new fire within him, fueled by the desire to win not only his freedom but also the heart of the lady.

Your paths intertwined further when, against all odds, Marcus caught the attention of the noble lady's father, a stern and unyielding man who demanded nothing but the highest standards for his daughter. 

He saw potential in Marcus, both as a gladiator and as a worthy suitor for his beloved daughter. If Marcus could prove his worth.

You on the other hand.

You were not blind.

You could see the gladiator looking at you in a certain way.

You could also see just how handsome he was. How great his built was.

You noticed the way he moved, the way he always won. You liked him.

As Marcus continued to triumph in the arena, his reputation grew, and whispers of his love for you reached your ears. 

In secret, you exchanged stolen glances and heartfelt letters, your love blossoming despite the obstacles that stood in your way.

Determined to prove himself worthy, Marcus embarked on a difficult journey, training tirelessly to become more than just a gladiator. 

He studied the arts, philosophy, and etiquette, moulding himself into a man who would be worthy of your hand.

The day of reckoning arrived when Marcus was granted his freedom. 

With his newfound liberty, he approached your father, humbly seeking his blessing to marry his daughter. 

Your father, initially sceptical, witnessed the change Marcus had undergone, and his heart softened. 

He recognised the genuine love that existed between his daughter and the brave gladiator.

"You may marry my daughter." your father said and Marcus felt fulfilled. 

His freedom was nothing compared to the feeling of his love and dedication finally reaching his goal.

With tears of joy running down your face, you ran into his arms, finally embracing Marcus. 

"I knew you would do it. I knew you would come for me." you whispered.

"Always." he replied before embracing your lips with his.

It all felt so right.

Meant to be.

In a grand ceremony, surrounded by many, Marcus Acacius and you, a noblewoman exchanged vows of eternal love, promising to cherish and protect each other for the rest of your lives.

Marcus, the once-captive gladiator, became a free man, not only in body but also in spirit. 

Together, you embraced a future filled with love, respect, and shared dreams, forever grateful for the journey that had led you to this moment of true happiness.

And it was only you and your husband.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[myownwholewildworld]

so how are we feeling about this idea...

imagine old man!joel miller prematurely coming in his pants while you knead his bulge and to make it up to you, he lets you ride his nose until you come/squirt all over his face, a reverse creampie if you will, while the viagra takes effect... 😮‍💨

anyways.............................. (someone pls enable me so i dig my teeth into this fic idea)

[ak-vintage]

From the Ground Up - Chapter 1

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x OFC ("Reader" Format/Second Person POV)

Series Summary: After getting laid off from your job, you are forced to move back in with your parents until you can get back on your feet. You can't help but feel like you have started your life over again at square one, but when your dad's best friend offers his help in the form of a job at his burgeoning construction business, you learn that maybe there is more than one path to the life of your dreams.

Chapter Summary: A few weeks after settling back in to your childhood home, Joel and Sarah come over for breakfast.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: None. (Still 18+ like the rest of my blog.)

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As a child, you often had felt like you lived within the eye of a hurricane. In the two weeks since you had moved back into your childhood home, you had seen little evidence that the tempest had calmed in the years you had been gone.

“Goddammit – ”

Just as he had when you were growing up, your father Malcolm provided the temperature. Warm as a late summer’s day, you had never met someone who could command a room quite like him. He was larger than life with his looming, rugged build, his boisterous laugh, his relentlessly outgoing nature. A bull of a man, indominable and loud, you had yet to encounter anyone immune to his particular brand of brash, good ol’ boy charm.

“Malcolm, please. My head.”

Your mother Angela, on the other hand, provided the storm. Harried and temperamental, she swept through the house with all the steadiness and predictability of a gale-force wind. And evidently, if the long-suffering sighs and groans filtering up the stairs were anything to go by, she had imbibed a few too many glasses of pinot grigio at one of her social club get-togethers the night before. A frequent enough occurrence that in the days since your return, you had already begun to anticipate it.

In the back of your mind, you made a quick note to yourself to keep the lights in the house low and to avoid turning the TV up too loud today.

“Sorry, sweet pea.” The apology was half-hearted and distracted, the sound of slamming drawers and cabinets accompanying the words. “Feel like I’m losing my fuckin’ mind – ”

“Language!”

“ – flippin’ mind. Jesus.” More rustling and thumping echoed up the stairs and through your closed bedroom door. Even from beneath your sleep-warm pile of blankets, you could feel the energy downstairs escalating, could sense your father’s frustration like a living thing growing more and more agitated by the moment. It was your cue to get out of bed, you knew. If you did not, the likelihood that one of your parents would be pounding on your door in the next few minutes only grew.

With a reluctant sigh, you tossed back your covers, grabbed a hair scrunchie from your bedside table, and padded sleepily out into the hallway.  

Downstairs, the bull had begun to bluster. “Have you seen my glasses? Can’t see a damn – darned thing. When did they start printing newspapers so small?”

Your mother’s retort was quick in spite of her hangover. “Probably the same time people stopped buying the silly things. You’re the only one on the block who still gets one, you know.”

“Not true! Joel gets one every Sunday!”

“Of course, he does.” The eyeroll was audible even from the stairwell, and you smothered a grin.

You were halfway to the first floor before the sound of your father’s footsteps could be heard plodding across the hardwood, eating up the space between the kitchen and the stairwell in long, loping strides.

“Kathryn!” he called, deep, booming voice making you cringe. Did he not hear what your mom just said about her head, you wondered?  “Kathryn!”

“Mac, I swear to all that is holy, if you holler in this house one more time – ”

There it was.

“I’m here,” you said quickly, your bare feet hitting the floor at the same time your dad appeared around the corner, ready to summon you from your bedroom. “What’s up, Dad?”

The look of relief on his weathered face when his eyes met yours was almost enough to make up for the unpleasant wake-up call. “Ugh, thank god. Please tell me you know where my glasses are.” Gesturing with the thick, rolled up newspaper clenched in his fist, he growled, “If I have to stare at this paper without ‘em for another minute, I’m gonna go cross-eyed.”

“In the living room. On the end table by your recliner.” You could see them in your minds eye as clearly as if they were in front of you – propped up against the stack of coasters, forever smudged with fingerprints and warped with bifocal lenses. “You were reading last night before bed, remember?”

The man chuckled and shook his head at you fondly. “Babygirl, I don’t remember what underwear I put on this morning.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you offered him a wan smile instead. “I’ll grab them.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Planting a dry, affectionate kiss on your forehead, he turned and retreated back into the kitchen, where you were sure your mother still sat at the table nursing her headache. “Oh! And – would you mind topping up my coffee while you’re at it?”

“Sure.”

You grabbed the glasses from the living room (precisely where you had thought they would be, of course) before joining your parents in the kitchen and heading straight for the half-full coffeepot. Your mother likely was on her second or third cup, and though your father seemingly had drunk only half of his, you knew he couldn’t bear the taste of lukewarm coffee. If it wasn’t hot enough to burn, it wasn’t hot enough for him.

If your parents were the hurricane, you had always been the very center. You were the calm, the control, and while the two of them might whirl and rage around you, somehow, you always managed to be the one to keep it all together. It was the only way your family functioned, and not for the first time, you found yourself wondering how they had managed in the decade or so since you had left for college.

You had just finished refilling your father’s cup when the doorbell rang.

“Ah!” your dad crowed, foul mood forgotten as the sound brought a smile to his face. “That’ll be them!”

You frowned in confusion. Were your parents expecting visitors?

Apparently so, but rather than the joy the arriving guests seemed to have inspired in your father, your mother appeared nothing but distressed. Running her fingers anxiously through her sleep-mussed hair, she gasped, “They’re early!”

“No, they’re not, they’re right on time.”

Your mother’s hands came up to clutch at the gaping neckline of her robe, tugging it shut so not a sliver of her matching pajama set underneath could be seen. “I’m still in my robe, Mac! How am I supposed to receive guests in this state?”

Your dad sighed but didn’t look up from the newspaper spread open before him. “Well, why don’t you go get changed, and Kathryn can make breakfast?”

Kathryn can make – ?

“Wait, what’s going on?” you asked, incredulous.

But your mom was already on her feet, scurrying toward their first-floor bedroom. “I’ll be back in a bit, Kathryn, sweetie. Just get the pancakes started, and then I’ll take over.”

“Uh – okay?”

From the foyer, the doorbell rang once more, making your mom startle and yelp. Not a handful of seconds later, she had disappeared down the hall.

Your dad, however, appeared entirely unphased by the sudden commotion. Leaning back casually in his dining chair, he took a sip of coffee and said, “Babygirl, can you get the door, please, before they give up and go home?”

“Who is they?!” you demanded.

A hint of exasperation appeared on his face then, and he sighed, flapping his hands in a shooing motion toward the front door. “Just – ”

“Fine.” Quickly abandoning the coffeepot back on its warmer plate, you hustled into the foyer, swiped your palms on the fabric of your sleep shorts, and tugged open the door.

Vibrant morning sunlight poured into the house, overwhelming you for a moment as you squinted to make out the silhouette of your guests. However, that didn’t slow down the shorter of the two, who immediately threw open her thin arms and wrapped you in a hug the moment she laid eyes on you.

“Katie!” she squealed, her voice girlish and bright in your ear as you suddenly found yourself with a face full of voluminous, dark brown ringlets. “Welcome home!”

You would recognize that cheery tone anywhere.

“Sarah, hey! It’s so good to see you!” You accepted the hug eagerly, overwhelmed with the fact that the little girl who used to follow you around at neighborhood barbecues was suddenly about to surpass you in height. “Wow, look at you – when did you get so tall?!”

The lanky teenager laughed, offering you one final squeeze, before a low, Texan drawl responded for her.

“Kid’s growin’ like a weed. Can’t seem to get her to stop.”

Releasing Sarah from your arms, you glanced over her shoulder. There, a foot or so from the doorway where you stood, hovered a man who looked to be in his mid-forties with warm, dark eyes, broad shoulders, and a scruffy beard threaded with hints of silver. A suggestion of a smile tugged at the corners of his soft, downturned mouth, and you found yourself matching that smile without a thought.

“Joel. Hi.”

“Hey there, darlin’.” He extended a hand to you, which you took immediately, and his calloused palm was comfortingly warm and firm as he shook your hand. “You’re a sight for sore eyes around here. I’m sorry I haven’t been by to say hi since you got into town, business has been slammed – ”

From deep inside the house, your father’s voice boomed. “Are you just gonna stand there with the door open all morning, you old son of a bitch? You’re lettin’ all my AC out!”

Sarah giggled, drawing her lips in as though swallowing a smile, and you fought the urge to do the same.

“Don’t listen to him,” Joel murmured softly, a hint of annoyance creeping into his gruff tone. Shouting just past you into the house, he replied, “Only if you’re gonna spend all morning sittin’ on your ass! And who’re you callin’ old? Last I checked, you’ve got at least a decade on me.”

At that, you did grin and, with a sweeping gesture, stood back and beckoned for the father and daughter to come inside. Both paused in the foyer to toe off their shoes – Sarah’s a well-loved pair of Chuck Taylors in bubblegum pink, Joel’s a pair of brown leather work boots that he hadn’t even laced up all the way in anticipation of just kicking them off again. Joel and Sarah had moved in next door to your parents during your sophomore year of college. The distance from their front porch to yours was less than 20 yards.

From the kitchen, your dad could still be heard rambling on. “Ah, decade-schmeckade! You and I both know that once you break the big 4-0, it’s all downhill from there.”

You rolled your eyes, catching a similar expression flitting across Sarah’s face. “C’mon. I’m making breakfast, apparently,” you quipped.

As the three of you entered the kitchen, your father finally stood, folding up his newspaper and setting it off to the side so he could clap Joel on the shoulder. A flicker of self-consciousness passed over his features the moment his gaze landed on Sarah, but he was quick to recover as he turned to greet her.

“Sarah, honey! So nice of you to join us this time – sorry about that language earlier, I didn’t know there were impressionable ears present.”

The teenager waved off the apology and instead collapsed into one of the open dining chairs. “It’s cool, I hear way worse from Uncle Tommy.”

“Kid still thinks he’s 20 and back in the barracks,” Joel agreed, sinking into his own chair in a way that gave the impression that this was something he did often, as if the chair was his even though it existed in his friend’s home and not his own.

“Tommy’s like, almost 40, Dad,” Sarah said with a frown. She poured herself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher your mother had left out on the table, and for the first time in the chaos of the morning, you noticed that the table had been set for five people instead of the typical three.

“And you’d never know it, would you?”

Settling back into his own chair with an aged groan, your dad flicked his gaze in your direction and asked, “Could you grab us a couple more coffee cups, Kathryn?”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure.” On your way past the table, you pulled the pair of reading glasses out of your pocket and slipped them onto the table in front of him. “Here’s your glasses.”

The noise he made was triumphant as he picked them and slipped them onto his face. The wrinkles around his eyes and between his brows eased immediately, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit as his tense shoulders dropped in relief. “Ah! Finally! I tell you what, it’s hell gettin’ old.”

You were back in less than a moment, the handles of two coffee mugs threaded through your fingers and the pot of coffee back in your hand. Dropping the first mug in front of Joel, you immediately began to pour a generous portion for him.

“I can take care of that, darlin’,” he was quick to protest. “You don’t have to – ”

But you waved away his objection before he could even finish putting together the words. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Inclining his head at you in thanks, he offered you a gentle smile. “Very kind of you.”

Something about that smile accompanied by his low rasp had your cheeks heating, and you were quick to round the table and place the second mug in front of Sarah. “Coffee?” you offered. Sarah had to be…what? About 15 now? Precisely the age that starting to drink coffee became cool, even if one hadn’t quite acquired the taste for it just yet.

Her thoughts seemed to have gone in the same direction as yours, as she took a moment to answer. Her bright, hazel eyes bounced from the coffee cup to the pot in your hand and back again, and when she finally spoke, her words were tinged with hesitation. “…do you have any creamer?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yep – I’ve got vanilla cinnamon and birthday cake flavors.”

Her expression lit up immediately, all reluctance vanishing as though it had never been there to begin with. “Ooo, birthday cake, please!”

“You got it!”

As you retreated to the refrigerator on the other side of the room, you could hear your father start to grumble. “Can you believe it?” he said, leaning toward Joel conspiratorially. “Girl’s got me stocking those fru-fru milks and creams and whatnot. Takin’ up half the damn fridge with that shit. Not even coffee by the time she’s done with ‘em.”

You glanced back over your shoulder, hitting him with a dubious stare as the warmth in your cheeks spread to your ears and down your neck. “It’s two bottles, Dad. Two small bottles.”

“Nothing wrong with treatin’ yourself every now and then,” Joel said diplomatically, and then it was your turn to offer him a smile of thanks. That was one of the things you liked most about Joel, why the two of you had always gotten along so well on every other occasion you had interacted. He was steady, even, and fair, and you were glad to know that your dad had a friend who provided such a grounding presence. Heaven knew he wasn’t capable of providing that for himself.

A brief moment later, you returned with the mostly-empty coffeepot and the bottle of birthday cake creamer, both of which you offered to Sarah. The girl happily served herself and topped off her cup with a generous glug of the creamer. Bringing it to her lips, she took a tentative sip before gifting you with the widest, sunniest grin you had ever seen.

“Okay, that is insanely good,” she proclaimed, and you found yourself squeezing her shoulder with affection.

“I’m glad you like it! Blueberry pancakes or regular?”

Her eyes widened. “Blueberry?”

“Can do!” Turning to her father, you added, “How about for you, Joel?”

The man seemed a bit taken aback to be asked, but he was quick to recover, replying, “Oh, whatever you’re makin’ for everybody else is just fine with me. Don’t need to go out of your way.”

You shook your head. “It’s not a bother, honest.”

But before Joel would muster a response, your father interjected. “Just make him the blueberry, babygirl. And same for me. But plain – ”

“ – plain for Mom, I know.”

And you did. If your mom discovered that you had prepared her meal with any sugar that wasn’t absolutely necessary (including in the form of a fresh fruit), you would never hear the end of it.

“And where is your better half this morning?” you heard Joel ask as you made your way over to the stove.

“Oh, you know how she is,” your father replied dismissively. “Can’t be seen at less than her best. She’s getting all dolled up for ya. Now, never mind her, tell me what’s going on with the Langston property.”

Your father had made his career for more than two decades as a real estate developer in the greater Austin area, and over the years of their friendship, he and Joel had formed a kind of…informal joint venture. Your father would scout land for purchase and contract for financing, and when he won the bid, as he often did, it was understood that he would hire Joel’s construction company as the builders on the project. Joel managed his firm out of a small office in South Austin in partnership with his younger brother Tommy, who you had only met once before.

It was a mutually beneficial relationship – your father would turn profits on the properties built by Joel and Tommy, while their growing company would have a steady influx of work that otherwise might have been difficult to compete for in a sprawling metropolitan area like Austin. When you had first learned of their arrangement, you had admittedly been skeptical on the longevity of a friendship with the potential of such high financial stakes. After all, wasn’t there a saying about never going into business with your friends? But over time, the two men had managed to strike a balance between business and camaraderie that you couldn’t help but admire.

You allowed their chatter to dissolve into the background as you found yourself absorbed in your task. A griddle pan on one half of the stove and two skillets on the other, you deftly juggled the pancakes with a pile of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs and a rotating stock of long strips of frying bacon. You had only been tasked with the pancakes, of course, but you knew your mother well enough to know that she would not be quite as quick freshening up as she had claimed. The woman was meticulous in her appearance – you had several minutes still before she would be returning.

It wasn’t until the first round of pancakes were coming off the griddle to cool that you heard approaching footsteps from down the hall.

“All right, everyone, I’m back!” your mother announced as she breezed into the room, the scent of her delicate floral perfume trailing after her. Glancing up, you took in her perfectly coordinated blouse and cropped trousers, her curled hair and fresh face. She was wearing her signature lipstick, a vibrant shade that complimented her complexion and set off her eyes.

“Good morning, Joel! Always so nice to see you!” she said cheerfully, flitting around the table to offer him a welcoming hug. He stood to receive it and patted her gently on the back.

“Angela. Thank you for having us.”

“Oh, of course! You know you’re one of our favorite people – you’re welcome here anytime!” Turning to his daughter, she added, “And Sarah! So glad you could join us today!”

Sarah nodded and offered her a polite smile in return. “Nice to see you, ma’am.”

“Please, honey, call me Angela! ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel old!” Guest greetings now taken care of, she redirected her attention to you. “Oh, Kathryn, you already started on everything else?”

From your station in front of the stove, you shrugged. “Bacon takes the longest, and I wanted the eggs to be finished at the same time as everything else.”

Your mom buzzed back over to your side of the kitchen and dropped a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “A treasure, sweetie, honestly. Have you got this then?” she asked, gesturing at the surface of the stove, jammed full of steaming cookware.

“Yeah, go sit,” you said with a nod toward the table.

“Oh, and the coffee – ?”

“I started a fresh pot.” The bubbling and hissing of the drip machine on the counter could only barely be heard over the sound of sizzling bacon. “Your cup is at your spot at the able.”

With the glow of the approving smile your mother gave you, you would never have known that the woman was most assuredly still feeling the effects of last night’s wine.

“Perfect!”

“Everything’s delicious, darlin’,” Joel proclaimed as he finished off his last piece of bacon, his plate entirely clean except for the odd pancake crumb and smear of syrup. “Thank you for breakfast.”

You felt that heat from earlier return to your cheeks as you took in his appreciative expression, the way he leaned back from the table like he couldn’t possibly eat another bite. People tended to enjoy your cooking, you had found, but it had been some time since you had cooked for someone other than Jacob or your parents.

“No problem,” you replied softly, suddenly feeling almost shy at the attention. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“He doesn’t even really like pancakes, so if he’s saying yours were good, he really means it,” Sarah quipped as she scooped another bite into her mouth. The edge of her top lip was stained with blueberry, and it made her look young in a way that you found deeply endearing. “He tries making them for me on the weekends sometimes, but they never come out like this.”

Her father’s answering smile was self-deprecating, and for the first time, you made note of a shallow dimple that carved itself into his cheek with the gesture. “It’s true,” he confessed.

Was it a trick of the light, or were the tips of his ears turning pink?

“It’s no trouble,” you assured them both, feeling the warmth in your cheeks grow in response. “I like getting to cook for other people.”

The table lulled into a brief, comfortable silence then, the quiet punctuated only by the sound of silverware on plates. After a beat, however, Sarah spoke again.

“Your dad was telling us the other day that you lost your job.”

The statement cut through the air like a blade, sinking into the pit of your stomach as the bite of eggs in your mouth suddenly became clammy and unappetizing on your tongue.

“Sarah,” Joel hissed, jaw tight with reproach.

“What? It’s true,” she countered. “Why can’t we talk about it?”

The man sighed, squeezing the pressure points along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

Swallowing forcefully, you allowed yourself to nod. “Uh. It’s okay, we can talk about it.” You set down your fork, hands seeking refuge in your lap as you fought the urge to fidget. “Yeah, I did lose my job. My company did a round of layoffs. I was…one of the unlucky ones.”

Sarah’s dark brows drew up in the center, her forehead crinkling in sympathy. “That really sucks.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Joel added.

You offered him a close-lipped smile at the sentiment, that pit in your stomach easing only slightly. “Thanks.”

“Any luck so far on the job market? I know things are kind of rough out there at the moment.”

Shaking your head, you grabbed your coffee mug for something to do with your hands. There was nothing invasive about his gaze, or Sarah’s for that matter, but something about having your…failure put on display and talked about so blatantly made your skin crawl anyway. “Not so far, no.”

Your mom interjected then, though whether because she sensed your growing discomfort or Joel’s, you couldn’t say. “She’s been applying and applying and applying, but nobody’s biting.”

“I have a friend who just moved to town a few months ago for her aunt’s job! She works in a doctor’s office, I think. Maybe her office is still hiring?” Sarah said hopefully, and you couldn’t help but soften at the suggestion. She had always been a sweet girl, Sarah Miller. You were glad to see she had retained that even into her teenage years.

“That’s a nice idea, but I doubt it would be a good fit,” you replied.

Joel cocked his head at that, leaning forward slightly in interest. “Remind me what you studied in school?”

“Business. With an emphasis on information systems.”

You jerked forward slightly as a heavy palm landed on your shoulder, your father patting you there with all the gentleness of a slamming door. “Kathryn’s a whiz with computers,” he boasted.

The other man quirked an attentive eyebrow, and something like intrigue shone in his dark brown eyes. “Is that so?”

An embarrassed chuckle forcing its way out of your throat, you broke his gaze and instead occupied yourself with staring into your mostly-empty coffee cup. “Don’t let him fool you,” you are quick to reply. “He likes to brag, but it’s really not that interesting. I’m not a developer or anything.”

“Well, I wouldn’t sell yourself short,” Joel countered with a shrug. “There’s all kinds of people around here who don’t know the first thing about technology. Myself included. I’m sure you’ll find something in no time.”

It was a comforting thought, the idea that maybe your skillset wasn’t quite as pedestrian as the last several months of job hunting had led you to believe. You couldn’t bear the idea that your four years of college had been a waste, that all your professional experience had amounted to nothing. You had worked so hard to end up where you were, and although it had been a simple life, it had made you proud.

Because it was yours and no one else’s, because you thought that all of your sacrifices had finally been recognized.

Now here you were. Back where you had started, except somehow poorer for it because you knew now what you had lost. At almost 30 years old, you felt as though someone had picked you up and placed you back at square one of the boardgame, and you couldn’t help but grieve that.

Even if it was from the mouth of your parents’ neighbor, even if it was likely a simple platitude, there was something soothing about the idea that someone out there believed that you could come back from this.

“Thanks, Joel,” you said earnestly, allowing yourself a small smile. Your dad’s friend matched it, and you swore you could feel the warmth of that smile even from across the table.

With a jolly laugh, your dad cuffed you on the shoulder once more. “And until then, it’s like she never left!”  

Just like that, the warmth dissipated, your smile weakened on your cheeks, and you sensed Joel’s dark eyes watching you crumble as you drew back into yourself for the remainder of the meal.

“Thanks again for having us, Ang. This was nice.”

Joel drew your mom into a hug as all of you hovered in the foyer, waiting to say your good-byes. Breakfast had lingered a bit longer after the awkward conversation surrounding your current unemployment, both of your parents seemingly oblivious to your darkened mood, but as midday approached and you still sat conversing around the table, Joel had risen to his feet and made it clear that he and Sarah would not be overstaying their welcome.

“Of course, of course!” your mom tittered, patting the broad-shouldered man delicately on the back as she returned his embrace. “Always good to see you, Joel! And you, Sarah, honey!”

Rocking back and forth on his heels, thumbs hooked in his belt loops, your dad asked, “You’ll look over that offer I sent you?”

Joel nodded. “First thing in the morning.”

A frown tugged on your dad’s brow, carving deep wrinkles into his leathery face. “Any chance you could look at it today? I wanna be first in line for that bid, Joel, and you know if I get it, the build contract is yours.”

“It’s Sunday, Mac. It can wait ‘til tomorrow.” There was an affable smile in his voice, but you could sense the firmness beneath the words all the same. He turned to you then, extending his hand in your direction just as he had when he first arrived on your doorstep. “Darlin’. Breakfast was amazing. Appreciate it.”

You felt the corners of your mouth tug upward, your first real smile in nearly an hour softening your face. “‘Course. It was nice to catch up.”

“I take it I’ll be seeing more of you around?”

You shrugged wryly, your grin twisting into something ironic. “I’ll be here.”

The good-humored smirk Joel offered you in return warmed you from the inside, and he gave your hand one last firm squeeze before releasing it. “Looking forward to it. Take care now.”

“You, too.”

You hugged Sarah good-bye next, promising that she was welcome to come by any time if she wanted some company after school until her dad got home, though you had been a teenager recently enough to know that she likely would not take you up on the offer.

It took just another handful of moments for Joel and his daughter to finish their good-byes, but the door had hardly been shut for the span of a breath before your dad was hiking up his khakis and checking his watch dramatically.

“Welp, ladies, I’m off to the golf course! I’ve got a tee-off time at noon with Doug, and I refuse to be late again.”

Your mother, for her part, was already draping herself across the sofa, resting her head on one of the many throw pillows decorating its surface, and closing her eyes. “Okay, drive safe,” she sighed.

“Thanks, sweet pea.” To you, he granted a jaunty wave and a carefree grin. “Catch you later, babygirl!”

And then he was gone, disappearing out the front door right on Joel’s heels.

“Whew!” your mother groaned, folding her arm up over her eyes to block out the sunlight still pouring in from the front windows. “I do love to host, but it’s so draining!”

Swallowing the bone-deep sigh that threatened to spill from your lungs, instead you lowered the blinds and flipped the end table lamp off. “You want some Tylenol and a seltzer water?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“That sounds perfect, thank you, sweetie.”

Later that afternoon, your father still at the golf course and your mother fast asleep on the living room sofa, you quietly closed your bedroom door and withdrew your phone from your pocket. It was later in the day than you would have preferred to message Jacob for the first time, but you could hardly have planned for the chaos that had unfolded this morning, and you knew he preferred to sleep late on the weekends anyway.  

hey baby! hope you’re having a nice sunday! what are you up to today?

A minute passed, then 30, then an hour, and you found yourself sorting and folding laundry just to pass the time as you waited for a reply. It was nearing two hours since you had sent your first message before your phone finally vibrated, and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from pulling up his response immediately.

not much, going out to watch the game with justin later

Almost two hours later, and that was the extent of his reply?

Perhaps he was simply…busy, you reasoned. Maybe he was in the middle of something. Something…

Something “not much.”

that’s fun! i hope you guys have a good time! tell justin i said hi! will do my parents had some friends over for breakfast this morning. didn’t even tell me they were coming, i answered the door in my pjs lol hot haha more like awkward!

You waited a moment, hoping to see those telltale blue dots appear at the bottom of your screen as he composed a response, but none came.

It did not take long for you to get antsy and send another message.

are you getting ready to go yet? soon you wanna have a ft call before you go? you can assess their hotness for yourself 😉 ?? my pajamas. you called them hot. oh right haha

Again, the conversation stalled, and you shifted impatiently on your feet.

so do you want to? facetime? isn’t that weird with your parents in the house? my dad is golfing all afternoon and my mom fell asleep on the couch. no one will hear.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you paused, mulling over the idea that had just begun to take up space in your head. Maybe now was the time to suggest the thing that you had been hoping to try, the thing that you had assured your boyfriend would still be possible when you moved away, to tide you over between day trips to visit one another. Something deep inside your abdomen – a part of you that you had been suppressing since your return to your parents’ house – stirred at the thought.

Steeling yourself, you tapped out the message and hit send before you could second-guess it.

plus i know how to be quiet when i need to be. remember?

The wait for his reply was long and agonizing, and you nearly threw your phone across the room a handful of times to stop yourself from checking it every 10 seconds. Just as you were about to give up, however, you felt the thing vibrate twice in quick succession against your palm.

sorry babe i can’t rn text you later after the game?

A wave of disappointment washed over you, the warmth that had begun to gather at the apex of your thighs going cold, and suddenly you were fighting to urge to toss your phone for an entirely different reason. But you said nothing of the sort; of course you didn’t. Instead, you drew a steadying breath and replied:

sure that’s fine. have fun

It was hours later, as you were preparing dinner and packing a lunch for your father for the next day, before you allowed yourself to check your phone again. Waiting there for you was a single text, one sent shortly after your last.

thx ❤️

Jacob never did text you after the game ended.

Credits: Dividers - @saradika-graphics

Taglist: @shchristine @80ssong @half-moon16 @sunshinehaze1 @kilamonster @peepawispunk @almostfoxglove @orodeah @rosebuds-and-moonlight @brittmb115

If you would like to be included in the taglist for this fic, please comment on this chapter or send me a message!

[punkshort]

Just This Once: Part Two

Pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Your dad surprises you after work with a brand new bed as a late birthday present. The kicker? Joel is there to help assemble it, leading to a very tense afternoon.

Warnings: no outbreak au, language, smut (18+ MDNI), age gap, phone sex (alluded to), sexual tension, references to masturbation (both), reader's mom is dead, reader has hair (length unspecified), size kink, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, sneaking around, mutual pining, takin' nudes

WC: 6.6K

Part One | Part Three

Let me know when you get home safe

You smirk and collapse into bed.

I've been home for 20 min. What took you so long?

Then...

??

You roll your eyes and burrow deeper into your covers.

I thought you'd text me sooner. I left almost 40 min ago.

You wait anxiously for Joel to reply, staring at your screen for the words to appear. Truthfully, you have no idea what you even want him to say, just that you want to keep him talking.

I had no idea what to say

You grin and before you can reply, another text comes through.

Still don't

Butterflies bloom in your stomach as you type out your response.

Where are you?

It takes less than thirty seconds for him to answer: bed.

You're thinking about me in bed?

You can practically hear his heavy sigh from across the city.

We can't do that again, I told you

Do what?

Don't play dumb darlin - you know what

I just asked a question.

Your old man's got a shotgun in his basement, I've seen it

Your shoulders sag and you relent.

Ok ok.... it won't happen again and I won't breathe a word of it to anyone. Promise.

Good

And you think that's the end of it. After you don't reply to his last text and he doesn't add anything further, you roll over to switch off your lamp and you do your best to focus on falling asleep without thinking of Joel's deep brown eyes gazing up at you while you ride him, all hazy and filled with desire. You quickly find it's impossible not to and it has you tossing and turning while trying to ignore the fresh ache growing between your legs. You skirt your hand down past your sleep shorts with a frustrated huff when, to your delight, your phone lights up again.

What are you wearing?

---

It's Friday, fucking finally. Your entire week at work had been shit. You made one tiny mistake that ended up costing you three hours to fix, a mistake you don't normally make and you just know it's because you've been distracted.

It's been two weeks since you've gone to visit your dad, meaning it's been two weeks since you've laid eyes on Joel. That night you shared should have slowly become a distant memory, but instead you found yourself texting him every single day, making it impossible to forget. Sometimes it was innocent enough, but at one point or another the conversation always turned flirty, which then turned heated, which then evolved to one of you giving in and calling the other so you could whisper filth into the phone with your fingers stuffed inside your pussy, but no matter how much you try, you're never able to get as deep or make yourself feel as good as Joel did.

It's driving you crazy.

So when you arrive home from work Friday afternoon and throw your car into park, you're too distracted to notice a familiar pickup truck parked on the street. To be fair, you live above a restaurant, so there's often cars parked along the street. You've learned to block it out. But when you go to open your door only to find it already unlocked, your heart stutters in your chest and you glance around. That's when you spot your father's truck and you roll your eyes.

"Dad?" you call up the stairs from down below.

"Yeah, honey, up here!"

You close the door behind you and trudge up the stairs, dodging various pairs of shoes you store on the end of each step. Right when you turn to enter your kitchen, you hear your father talking and laughing with someone. You don't have much time to wonder who it is because then you hear his voice, all low and velvety smooth. The very same voice that just the night before was telling you through the phone how much he missed your perfect, soft pussy and then begged you for a picture.

It suddenly became impossible to breathe.

"Hey, Kiddo," your dad says when he steps out of your bedroom. He's carrying large cardboard pieces to the stairs and sweat coats his face. "Me 'n Joel are puttin' your new bed frame together. Almost done."

Him and Joel. Joel. Putting together your bed. Joel is in your bedroom.

Your skin feels like it's on fire and your blood is pumping so fast, it makes you lightheaded.

"Uh, w-what new bed frame?" you stammer, forcing yourself to move out of his way.

"The one I promised for your birthday," he calls over his shoulder from your stairwell. Your eyes rake across the kitchen towards your open bedroom door, but Joel is nowhere to be seen. "Sorry it took so long but I told ya I'd get to it."

"Oh," you say, "uh, t-thank you. You didn't - um - you didn't have to do that."

Your dad emerges from the stairs and your gaze sweeps back over to him.

"Sure I did. It's your birthday present. 'Sides..." He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and looks to the floor when he says, "felt bad 'bout our fight. Wanted to make things right, check in on ya. Miss seein' you 'round."

"Oh, Dad, it's fine. I'm not mad anymore, I've just been busy with work and stuff," you say. He looks down at your work clothes: a thin blouse half tucked into an off-white pencil skirt and heels.

"Look so grown up," he murmurs softly. You give him a small smile and shrug, temporarily forgetting Joel is just in the next room until your dad says, "Don't my little girl look all grown up, Joel?"

Joel's standing in the doorway to your bedroom, staring at you across the kitchen. You swallow and tighten your fingers around the edge of your counter and you fucking pray your father doesn't read the hungry look in Joel's eyes when he slowly and appreciatively sizes you up and down.

"Yeah," he finally says, voice only a little gravelly. It could be innocent, but you knew better. He clears his throat and tries again. "Look real grown up."

You give him a smile, one you hope looks natural. "Thanks, Joel."

Your dad snorts and crosses the kitchen, heading back towards your bedroom to finish your bed frame. "Callin' him Joel now? Since when?"

Joel locks eyes with you and you see it. You fucking see that heated look he gives you, letting you know exactly what he's thinking about: you, grinding down on his lap and whispering little teases in his ear while calling him Mr. Miller.

"Oh, uh, I-"

"I told her to," Joel says over his shoulder once your dad disappears into your bedroom. Joel's eyes remain firmly pinned on you when he adds, "She's grown now 'n all."

Your eyes widen and you shoot him a look, but Joel just grins and turns back around, back into your fucking bedroom, to help your dad finish up.

Your head spins. This is not the way you wanted Joel in your apartment for the first time. You tiptoe in your heels to peek inside your room, where your father is sprawled out on your carpet with a wrench and Joel is holding your new padded headboard in place. Your dad is murmuring to himself as he focuses on securing the headboard to the rest of the frame but all you can focus on are Joel's massive hands curling around the beige fabric. You bite your lip and lean casually against the doorframe, allowing yourself to fantasize about Joel's grip on that headboard while he's pounding into you over and over and-

"I'm gonna order some pizza!" you exclaim suddenly. Your dad pauses and looks at you curiously but Joel just smirks. There's no possible way he didn't see right through you. Not with that smile and the way his cheeks tinted.

"Alright," your dad says slowly before focusing back on his work. You hurry into the kitchen and place an order from the restaurant downstairs, then anxiously look around. You're lucky your place isn't messier. At least your laundry is put away and the only dishes in your sink are from breakfast.

Still in your work clothes, you wander over to check your fridge, delighted to find that you have a few cans of beer left over from your friends.

In your bedroom, you hear your dad tell Joel he's all done. You hear shuffling and you imagine they are putting your bed back against the wall because next, they pop out of your room and head towards your living room, where your mattress and boxspring are temporarily being stored.

Joel tosses you a wink as he trails after your dad and you have to turn around and do the dishes so they don't see how flustered you are.

Your legs press together when you hear Joel's familiar grunts from somewhere behind you while he and your father struggle to drag your boxspring and then your mattress back in place. You're scrubbing a plate so fucking hard, you're surprised it doesn't shatter in your hands because you can't stop thinking about Joel and all the things you'd let him do to you if your dad wasn't there at that very moment.

"- you listenin' to me?" your father's voice says, causing you to jump and drop your sponge.

"Huh?"

You look at him, trying to ignore Joel next to him as he sheds his flannel and plucks loosely at the black t-shirt underneath, unsticking it from his sweaty chest. Fuck.

"Said Joel's gonna take the trash out and I'm gonna go grab that pizza. How long they say it'll take?"

You blink, blood singing hot in your veins when you mumble should be ready soon, then slowly dry your hands on a towel while your father and Joel collect the trash from your bed frame to take down to the dumpster.

Your apartment is silent for a few minutes after they disappear outside, the only sound coming from your heart pounding steadily in your ears as you wait for the door downstairs to open again.

When you hear the squeaky hinges open and close, then the dull, slow thud of his footsteps climbing the stairs, you remain stock still at your sink. Your fingernails press so hard into the stainless steel, it's a wonder they don't break. You can't bring yourself to turn around when he steps through the door, back into your kitchen. He told you it couldn't happen again and you agreed, but your phone calls the last two weeks spoke otherwise.

Without saying a word, Joel's on you in an instant, spinning you around and crashing his mouth hungrily against yours, driving away that little voice in the back of your head that keeps reminding you just this once, just this once.

You nearly crumple in his arms, feeble fingers digging into his shoulders for something to hold onto. His tongue slips past your lips with a groan and his hands grab eagerly at your blouse, bunching up the fabric in his fists, too fucking crazed and desperate to feel you again.

You whimper and he swallows it down, big hands releasing your shirt to travel lower and grab at your ass confined in your tight skirt. His skin is slightly damp with sweat and he tastes so good and feels so warm that it has you guiding his hand to the zipper of your skirt, encouraging him to pull it down.

"Can't," he mumbles before latching his mouth onto your neck.

You're impatient. You rake your fingers through his tousled hair and he sighs against your throat.

"Y'smell so good," he says, body pressing against yours, pinning your back to the edge of the counter.

"Joel-" you beg, but he keeps talking and his hands keep searching, grabbing for any part of you he can find.

"Been half hard since I got here," he admits, the confession sending a shock of arousal straight through your stomach and down to your core. "Got any idea what it was like for me to be in that room, movin' that mattress, knowin' you were fuckin' yourself right there last night?"

You gasp and claw at his hair, his neck - anywhere - while his mouth drags down the column of your throat. He ruts his hips against your stomach and you squeak when you're reminded of just how fucking big and thick he is. You drop your hand and rub your palm against the soft denim, over his impossibly hard cock caged in his jeans, and you whine in his ear. A wordless plea.

"Can't," he says again, but his hips buck forward, chasing your hand. He pulls you closer, his teeth scrape your jaw, and then his lips are seared over yours once again, smearing whatever remains of your lipstick.

Joel gasps and breaks the kiss but keeps his hips firmly pressed into your palm. He looks down at you like he wants to swallow you whole, his brown eyes so dark they look nearly black. One hand lifts to get tangled in your hair as you both fight every impulse to tear each other apart right then and there.

"I'll ... I'll call you tonight-" he begins, voice sounding pained. You shake your head. His grip in your hair tightens.

"No, Joel, please," you beg. Not another phone call. If you didn't know any better, you sound as if you're on the verge of tears. He sighs and presses his forehead to yours, his wet lips hovering over your mouth when you say, "it's not enough. I need you. Please, Joel, I can't-"

The door downstairs swings open and you fucking fly apart. Joel's eyes, which were just filled with lust, now are wild with panic.

"Go to your bedroom, y-your hair and-" he waves his hand in front of his mouth and you hurry away as he's wiping the lipstick from his own mouth, closing the door behind you. A few seconds later, the door to your kitchen opens and you hear your father's voice. With trembling hands, you unbutton your blouse and unzip your skirt so you can change into more comfortable clothes while you hear plates being pulled from your cupboard. Your dad is telling Joel some story about the customer ahead of him in line who was asking every question under the sun about the ingredients in their sauce as you pull on a soft pair of leggings and an oversized shirt.

Before joining them for dinner, you tug a brush through your hair, taming the mess Joel's hand left behind, and wipe off the lipstick from your mouth and cheek. Once you think you look somewhat normal, although internally you might be on the verge of a fucking stroke, you take a shaky breath in and step out of your bedroom.

"Hey! There she is!"

You give your dad a weak smile and head for the fridge, avoiding Joel's eye but feeling his stare burning into your back.

"Here, I have a few of these," you say, grabbing the cans of beer and putting them on the table. "Some friend left them behind, I think."

Joel is sitting at your small, round kitchen table next to your father with an untouched piece of pizza on his plate. Meanwhile, your dad is nearly halfway through his first slice. You pull a glass from your cupboard and fill it at the sink, using the opportunity to take deep breaths and calm your nerves.

Unfortunately, when you turn around, Joel locks eyes with you and you feel as though you may melt into the floor. His fists clench tight on the table and you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it, but his chest rises quicker than usual and there's a pink tint to his cheeks.

You sink into the chair across from him and shakily pick a piece of pizza from the box. You're hungry but you're so fucking turned on, it's hard to think about anything else. The pull between your legs is so uncomfortable, it has you shifting your weight in your seat while you take a few small bites of food. Joel must be feeling similarly because out of the corner of your eye, you finally see him slowly unfurl a fist and pick up his pizza.

"You seein' someone?"

Your eyes snap up to your father and you freeze. "What?" you ask breathlessly.

He points to the beers before grabbing one and cracking it open.

"You said a friend left 'em. You seein' someone new?"

Your throat closes up. You shake your head and take a bite of pizza so you can avoid elaborating. Across from you, Joel stiffens but remains silent. Your dad chuckles and he elbows Joel, snapping him out of his trance.

"'Member when we'd sit on the porch, waitin' for her dates to bring her home?"

"That only happened, like, twice," you mumble.

"Boys need'ta learn early on not to mess 'round and have some manners. Kept 'em in line," your dad continues, grabbing another piece of pizza. "Say the word and I can do it again-"

"How about you, Dad?" you ask, cutting him off. You can practically feel the tension radiating off Joel's shoulders from the direction the conversation was heading, and you need to put a stop to it. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The distraction is sufficient. Your dad launches into a ten minute monologue about his dry dating life while you and Joel do your best to act interested. The last fucking thing you want is for your dad to scare Joel off by reminding him of his fierce, protective side. Like he isn't already aware.

But perhaps you were too late because after they both finish eating and say their goodbyes, Joel can't look you in the eye. Something tells you that it isn't because he's trying to hide his attraction for you. You can't put your finger on it. Something about his body language and energy just seem... off. And then sure enough, hours later when you are distracting yourself with television after sending Joel multiple unanswered texts, you think your suspicion is correct.

---

A loud pounding on your door wakes you from a deep sleep. You startle awake with your heart in your throat. Your television is still on, forgotten, just like your phone buried somewhere in your sheets. You stumble out of bed after another knock that threatens to bring down the entire building and squint at the microwave to check the time.

Just past two in the morning. What the fuck?

You are about to go downstairs when logic prevails and you go to your window, instead.

The only car on the street is Joel's truck, right in front of your building.

Shit.

You fucking race to your bathroom and gargle with mouthwash for about three seconds. As you are hurrying down the stairs, you comb your fingers through your hair, hoping you look decent enough but knowing deep down it wouldn't really matter.

When you open the door, a shiver shoots down your spine.

"Joel," you barely get out before his crowding you, pushing you up against your stairs, mouth already devouring yours as he kicks the door shut behind him.

You curse, but it's muffled. His mouth is hard and insistent against yours, almost like he's angry, but not at you. His hands scan your body, over your pajamas, your face, your exposed skin, while his tongue explores your mouth. It's familiar now, for you both, under the cover of night once again, where your secret can remain safe.

It's a miracle you make it up the stairs without falling. You don't remember his mouth or hands ever leaving you as you stumble through your kitchen and into your room.

The television still plays in your otherwise dark room. Flickering lights dance across the walls, soft syndicated laughter is registered in the back of your brain. He untangles one hand from your hair and the other he pulls from underneath your shirt, then he takes a step back. You both drag in air, panting and studying each other's faces. His cheeks look flushed and your skin feels just as hot. Hair equally wild. The energy between you is palpable, crackling like electricity.

"Thought you got scared off," you say, breaking the silence. He blinks.

"Why?"

You shrug, already wishing you had waited til later to bring this up.

"You seemed weird when you left."

His throat bobs and he shakes his head, then his gaze shifts to your chest before finding your eyes again.

"Just needed to get the hell outta here 'fore he noticed somethin' was goin' on."

You nod slowly. Oh. So maybe you're a little paranoid. It doesn't explain the unanswered texts, but you don't feel much like talking anymore.

You dip down, crawling backwards onto your bed and whisper his name, dropping your head onto your pillows with a sigh, then fight back a smile at the greedy way his eyes rake up and down your body.

"Come here," you say quietly. You reach your arms out and wiggle your fingers. His dark eyes lock with yours and you grin.

His hands fall to his belt and warmth pools low in your stomach, deep between your legs. You squirm impatiently when he slowly slides the leather through his belt loops.

"Just..." he begins, pausing when you sit up to toss your shirt over your head, leaving your chest bare to him. He swallows hard and continues. "Just one more time."

You would have agreed to anything in that moment, so you nod while he pushes his jeans down to the floor before lowering himself to your bed. He crawls over you and your legs spread so his hips can settle there, pressing against your aching cunt. His arms tuck underneath your shoulders and just the weight of him pressing against your chest and pushing your legs apart is so fucking exquisite that it has your own hips circling for friction. You moan into his mouth when his lips find yours again and everything feels right, so fucking right, that tears burn the back of your eyes.

"Bad girl," he murmurs against your lips. Your fingers card through his thick, wavy hair and you smile. "Textin' me when I'm out with your old man. Coulda got me killed."

"You - what?" you breathe, tipping your head back so he could leave wet, open mouthed kisses along your throat. He sucks a little mark over your pulse point and then his lips find yours again before answering.

"Went out for a few beers after we left," he says while tilting his head to the opposite side. His tongue glides back inside your mouth and you taste it now, the remnants of the drinks he had earlier. Your fingers in his hair tighten. Relief washes over you.

You decide to ignore how obviously desperate you are for Joel's attention - something you know is a bad sign. Instead, you sigh and rut your hips upwards a little harder, pulling a low groan from his throat.

"Did you have fun?" you ask with a teasing grin. He picks up on it and growls, then palms your hip, squeezing the soft skin there, pulling you closer.

"Not as much fun as I'm havin' now."

You giggle when he pinches you and you try to squirm away, but you're still pinned helplessly underneath his broad frame.

Joel laughs, too, before leaving a trail of gentle kisses across your chest. It feels so loving and sweet that it has your breath catching in your throat even before his mouth latches onto your breast, tongue teasing your nipple with a satisfied hum before doing the same to the other.

"I missed you," you whisper boldly, pulse thrumming fast in your throat as you wait for his response. Is it too much? Maybe. But it's true.

"Was just here a few hours ago," he says. You roll your eyes.

"Not what I meant."

Joel sighs and rests the side of his head against your chest. You're absolutely certain he can hear how fast your heart is racing. He wraps his arms around you a little tighter when he admits, "Me, too."

And it's enough, for now, to know he craved you the same way you craved him.

His hand skids down your bare side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until one finger hooks around the lace edge of your panties and gives them a playful tug. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and lift your hips so he can slide them and your shorts down your legs.

You become very aware you are stark naked underneath Joel Miller for the very first time while he somehow still has on his t-shirt and boxers. He pushes off the mattress and looks down to admire you all sprawled out for him and you feel a rush of embarrassment. That is, until he says-

"So fuckin' beautiful."

His voice is soft and filled with so much awe that you just might believe him. His gaze skims every inch of your exposed skin: your arms, your waist, your thighs. Like he's trying to memorize every little thing he sees.

"I want you," you gasp when his fingers delicately graze the inside of you leg. His deep brown eyes lift and he smirks when his fingers trail closer and closer to where you need him most.

"Yeah?" he asks. His voice sounds deeper and your legs begin to shake. His fingertips brush over your slit and you gasp again, body writhing on your bed - the bed he helped fucking build. You nod and lift your hips.

"Please."

Joel tuts and pushes one thick finger through your folds. He circles over your entrance but doesn't go any further. He just slowly slips his finger through your pussy, dragging it up, up, up until he's pressing down on your clit and you're moaning his name with your eyes squeezed shut.

"This what you want?" he breathes, arousal evident in his voice. You nod enthusiastically, chest heaving as he continues his slow, torturous route. Then he removes his finger and you whine in protest until your eyes reopen. He slips his finger into his mouth with a quiet groan, eyelids fluttering and you imagine his tongue swirling around, collecting your slick and swallowing it down.

You're afraid you may go insane if he doesn't fuck you soon.

"Joel-"

"I gotta- fuck," he moans before dropping onto his hands and settling his shoulders between your thighs. He pushes open your legs, spreading you wide so he can admire your glistening cunt up close. His teeth nip your inner thigh but his eyes remain glued to your center. "I gotta taste you, darlin'," he says, and it's amusing how he actually sounds filled with regret when he says it. You would have laughed if his lips didn't suction around your pussy a second later, tongue plunging through your folds just to flatten and circle your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to make your back arch off the mattress.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan his name. Your body is so wound tight, not only from earlier when he had you pinned against your kitchen counter with your father just downstairs, but from weeks without his touch.

"Can't believe how good this tight little pussy takes my cock," he mumbles, face buried between your legs, eyes closed.

Your thighs tremble underneath his hands, which are splayed wide, thumbs parting your lips to make way for his tongue. One of your hands snakes down to get lost in his messy hair, the other grips the sheets for dear life while Joel eats at your center with more enthusiasm than anyone else who has been in his position. By a mile.

His beard burns the inside of your thighs and in the back of your mind, you hope you'll still feel it in the morning. You're so desperate for any reminder of the way he tears you apart that you'll gladly embrace the discomfort.

Every time his warm tongue glides through your folds, he moans. Your face feels like it's on fire when you grind your hips onto his mouth, gasping and dragging in air like you're drowning. He seems to love it. Every roll of your hips causes him to squeeze the meat of your thighs, and when you whimper his name, all rough and needy, his tongue works even faster. He licks and sucks and moans into your cunt, and when he slides two thick fingers inside of you with ease, you curse and dig your heel into his back.

"Fuck," he whispers when he pulls his face away to catch his breath. He stares down at his fingers buried deep, watching the way you stretch for him, suck him in. His eyes go dark when a thick drop of your arousal slips down his fingers, pooling between his knuckles.

"Wish you could see the way this perfect pussy opens up f'me," he murmurs, still entranced.

You don't even think. Your mind is a hazy blur, heart thrashing in your chest at the way he holds you right on the brink of your release. So, you say, "Show me," and point to the Polaroid next to your bed.

Joel's eyes flicker, following your hand, and he grins.

You had been tinkering with it the past few days, trying to fix the blue marks that were showing up on all your photos. After cleaning the rollers and checking the expiration date on the film, you figured out a film shield was the answer and you had been taking test shots in your room since it had the best lighting.

Could he have taken pictures with his phone? Sure. But something about the way he handled the clunky camera with one hand was so fucking hot, you're eternally grateful you abandoned it on your end table.

He takes one picture, then two. The familiar whir of the rollers fills the air, drowning out the television behind him, then the photographs spit out, one at a time. You writhe a little when his attention gets drawn to the pictures and his hand between your legs stall. He waits about thirty seconds for them to develop, then without even showing them to you, he growls and drops them into the sheets. His mouth suctions over your pussy again and you gasp. He sucks and flicks his tongue over your clit while his hand pumps steadily into you, curling his fingers, making you nearly scream if it isn't for how fast and hard you're breathing.

"Joel-" you gasp, "Joel, I'm - I'm gonna -"

You struggle to finish your sentence but it doesn't matter. He knows. Joel hums between your thighs and works faster, devouring your cunt and dragging your orgasm out of you. Your body tenses and you cry out his name, but he doesn't let up. Not until your legs clamp the sides of his head does he remove his fingers to drink down every drop of your release, then he finally lets his jaw relax.

You're seeing stars. You have to be covered in sweat and you probably look insane, with your hair and eyes all wild while you lay there, completely fucked out.

He must enjoy it, though, because next thing you know he's covering you with his body once again. His lips are on yours and all you can taste and smell is you, but you aren't repulsed. In fact, you find you really fucking like it. When it's on him, when your taste and scent is mixed with Joel's, it's intoxicating.

"Shoulda done that last time," he rasps. He leans back to sit on his knees and tugs off his shirt, letting it fall somewhere on your floor. You blink and try to admire his bare chest while he's kicking his boxers off, but it's hard to focus. Then, just as fast as he sat up, he's back on you once again. His breath skips when he glides the tip of his cock through your folds, then rests against your opening. You're still struggling to come back to earth, body lax and sated and so fucking warm underneath him. He groans brokenly into your neck when he presses inside, reveling in how easily you welcome his cock now that he already worked you open with his mouth and fingers.

You make a soft noise and circle your arms loosely around his neck. There's no need to go as slowly as last time. You're so fucking soaked, you're more than ready for him, but he still takes his time. He holds your hip steady with one hand as he feeds you his cock, inch by inch, parting your walls and sighing against your dewy skin.

"Shit," he groans. His teeth pinch your throat when he bottoms out and you gasp. "This what you want? Needed my cock that bad?"

"Yes," you whimper, "Christ, Joel - yes."

He drags himself out and plunges back inside you with a rough grunt. Your legs fall open wider, giving yourself up to him entirely.

His beard is scratchy and it tickles your skin, making you shiver when his mouth traces the edge of your jaw. He fucks you slow and deep, like he wants to make it last, like he wants you to remember. Your lips find his shoulder and you leave a path of open mouthed kisses across his tanned skin. And when your tongue darts out to taste him properly, he groans and rolls his hips deeper.

It's perfect and intense and it's everything you could ever want.

"Jesus, look at you," he says. But you look up at him, instead. He looks how you feel - needy, wrecked, and desperate. Then his eyes fall between your bodies, where his cock slides in and out of you, coated in your arousal, and you groan when you see what he sees.

Look at us, you want to say, but you bite the words back. It feels like it's too much. But you think it. How could you not, when you seem to fit together so perfectly?

With his voice smooth and soft as velvet, he says, "Dirty girl... thinkin' 'bout me fuckin' you like this with your daddy in the room."

Your cheeks burn and you try to swallow, but your throat is too dry. When you meet his gaze, he looks different. He's worked up and his eyes are pitch black. His hips start to pound into you faster.

Your throat tightens.

"I- fuck," you choke out when he brushes up against a particularly sensitive spot. You try again. "Y-you're the one who kissed me whe-"

Joel chuckles and shakes his head, dark curls falling loose across his forehead.

"I saw the way you were lookin' at me 'fore all that," he goads, then leans down to nip at your earlobe before adding, "When we were puttin' together the bed. Tell me what you were thinkin' 'bout."

You whine and pitch your head back into your pillow. You can already feel your hips ache from how fast and hard he's fucking into you now. It has your breath stuttering and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

When you take too long to respond, his mouth suctions over your breast. His teeth leave a sharp bite on your nipple and you yelp.

"Tell me," he says again. You shudder, breath too shallow and quick to answer, so you grab one of his arms and lift it above your head. You press his hand around the padded headboard and he gets it. The smirk he gives you is deadly when plants his other hand into the mattress for leverage.

Your legs wrap around his waist and he starts to slam into you. Each thrust knocks the air from your lungs. He pushes you further and further up the bed until the top of your head hits the headboard. Joel sees it and he drops to his elbow. The hand that was pushing into the mattress is now cupping the top of your head and you think you might implode from the way his arm curls protectively around you while the other is gripping your headboard so tight, you can see the tendons twitching in his wrist.

"Like this?" he grits out. You nod, mouth agape and brows furrowed. Tears spring to your eyes as you teeter on the edge. He sees them and kisses them away when they fall. Ultimately, it's the hours and hours of pent up frustration that have you coming so hard, your vision goes white. But it's the combination of how rough he's fucking you and how sweet he's holding and kissing you that has your cunt pulsing around his cock, dragging out your orgasm for what feels like an eternity.

"Fuck," he gasps. His fingers tighten around the crown of your head and you feel his bicep flex along the side of your face. "W-where? Where, baby?"

His voice sounds urgent but you still take a second to soak in the word baby before murmuring inside, just like before.

He doesn't hesitate. He comes a moment later, yanking on your headboard for support with a loud groan. You hear it rattle and you plant kisses on the underside of his jaw, hoping to melt away some of the tension being held there.

His hips flex forward erratically, each push paired with a heavy grunt until he finally stills. His hand drops from the headboard and his face tucks into the crook of your neck.

You feel his breath fanning across your sweat soaked skin and you close your eyes. There's no rush, this time. There's no risk. So you lay there and catch your breath with Joel's massive body pinning you into the mattress and heavy cock softening inside you.

"Goddamn," he murmurs in between light kisses to your collarbone. You hum and soothingly run your palms up and down his back with your eyes closed. He shivers when your nails graze his spine and he holds you a little tighter. You swear you could fall asleep, just like that.

Joel begrudgingly lifts himself up to slide out from between your legs. His eyes flicker with something dark when he sees his seed leaking out of your spent cunt, but he blinks it away and rolls onto his back with a tired groan.

"Just need a second and I'll get goin'," he assures you. His forearm is thrown over his closed eyes and you take the opportunity to study his broad chest and soft belly in the glow from your television. God, he's so handsome. How did you not see it before?

"Why don't you stay?" you ask, voice raspy and thick. He peeks at you in surprise and drops his arm to his side.

"Yeah?"

You remember his comment last time, about his house feeling lonely, and it pulls at your heart. "Yeah," you say, shifting onto your side and wrapping an arm around his middle. You nuzzle into his chest and he drapes an arm around your shoulders.

"Okay," he says softly. "But next time, we're figurin' out a way f'you to stay at mine. Want you wrapped up in my bed, feedin' you breakfast."

"Next time?" you repeat, unable to keep the eagerness from your voice. "What happened to just this once?"

The hand drawing aimless circles on your arm stills.

"It... I - uh -"

You lift your chin and shoot him a sly smirk.

He rolls his eyes but you see the corners of his mouth twitch.

"Just go to sleep," he mutters. He sounds annoyed but you know better.

You close your eyes with a smile and his hand resumes stroking your arm.

Deep down, you know what you're doing is so much more complicated than what you're willing to admit within your four walls. Maybe you'll figure it out, maybe you won't. But neither of you are willing to think about that tonight. Because tonight, away from familiar, judgmental eyes, you're just two people seeking comfort in each other.

And it's enough.

[sugarcoated-lame]

Easy Like Sunday Morning | Joel Miller x Reader

pre-outbreak joel x reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors dni!

Summary: You wake up before Joel and decide you want to take care of him.

or

giving 2003 pre-outbreak Joel some head on a sleepy Sunday morning

a/n: i was inspired by this post by the amazing @mrsmando 🤍 and her delicious joel thoughts that never fail to have me spiraling and swooning 🫠 if i had a nickel for every time i’ve written a joel fic about someone being woken up with some head, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice (sorry i had to lmfaoo). also this is probably the quickest thing i’ve ever written, so i’m sorry if it sucks!

wc: 2.8k

content warnings: no outbreak/pre-outbreak 2003 joel, kricket sucks at writing summaries we know this, smut, oral (m receiving), slightly rough oral, hair pulling, no physical description of reader except that her hair is long enough for joel to pull, pet names (darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl), no use of y/n, joel miller has a big dick because i said so, established relationship, somno (kinda? joel is like not really awake at the beginning of the smut), this is basically just smut :)

joel masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

⋆ . ˚ ✩ comments, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated! ⋆ . ˚ ✩

Lazy Sunday mornings have become your favorite in the weeks since you moved in with Joel.

Nowhere to be, neither one of you has to get up before the sun and go to work. No rushing around to make sure Sarah gets to school on time — just sleep. It’s the one day a week both you and Joel get a chance to sleep in, to wake naturally without the shrill ringing of alarms, and just relish being wrapped up in the comfort of each other’s presence.

Eyes still shut as you begin to stir, your mind is only just waking up and the first thing you feel is warmth.

Warmth of the bright, golden Texas sun shining through Joel’s — well, now your — bedroom window and behind your closed lids. Warmth from the plush, gray comforter draped just over your calves, where it had been kicked down in the night in an attempt to curb the relentless, sticky summer heat.

You find yourself cocooned by the furnace-like warmth that is Joel as he lies on his back beside you — a warmth that would probably be overwhelming if it wasn’t such a comfort to you.

Your cheek is pressed to his broad chest, the steady beating of his heart a calming rhythm beneath your ear. Your torso flush against his side, you have an arm wrapped snug around his middle, and a leg draped over both of his. You and Joel both lay almost bare, each clothed in nothing but your underwear after the previous night’s activities — hot skin on hot skin.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open to the bright, morning light, you look up to find Joel still fast asleep and take a moment to admire the peaceful expression on his handsome face.

Long lashes fanning over his cheeks, his brows free of the worried crease that often rests between them, plush pink lips parted as he lets out quiet little snores, his strong chest slowly rising and falling, up and down beneath your cheek with each calming breath. Tanned skin warm and glistening with a light sheen of sweat, dark chocolate locks especially curly due to the humid Texas heat, a few sweaty strands clinging to his forehead.

Seeing Joel laid out like this only reminds you of the way he looked last night — all flushed beneath you, cheeks pink, head thrown back and brown eyes clenched shut in bliss as you hovered above him. Pulling quiet, deep grunts from his parted lips as you rode him, his big hands on your hips, guiding your movements as you lifted yourself up and down on his cock.

The reminder of just how full you felt with him inside you — of how goddamn good he makes you feel — has dampness forming beneath the thin fabric of your panties, thighs attempting to clench shut in search of friction to quell the wave of slick that’s building between your legs, though they’re unable to do so with Joel’s thick thigh slotted between them.

And, though you know Joel is still resting so peacefully beside you, and that you should probably let him sleep in for once, you can’t help it when you feel the sudden and urgent need to kiss him. To feel your lips on his skin.

These lazy Sunday mornings with Joel are your favorite because you know he’s always so busy, always working hard, always so stressed. And, that despite it all, he always takes such good care of you.

So, you want to take this opportunity, when he doesn’t have to be up for work, or take Sarah to school — and you know it’s a couple hours before she’ll be waking up — and you want to do something nice for him. Take care of Joel for once. To make him feel good.

Lifting your head from Joel’s chest, you press your lips to where your cheek had just been. Beginning at his pec, and over his heart, tasting the salt of his sweat-damp skin as you work your way up the broad plane of his chest, dotting feather-light kisses up to the juncture of where his shoulder meets his neck.

You gently untangle yourself from his side, and Joel begins to stir just slightly as you softly mouth along the column of his throat and move to hover over him, your thighs straddling his hips and hands on the mattress on either side of him to hold yourself up.

He’s still mostly asleep, but you can already feel through the layers of both of your underwear that he’s beginning to harden beneath you, his body waking up faster than his brain, always so responsive to your touch.

You continue to kiss across Joel’s strong jaw, over the patchy hair that tickles your lips, dotting a trail of sweet kisses up his cheek and to the tip of his sharp nose, then back down to his mustache and over the corner of his lips.

He stirs again when your lush lips press against his own just once, not quite awake enough to kiss back just yet, but this time a soft hum of approval leaves him at the pleasant feeling.

With one more peck to his soft lips, you begin your descent back down Joel’s body, leaving behind another smattering of kisses in your wake.

From his Adam’s apple to the rounded bone of his shoulder, then back down to his chest. You know he’s a bit more awake when you feel him begin to stir again — his strong body shifting ever so slightly beneath yours, dick twitching against your core underneath the layers of cloth as you place a barely-there kiss to each of his nipples. Joel lets out a sleepy groan as your tongue darts out to lick at the sensitive skin before continuing on your way.

Shifting your body lower on the bed, your kisses become a bit more feverish, less soft as you work your way down Joel’s torso. Your hunger for him only growing as you get closer and closer to the bulge in his boxers, spurred on by the breathy little grunts and groans leaving his parted lips as his mind begins to catch up to the pleasure that his body is feeling.

Joel lets out a content sigh, head still resting on his pillow, eyes still shut and still about half asleep. Unsure if he’s dreaming when he feels you press a firm kiss to the skin just above his navel.

He’s quickly pulled out of that dream-like state, though — breath catching in his throat, jolting beneath you as your warm tongue darts out lick a broad stripe over his soft belly.

You can’t help but grin as you look up to see his face, those pretty brown eyes now open but still bleary with sleep, pillowy lips parted in a gasp, sweaty curls falling over his forehead as he shifts his focus towards you.

“Morning, baby.” You whisper into the quiet of your bedroom, your chin resting on Joel’s tummy as you gaze up at him sweetly.

Your smile only grows when he cards a hand over his tired face, groaning out a tired ‘fuck’.

Now that he’s awake — just barely — you press your lips to his belly one last time before heading lower. Fitting yourself between Joel’s thick thighs, you kiss along the fine hairs of his happy trail, then his hip bones, and you know he’s fully hard when your hands glide up his thighs to palm him over his black boxers.

Joel releases a throaty groan as you stroke him through the soft fabric, one of his large hands coming up to the side of your head. Calloused pads of his fingers running gently through your bed-mussed hair. “Please, darlin’.”

The use of the pet name combined with Joel’s sleepy, Texan morning voice actually makes you whimper, clenching your thighs as a new gush of arousal floods between them. Needy for him as your fingers move to his waistband, gingerly but quickly pulling down the black, cotton fabric and freeing his impressive length.

A quiet, raspy moan escapes Joel’s lips as you spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock. He’s long and thick and heavy in your hand, your fingers hardly able to wrap around the girth of him, his tip an angry red and leaking pretty pearls of precum.

He lets out a quiet hiss as you begin to stroke up from the base, leaning down to kiss along his tip before kitten-licking at the slit, a pleased hum leaving you at the salty, heady taste of his arousal. Joel’s mind is still a bit hazy with sleep, but he swears he’s died and gone to heaven when you lick a hot stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue laving over the thick vein that runs along his shaft.

The hand in your hair tightens its grip when you oh-so-delicately take Joel into your mouth, emitting a pleased hum from you as you gently suckle on his tip. The vibration sends a jolt up his spine, cock twitching in your grasp as you continue to stroke up and down his length with increasing ease as your spits begins to coat his skin. Delicate fingers wrapped tight around him moving up and down to meet your lips as your tongue swirls around the bulbous head.

You take your time, enjoying Joel’s quiet, raspy moans, the whispered curses, and shallow breaths all falling from his lips as you slowly take him deeper and deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth.

When you’re about halfway down his length, you suck in your cheeks, lips tightening around him as you begin to suck with more fervor and Joel has to bite back a desperate moan as you bob up and down his length. His hips buck up of their own volition — the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him is just too good — the two of you groaning in unison as the movement sends his cock further between your lips, the tip just grazing the back of your throat and causing you to gag around him.

“Fuck, m’sorry, baby.” Joel drawls, gently smoothing a hand over the crown of your head. He lifts you up his length just a little bit, just enough to gather your bearings.

You release him from your mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva still connects the two of you between his swollen, red tip and your now swollen lips, and Joel thinks he’s a goner when you wrap a hand tight around his shaft, leaning back in to kitten-lick at his slit.

You smear delicate kisses all along his tip, then up and down every inch of his length, all the while gazing up at him with doe eyes before you bring him between your spit-slicked lips once again.

“So good for me. Always so good for me.”

His morning voice is deep — deeper than normal — and it has your eyes rolling back into your head as you whimper around him, tears collecting at your lash line from having just taken him so deep so abruptly. Nodding your head as much as you can with his cock still in your mouth, you let Joel know that you’re okay to keep going.

You want to please him. He deserves this. You want to make him feel good.

You know that Joel is getting close from the way he’s fighting himself to not buck his hips and fuck up into your mouth, the hand that’s not in your hair clinging to the gray sheets like a lifeline. His chest rapidly rising and falling as he tries his hardest to keep at least somewhat quiet — he knows that his daughter is sleeping right down the hall — biting back gravely grunts and groans that you so wish you could hear at full volume, his cock twitching against your tongue with every little move you make.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you decide to take him as deep as you can go. Swallowing around him as his tip reaches into the depths of your throat, those tears are now spilling freely from your eyes as the coarse hairs at his base tickle your nose.

You suction your cheeks taut and lick along the underside of his shaft, the wet sounds of your sucking growing sloppy, Joel’s pubic hairs now shiny with your spit and his fingers are now pulling hard at your hair, the slight sting in your scalp a pleasurable one and only spurring you on.

A particularly harsh suck has Joel throwing his head back onto his pillow, sweaty curls falling like a halo around his pleasure-wrought features. Whiskey colored eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, nose scrunched, and lips parted in a quiet, guttural groan that lingers in the warm, sticky summer atmosphere of your shared bedroom.

“I’m— fuck!” He damn near whimpers when your free hands reaches out to caress his heavy balls, squeezing getnly as you continue to arduously suck and stroke his length, your hand and mouth working in tandem and meeting in the middle. “I’m close, sweetheart.”

You moan hungrily around him, the vibrations nearly sending Joel over the edge, the hand on your head now pushing you down onto his cock without hesitation – he knows you can take it. Hips thrusting up and chasing the velvety, wet warmth of your throat as you gag on him once more, drool spilling out the corners of your mouth all around him, the wet, sucking sounds filling the room obscene.

Joel practically growls when he feels your nails dig into the meat of his thigh, his chin dropping to his chest and he looks down to find you gazing back at him. Your cheeks hollowed, lips stretched around his aching cock, taking all of him like the good girl he knows you are. Your pretty, tear-filled eyes gazing up at him with so much love, and that’s what is his undoing.

You feel it when Joel’s whole body tenses beneath you, fireworks shooting up his spine as he starts to cum with a heavy groan that was lodged deep in his throat. You can’t help but moan around him as he fills your mouth, painting your throat with the hot, salty ropes of his release.

He mutters a string of broken moans, a mixture of curses and grunts of your name as you work him through it. The grip Joel has on your hair starts to lighten up — though, only a bit — but it’s enough for you to pull back on his length a bit to allow your hand to join your mouth in its ministrations. Slowly, but firmly, stroking him and sucking at his cock until you’re sure you’ve swallowed down every drop he has to give you, his stomach practically caving in by the time you’re done with him.

Until he’s reduced to shallow pants and hushed whimpers, Joel’s entire body shuddering as your lips lay one last kiss to his sensitive tip, and he drops an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the now overwhelming light as he takes a few moments to catch his breath.

You let Joel take all the time he needs to recover, carefully tucking his softening length back into his black boxers.

It’s a few minutes before Joel uncovers his eyes, slowly blinking to adjust the the increasing brightness of the hot summer sun shining into the bedroom, and he’d swear you’re an angel, still nestled between his thighs. You’re busy littering the soft, tanned skin of his thighs and his belly in sweet little kisses and love bites when that deep, sleepy morning voices speaks up again.

“Well good mornin’ to you too, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, two strong arms are pulling you up the bed — and up Joel’s body, a firm hand on the nape of your neck pulling you in so he can smash his lips to your puffy ones in a longing, appreciative kiss.

His deft hands then slide down your hips to grab your ass, squeezing at the soft flesh with a groan against your lips, before Joel is flipping the two of you over so he’s now the one hovering over you. A little yelp escapes you, but is quickly transformed into a stifled moan as his lips begin kissing a path down your body, now fully awake and more than ready to return the favor.

⋆ . ˚ ✩

⋆ . ˚ ✩

Thank you for reading!! x

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Santa Baby

pairing: pedro pascal x f! popstar girlfriend

The stage was bathed in warm, festive light as snowflakes made of glitter descended from the rafters. The audience buzzed with excitement, eagerly awaiting the star of the night. Y/N’s highly anticipated Christmas special was live, showcasing her new holiday album. Fans worldwide tuned in to witness her performance, and among them was her proudest supporter her boyfriend-turned-fiancé, Pedro Pascal, seated in the front row.

Y/N’s voice soared through classic carols and original songs, each note wrapping the room in holiday magic. Dressed in a red velvet gown that shimmered under the lights, she was the picture of festive elegance. Her diamond necklace sparkled with every turn, but her smile was the true showstopper. Pedro leaned forward in his seat, utterly entranced, his warm brown eyes never leaving her.

Then came the moment that would be talked about for weeks. The band struck up the jazzy, slinky notes of Santa Baby, and the audience erupted into cheers. The curtains parted to reveal Y/N in a dazzling new outfit: a fitted red velvet bodice trimmed with soft white fur, paired with thigh-high boots and a sparkling Santa hat. She strutted across the stage, microphone in hand, her playful grin promising something extraordinary.

Pedro chuckled as she made eye contact with him, her flirty energy aimed directly his way. He shook his head, already knowing she was about to steal the show.

Her sultry voice filled the air:

Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me…

The crowd swayed along, their energy building with every lyric. Y/N’s performance was captivating, her charm impossible to resist. Pedro’s grin grew wider as she playfully gestured toward him during the bridge:

Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

The audience roared with laughter and applause at her antics. Pedro, his face beaming with pride, clapped along, his eyes shining with admiration. But then, the atmosphere shifted as she reached the iconic line:

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing a ring…

Y/N paused dramatically, her voice trailing off as she raised her left hand. The spotlight caught it, making the enormous diamond engagement ring glitter like the North Star. Gasps and cheers erupted from the crowd, and Pedro froze, caught completely off guard. For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his face broke into the most radiant smile, his eyes glassy with emotion.

The cameras panned to him, capturing his reaction as he stood, clapping and laughing, his expression one of pure love and pride. Y/N flashed him a cheeky grin, finishing the line with a twist:

…and I don’t mean on the phone!

The theater exploded with applause. Y/N gave a playful twirl, blowing Pedro a kiss and mouthing, I love you. He returned it with a blown kiss of his own, shaking his head as if to say, You’re unbelievable.

By the time Y/N finished her set, the news had already gone viral. Social media lit up with clips of the performance, fans gushing over her flawless vocals and Pedro’s swooning reaction. Headlines blared:

“Pop Star Y/N Drops Engagement Bombshell During Christmas Special!”

“Pedro Pascal and Y/N Are Officially Engaged And It’s the Holiday Surprise We Didn’t Know We Needed!”

The next morning, Pedro sat on the couch, scrolling through endless memes of his smitten expression. Y/N curled up beside him under a cozy blanket, her engagement ring catching the morning light.

“You really couldn’t wait to tell the world, huh?” he teased, showing her a tweet comparing him to a love-struck Hallmark movie character.

“What can I say?” she replied with a smirk. “I like making a statement.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Good. I want everyone to know I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Her smile softened as she laced her fingers with his. “Merry Christmas, Pedro.”

“Merry Christmas, future Mrs. Pascal.”

That evening, as the snow continued to drift softly outside, they decided to celebrate their engagement with a romantic soak in the outdoor hot tub. The steam swirled into the crisp winter air, and the glow of the nearby fire pit illuminated the space, casting flickering shadows over the snow-covered patio.

Y/N stepped out onto the deck, wrapped in a plush robe, her cheeks rosy from the cold. Pedro was already in the tub, leaning back against the edge with his arms sprawled out, the muscles of his chest glistening from the rising steam. His dark eyes fixed on her with a heat that rivaled the bubbling water.

“Come on in, future Mrs. Pascal,” he teased, his voice low and inviting.

Y/N smirked, dropping the robe to reveal her figure in a deep red bikini that matched the festive mood of the weekend. Pedro’s breath hitched, his gaze dragging over her like she was the only thing in the world.

“You’re staring,” she said playfully as she descended into the water, the warmth enveloping her instantly.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, his voice rough as he pulled her closer the moment she settled in. “Look at you. You’re stunning.”

She slid onto his lap, her legs straddling his waist, and wrapped her arms around his neck. The contrast of the hot water and the cool winter air made her shiver slightly, but Pedro’s hands on her hips quickly warmed her up.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Pascal,” she murmured, trailing her fingers along his jawline.

Pedro chuckled, but it quickly turned into a groan when her lips brushed against his. The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, but quickly deepened as the tension between them simmered into something hotter than the water surrounding them. His hands roamed her back, sliding lower as he held her firmly against him.

“You know,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire, “you completely ruined me last night with that performance.”

“Good,” she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at him. “I wanted to drive you crazy.”

“Mission accomplished,” he said, his grip tightening as he kissed her again, his lips moving down to her neck, trailing over her collarbone.

“Pedro,” she breathed, her voice a mix of a plea and a tease.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his dark eyes blazing. “Say it again,” he murmured.

“Pedro,” she repeated, her hands framing his face as her lips brushed against his in the faintest of kisses.

“No,” he whispered, his smirk returning as his hands dipped into the water, pulling her closer. “The other thing. The thing I’ve been waiting to hear all day.”

She smiled, her heart thundering in her chest. “I love you, future husband.

Pedro’s laughter rumbled through the air before he captured her lips again, the kiss slow, sensual, and filled with the kind of love that made the world stand still. And as snowflakes melted on their heated skin, they knew this was the start of a holiday season they’d never forget.

[pedroscurls]

those three words (one-shot)

summary: since coming back home for good, you had been the one to keep him grounded. and tonight, javier finally feels the peace he's been craving for since leaving colombia... and it's all because of you.

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader content warnings: fluff, established relationship, fluff, happy ending, no use of y/n. word count: 918 a/n: ok - i have not written for javi p in so long, so i hope i did this character justice! once again, thank you for hosting your 22nd birthday writing challenge lex @princessanglophile (happy birthday and congrats on graduating!) i wanted to do a disney song with a pedro pascal character and got "javier peña with the song can you feel the love tonight?" hope y'all enjoy <3 song: can you feel the love tonight? by elton john

Javier can’t stop looking at you—there’s a warmth that sits in his belly and he feels his heart beat a little faster. You’re smiling, head slightly tilted back as a quiet giggle leaves your lips. You had been talking about your day at work, but if he’s being honest, he stopped listening a long time ago. 

Not because it wasn’t interesting. 

But because time always felt like it stood still whenever you were around. 

Javier had wanted to do something nice for you tonight, so he had gathered a handful of pillows and blankets and placed them on the bed of his truck. In the middle of it sat a bouquet of flowers, so when he picked you up for your scheduled date, he couldn’t help but feel pride in his veins at the look of surprise and excitement in your eyes. 

You always made him feel good—even in the beginning stages of your relationship, you had been so understanding of his need for space. You never pushed him further than he wanted, never tried to make him talk if he wasn’t willing… and the way you touched him, the way you looked at him—Javier never felt it before. 

Peace. 

Grounded. 

Safe. 

Loved. 

As his relationship with you progressed, so did his feelings. The more time he spent with you, the more he found himself falling more and more in love with you. When his nightmares kept him up at night, causing him to wake up in a thin sheet of sweat, you’d be right there—your hand lightly resting over his forearm, eyes filled with concern. You wouldn’t say it was okay, you wouldn’t say that you understand. You’d quietly say, “Come here, baby. I’ve got you,” and Javier would lie back down, allowing you to pull him into your arms. He’d rest his head against your chest, the sound of your heartbeat calming him down and lulling him back to sleep. 

But there was fear that settled in the pit of his stomach—he always thought you deserved better than him, that you deserved someone who didn’t have as much baggage and trauma as he did. So during one big argument that he caused, you had blurted out that you loved him. It left him speechless and made the fear just grow even bigger. Before he could even respond—the words at the tip of his tongue—you spoke for him, “I know you can’t say it and that’s okay, but I love you, Javi. There’s no one else.” He rushed to you in that moment and pulled you into his arms—the argument now a lost thought. 

And he knew that he loved you. Javier knew it the moment he laid eyes on you. 

“Hello? Earth to Javi,” you pull him out of his thoughts, a large smile lining your lips. “Did you even hear anything I was saying?”

He just nods, pulls you onto his lap as he leans against the back of his truck. “Of course, baby.” 

“Liar,” you laugh quietly, arms draping loosely over his shoulders. “You know you’re a bad liar.”

“I’m only a bad liar where you’re concerned.” He runs his hands along your thighs and around your hips, up your back and down. “I’m weak when I’m around you.”

“Such a charmer,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Thank you for tonight, baby.” 

Javier grins—the dimple on his right cheek appearing almost instantly. His hands move to rest on your hips, deep brown eyes staring deeply into your own. “I promised you dinner.”

“I thought you’d just take me out or cook me something, but this—I like this.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod. “Yeah,” you smile and lightly peck his lips. 

Javier maintains his smile once you pull away. You’re gazing into his eyes and everything around the two of you just seems to disappear. He brings one hand up to splay across the side of your neck, thumb brushing against your jawline. He sees the way you pull your lower lip between your teeth and he leans in closer, forehead resting against your own. 

The love that he feels for you—the ache in his chest whenever you’re not around, the butterflies he feels in the pit of his stomach when you are—it overpowers the fear that tries to remind him why this wouldn’t work. 

Because it does. 

It has.

And the way you’re looking at him now—like you know what he’s about to say, it makes his heart race even faster. As he parts his lips, those three words catch in his throat. You bring your hand to his cheek, thumb gently brushing across his lips. 

“I know,” you whisper quietly—so quiet that Javier might have missed it. “I know, baby.” 

His eyes soften and he gently purses his lips to place a gentle kiss on the pad of your thumb. Javier takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. 

“I love you,” he finally says—it comes out as a quiet whisper and all of a sudden, he feels peace and relief wash over him. 

Javier never thought that he’d ever get the chance to settle down—and he certainly wasn’t looking for a serious relationship either—but you had captured his attention from the moment he laid eyes on you. 

You feel like coming home after a long day—like safety, warmth, and knowing that he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he isn’t when he’s around you. You’re the peace and comfort that he’s always searched for. 

“I love you, baby,” Javier repeats. “It’s always been you.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[wayward-dreamer]

Keep Them On

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x F!Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You simply can't resist the sight of Joel in those glasses.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut: dirty talk, unspecified legal age gap, daddy kink (it just happened what can I say), dry humping (briefly), use of 'slut', pet names (darlin', sweetheart, baby), v fingering, hair pulling, handjob, Joel jerking it while fingering reader but she takes over, nipple play, pussy pronouns. Reader described with female anatomy, no use of y/n.

A/N: I was meant to start this right as that first photo of our man in glasses came out, but I only just got around to it. Which is probably good cause I got to use another one from the episode. This was inspired from @millersdoll's post, and spiralled from there. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this! <3 Follow @wayward-dreamers-library for notifications of when I post.

You sighed in relief as you stepped through the door, blocking out the cold as you slammed it shut. You leaned against the wood, instantly feeling the warmth of the house against your icy cheeks. Stripping yourself of your gloves, scarf and thick jacket you hung them up near the entrance, kicking your boots against the wall to dislodge the snow before you slipped them off. Even with being inside for just a few seconds, you felt yourself warming up. Thank God Joel and Tommy had gotten the heat working in this old place. You couldn’t wait to just sit on the couch and relax now that your patrol shift was over.

As you walked further into your home and under the arch into the living area, you stopped in your tracks as you took in the sight in front of you. The temperature in the room suddenly felt too much.

Joel sat at the dining table, a mess of tools in front of him as he was hunched over working on something, a pair of black framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He lifted his head when he heard you come in, pushing them up slightly and that was enough for you to squeeze your thighs together.

“That’s a good look for you,” you complemented, sauntering over to him.

“Oh, me lookin’ like an old man’s doin’ it for ya?” he asked, his Southern drawl accompanying his deep timbre.

“Definitely,” you muttered as you stood beside him.

You leaned down, lightly pecking his soft lips before teasing the bottom one with a nip of your teeth, a small groan escaping him at the sensation. He pulled away, giving you the best stern look he could muster. The man could never stay angry at you for long because you had a way of making him fold very quickly.

“Don’t start something now, darlin’,” he warned, as he leaned back in his chair. “I gotta meet Tommy, the fence line needs fixin’.”

You hummed as you rested your hands on his broad shoulders. “You can give it a few minutes, right?”

He settled his own larger, calloused hands over your hips as he raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to deal with him then when he comes lookin’ for me. Or be the one to face Maria’s wrath.”

A mischievous smirk pulled at your lips as you looked down at him, taking in the grey streaks through his dark curls, the salt and pepper flecks of his beard and those damn glasses. There was no way you were letting him leave before he did all the things that drove you crazy. Your legs moved to either side of his thighs, and slowly, teasingly, you straddled his lap. Your gaze locked with his as your hands moved up to cup his face, leaning into him without ever looking away. You felt a shiver run up your spine as his hands slipped under the hem of your green plaid shirt that once belonged to him, thumbs hooking lightly into the waistband of your jeans.

“She’s my best friend, I think it’ll be fine,” you whispered against his mouth. “And your brother can wait…”

Your lips meet Joel’s in a searing kiss, neither of you wasting any more time as your arms wrapped around him. You shifted against him, wanting to be as close as possible with clothes the only barrier between you. A small moan left you as his tongue danced with yours, his hands sliding over the skin of your lower back, exposed from where your shirt rode up. He grunted a little as your hips rolled against him once more, and then again, the denim of both of your jeans rubbing together and causing a delicious friction. His eyes fluttered open, suddenly blinded by the fog over his lenses which had him pulling away, despite your whine in protest. He reached up and pulled his glasses off, trying to drop them on the table behind you. Before he could, you moved your hands around your back and took them out of his hands, biting your lip as you looked deep into his eyes, placing the frames back on, your fingers curling behind his ears and slipping into his soft curls.

“Keep them on,” you demanded, lightly tugging at his hair. It was the only level of control he would let you get away with.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lips brushing over your chin. “Love it when my good girl gets a little dirty…”

A wanton moan escaped you as your lips fused with his again, the kiss rougher than it was before as you gripped the strands tight between your fingers. You could feel how quickly his cock became hard, straining against the denim as you continued to grind down on him, his hands aiding the sensual roll of your hips. You were equally worked up, feeling your inner walls clench around nothing and your arousal wet the lace of your panties. His lips moved down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin as he kept his hands on you, guiding your movements. A surprised gasp fell from your lips as he lifted his hips to meet yours, feeling the curve of his bulge right up against you, making you move a little harder.

“Look at you, darlin’,” he rasped, smirking up at you. “So desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

A breathy “yeah” was your only response along with the sinful rocking of your hips against him. You had barely even done anything yet, but between the glasses, his touch and his Southern drawl that always had you squirming, you knew he was going to wreck you. He held you tight, his mouth continuing its path down, a frustrated growl leaving him as your shirt remained in the way of his insatiable need for you. His glasses fogged up again, making him pull away briefly to allow them to clear up on their own. He took that time to gaze into your eyes, loving the way your mouth hung open in bliss from the pleasure he was bringing you.

“So desperate to feel daddy’s cock you have to grind on me like a little slut, huh?”

“Joel, p-please,” you whimpered, holding onto him as you kept shifting your covered mound over the tented denim. “I-I need-”

“Oh, I know what you need, sweetheart,” he said, a fierce glint in his brown eyes. “You’re just not gonna get it right now.”

“But—” you were about to protest but he cut you off.

“No buts, darlin’. You know I gotta be somewhere, that’s why I told you not to start anything,” he stated, one hand leaving your hip and making its way to the button of your jeans. “I’ll tell you what though, if you’re a real good girl and cum on daddy’s fingers right now… then you can have my cock tonight.”

He flicked the button open and pulled the zipper down, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he saw your eyes widen. His hand slid inside, a low moan escaping you as his fingers moved over the lace of your panties, now completely soaked from the intensity of your movement against him.

“So wet just from this, so needy just for me,” he husked, his nose nuzzling along your jaw.

The thick digits slipped past the band of your underwear and along the seam of your pussy, eliciting a high pitched cry from you. You threw your head back as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling the stretch of your walls around his fingers as he dipped two of them into your wet heat. No matter how many times you had found yourself in this very situation, it never failed to knock you off your axis. He leaned forward, his lips and tongue working down the column of your neck, making you grip onto his greying strands harder, pulling him closer if that were even possible.

“Joel,” you moaned, biting your lip as you lifted your head and looked down at him.

He huffed a small laugh as he watched you, knowing exactly what you wanted but continuing to withhold it from you. He was painfully hard by now, the fabric of his jeans pulled tight against his cock, but his only focus was you as his fingers slid back and forth inside you, feeling your arousal coating them. Your hips jerked forward as he maintained the steady rhythm, biting down on your lip as you felt him reaching that sweet spot inside you that only he had ever managed to find and successfully bring you complete euphoria. As they continued to move within you, you rocked against him and met the thrust of his fingers with your own.

“That’s it, darlin’, keep grinding down on me just like that,” he said, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ my fingers so well.”

“Joel, fuck… r-right there,” you cried out.

“Yeah? You love it when daddy takes care of you, don’t ya?” he asked, letting his beard scratch against your skin.

“Yeah, daddy,” you sighed, nodding in emphasis. “Love it so much.”

“She’s drippin’ for me, ain’t she, darlin’?” he smirked, unbothered by the fog on top of his lenses. “Squeezing around these fingers so tight, fuck.”

You glanced down and saw the way his hand began to shift faster, a sound somewhere between a squeal and a whimper leaving you as you gripped onto his shoulders. You leaned your forehead against his, your hands sliding down his jacket and reaching between your bodies to caress the bulge of his jeans.

“Daddy,” you purred, staring deep into his eyes. Your voice was low, dripping with the sweetness you know he couldn’t resist from you. “Let me take care of you, too…”

He hummed, almost as if he had considered it before he grasped your wrist and flicked it away. He wasn’t letting you get away with it this time. “Hands off, baby. You don’t get daddy’s cock until he says you can have it.”

“But–”

“There’s that ‘but’, again,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You wanna make those hands useful?”

You nodded eagerly in response, waiting for him to say something.

“Unbutton your shirt,” he ordered.

You leaned back slightly, keeping your eyes on his, framed by the rectangular lenses, as you pulled at the top button of your plaid shirt. You slowly unbuttoned all of them, letting the shirt fall open to reveal the black lace bra that covered the exquisite curve of your breast. His other hand drifted up the smooth skin of your stomach, gently cupping over one and pulling the lace down, his calloused thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple into a stiff peak. He sped up his fingers inside you, laying his forehead against your chest and leaving soft kisses along your skin, the gentleness a contrast to the way he was bringing you closer to your release. He shifted you against him, pulling you in tight and taking your hard nipple between his lips, his tongue moving in slow circles around the bud. Your own hands combed through his hair as you rested your temple on top of his head, not wanting him to move even an inch away from you.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured against you. “Wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.”

He could feel how close you were, your walls clenching around his fingers with every thrust, and he knew he needed his own release too if he was ever going to make it through the task ahead with his brother. You heard the clink of his belt opening, the zip on his jeans coming down quickly as he reached in and pulled out his hard, throbbing cock that was leaking with pre-cum. The sight of it had you mewling as you licked your lips, desperate to feel it in any way he would allow. He dropped some of his saliva into his large hand before he took hold of it, matching the hurried pace of his other hand as he slid it back and forth along the shaft.

With each second that passed, your moans grew louder, enough for you not to care if anyone outside heard, his hands sped up not only within your tight canal but over his pulsing girth, and your kisses became frenzied, rough and carnal as you both grew closer to that blissful end. Your hips faltered as they continued to grind against him, your own hands grasping for any part of him to hold onto, to anchor you down before you fell off the edge. You saw the frantic jerk of his hand around his cock and reached for him once more.

“Joel,” you whispered, your eyes locked on his. “Let me…”

He chuckled lightly, his gaze taking in all your beautiful features. “Just can’t control yourself, huh? Well, go on then, darlin’. Use that hand and give me a little preview of what that sweet pussy’s gonna do to this cock tonight.”

You practically squealed as your hand drifted down and took over from his, collecting some of your saliva in your mouth before letting it drop down over his length. You matched the same pace as before, your hand sliding back and forth, twisting over the head every time you moved up and pulling a wrecked groan from him. You smiled briefly before your eyes snapped closed, his fingers pressing into that spot with every thrust, causing your walls to contract around him.

“Fuck, I-I’m so close,” you moaned, your hand faltering around him slightly.

His voice cracked, low and rough as he was drawing closer to the edge too. “Let go, sweetheart, that’s it, cum on daddy’s fingers.”

Your lips met with his as the wave of pleasure that was coursing through you finally crashed, ripping your mouth away as you cried out his name, your wet heat gripped around him like a vice and coating his fingers in your juices. With a few more tugs of your hand against his cock, he gritted out a string of expletives through his teeth, spurts of his seed rolling over your skin. Harsh breaths and little moans were all you could hear as you both came down from the delirious high. Joel leaned back in his chair, taking in the sight of you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he saw you in the state he thought you were the most stunning. Completely and utterly ravished by him.

“You did so good, darlin’, so fucking beautiful when you cum like that” he muttered against your lips.

You hummed, unable to speak just yet as you leaned in, kissing him softly. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out of you, a sharp hiss coming from you as you felt the loss of him. His intense gaze through his glasses didn’t waver from you, as he slipped one finger into your mouth, smirking as you sucked and moaned at the taste of yourself. He pulled it out with a wet pop, taking the other one between his own lips and groaning as your arousal rolled over his tongue. He removed it and met you halfway in a searing kiss, both of you relishing the taste of you on each other’s lips.

Three sharp, sudden knocks at the door startled both of you to pull away.

“Joel, get a move on! Let’s go!”

“Fucking Tommy,” he muttered, shaking his head as he looked back at you with a lift of his brow. “See? Told ya he’d come knockin’.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully as you fixed your bra and buttoned yourself back up. “Duty calls.”

He reached for the cloth kept on the table and wiped your hand and the rest of his mess away before he tucked himself back in place, zipping up and adjusting his belt again. Despite his brother’s urgency, he made no attempt to move you off so he could get up.

“Two hours, tops,” he promised, his voice low and teasing. “Then I’m all yours, darlin’.”

Biting your lip, you pushed the black frames up the bridge of nose, pecking the tip of it before you slid off his lap, standing up on shaky legs. He stood up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a passionate kiss, one that held all the possibilities of what was to come later.

“I’m holding you to it.”

[myownwholewildworld]

here to enable your old man joel idea i am obsessed with it

hi anon........... PLEASE enable me, i need him so badly omfg 😫

soooooo... what are we thinking? yay or nay? 👀 asdfghjklñ

“You’re a bit starved for touch today, aren’tcha?” you nudged him, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. His cock twitched. “And whose fault is that?” he snapped back, nerves on edge. You simply giggled, shaking your head as your hand finally cupped his growing bulge. Gently kneaded him, massaging his aching balls over the fabric. Joel could feel the warmth of your touch seeping through the boxers, compelling him to grow bigger, harder, thicker. Your palm rubbed against the covered length of him, then dropped to his sacks again—and, irremediably, his hips bucked up, bare heels dug in the wooden floor. He thoroughly enjoyed it when you cupped his balls like that—lovingly, languidly, exquisitely, taking the weight off him so he could find some bliss. Seeing you so locked in on his pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips… It just added to your appeal, another reason to love you. Because he did—fuck, yes, he did, with all his fucking heart. Suddenly, you squeezed his balls a bit too harsh, holding your grip as if your life depended on him, kissing his jawline. The unexpected squash on his testicles forced a moan out of him—and something else. A firing pulse took a hold of him, surging down from his spine directly into his balls, and inevitably his cock throbbed with releasing strength. Joel couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to. He first felt the sticky warmth soaking his boxers, and his eyes quickly shot down to his lap. There was a wet, growing spot on his underwear. He’d fucking cummed in his boxers like an inexperienced teenager—or the old man he was, despite how adamant he was to deny it— and he wasn’t even fully hard yet. Embarrassed wouldn’t even start to cover it. Joel was fucking mortified.

[ak-vintage]

Shameless self-reblog to say that Chapter 1 is coming tonight!

For the first time, I will be starting a tag list for this fic in particular. If you would like to be on the tag list and haven't already expressed an interest, please comment on this post or shoot me a message, and I will include you!

I feel like we all could use a little pick-me-up after last night. Sending hugs to all who are feeling a bit hollow today 🤗💙

From the Ground Up - Prologue

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x OFC ("Reader" Format/Second Person POV)

Series Summary: After getting laid off from your job, you are forced to move back in with your parents until you can get back on your feet. You can't help but feel like you have started your life over again at square one, but when your dad's best friend offers his help in the form of a job at his burgeoning construction business, you learn that maybe there is more than one path to the life of your dreams.

Chapter Summary: You receive news that throws your carefully-planned life into a tailspin, and you are forced to ask for help.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Angst. Complex family dynamics.

Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When the news broke, it came in the form of a pre-recorded video call.

You joined the 30-minute meeting from your desk, headphones cupped securely over your ears and the report you were currently refining open on your second monitor. It was intended to be a quarterly business review, something you didn’t have to actively participate in but that you enjoyed running in the background while you worked on other tasks. You preferred to stay informed, to be able to go to your one-on-ones with your manager with a nugget or two to discuss to show that you had, in fact, been paying attention.

Instead, however, as the webinar link loaded and the video share flared to life, rather than the CFO’s balding face staring back at you, you were met with the static, faraway gazes of both the CEO and the head of HR. The chat was disabled, the Q&A box turned gray. There was no way for you, or anyone else in the call, to interact with the presenters.

You felt your stomach drop, something cold and sickening settling deep in your gut, and like a car accident on the freeway, or an oncoming freight train, you found you could not look away as the video began to play.

“…we regret to inform you…”

“…not a decision we make lightly…”

“…two months of severance will be paid out on…”

“…lose access to company systems following this call…”

“…look for further communication to your personal email addresses on file…”

The 30-minute call ended after only 10, the screen going black and then disconnecting automatically, and just like that, you and about 150 other people found yourselves unceremoniously unemployed.

The following 15 minutes passed in a humiliated blur. Frantic glances around the office floor, trying to sus out who had also met the business end of the unfeeling corporate axe and who had somehow managed to avoid it. Pitying stares from your teammates whose employment was still secure, the ones who got the alternative meeting invite and were told in a different pre-recorded message that they were safe. Trembling hands and pricking eyes as you stood to start gathering your belongings. Cool, dispassionate instructions from the building security guards who hovered while you packed, waiting to escort you and the other unfortunates from your desks to the parking deck.

The whole thing could hardly have been believed if you hadn’t lived it yourself. You had never been naïve enough to buy into the insipid “we’re like family” philosophy your employer boasted on all of its recruitment materials, but this level of callousness stung more than you cared to admit. You had never had a place of work make you feel quite so small before. You felt like a spectacle, like a criminal, and it made your heart race anxiously in your chest the entire way out of the building.

When a security guard held out his hand and demanded you surrender your employee badge, it was only the anger and betrayal simmering just under the surface of your skin that prevented a tear from leaking down your cheek.

So you polished up your resume. You applied for unemployment benefits. You signed up for job alerts from all the major online job boards. You sent out countless applications, responded to numerous dead-end cold calls from recruiters. You checked your email almost compulsively, kept the sound on your phone turned on at all hours. You did everything right. And still, endless weeks passed with hardly a whisper.

For the first few months of your unemployment, the severance package was a lifesaver. You stayed on top of your rent, paid the remainder of your bills without issue, and even managed to sneak a little into savings. After that ran dry, you were forced to tap into those savings to make ends meet. The unemployment checks simply weren’t enough on their own – not in Dallas, not in this economy, and for a while, your rainy-day fund provided exactly the kind of emergency cushion it was designed for. Until that, too, started to grow lean and meager.  It was then that you started to question whether it was time to ask for help.

At first, the thought of calling your parents didn’t even cross your mind. Your mother didn’t know the first thing about the household finances; she had been living with carte blanche from your father for decades and hadn’t earned a paycheck of her own since before you were born. And your father… Well. He was a “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” sort of man. Not the type of person you would prefer to consider asking for a handout.

Instead, over boxes of Tex Mex takeout and reruns of your favorite sitcom, you asked your boyfriend how he would feel about moving in together.

The two of you had discussed it a handful of times in the past, but only in the abstract – couching every conversation on the topic with “someday” just to be clear that you didn’t mean right now, you didn’t mean soon, you meant some hypothetical future date that could be months or even years down the line. Perhaps had circumstances been different, you would have contented herself with continuing to broach the topic as theoretical, but the reality was that you were quickly running out of options. The two of you had been together for nearly 10 months and had yet to encounter any major obstacles that would have had you questioning the relationship’s long-term potential. It was a logical step, you thought, even given the extenuating circumstances.

Except…perhaps it wasn’t. If Jacob’s deer-in-the-headlights stare and stammering reply were any indication, perhaps the suggestion that the two of you move in together was absurd.

His apartment was too small for two people, he insisted. And finding a new one, in this market? Out of the question. Plus, he liked his neighborhood, liked his building. It was the perfect distance from his office, and you knew how much he hated dealing with the city traffic; would you really ask him to give up such an easy commute?

And really, wasn’t 10 months a little soon to be talking about living together? He thought you both enjoyed your independence, both preferred having your own spaces. Couldn’t you just find a cheaper place for now? Surely your unemployment checks weren’t that small. Were you sure you weren’t being just a bit too frivolous with your money right now? Did you really need to rush into something as serious as moving in together?

Needless to say, you dropped the subject.

You made it two more weeks before you overdrew your account for the first time. Another two more weeks, and you were dodging emails from your landlord about being behind on rent. Every night as you lay in bed, tracing patterns in the ceiling plaster as you begged for sleep, the weight of it all felt like a physical thing, pressing on your chest, stifling your breath. Rent, utilities, car payments, student loans, insurance, credit card minimums…all of it in the red, all of it more than you could manage without the income that you had built your life around. You were not an extravagant person; you had planned it all, budgeted it all down to the penny. And despite your best efforts, you simply could not thrift and save enough to make up for the sudden loss of 50 percent of your income.

So you did the one thing there was left to try – opened the one door that you had kept firmly closed throughout this entire ordeal. Late one night, an eviction threat you had found taped to your apartment door crumpled in your palm, you picked up your phone and punched in a number you knew by heart.

“…Kathryn?” The man’s voice on the other end of the connection was low, gruff, half-asleep as he mumbled into the receiver. “You okay? D’you know what time it is?”

You swallowed your answering sigh, the sound morphing into something more like a hiccup as unwanted tears started to catch in the web of your eyelashes. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry to worry you. I’m okay.”

“That’s good, that’s good. What’s goin’ on then, kiddo? You need somethin’?”

Letting your eyes fall shut, you took a moment to gather yourself, to collect the words of the question you had been praying you would never have to ask. Those trapped tears fell then, and you heard the gentle splat of the water hitting the paper in your hand, surely leaving blurred ink in its wake.

“Dad, I… I need help. Is it okay if I move back home?”