#pedro pascal characters fanfiction

[604to647]

Oh my goodness! This was so cute and festive - I know it's a teeny bit early, but it's really getting me excited for all the Christmas-y fics that will be coming up 🥹🥹🎄🎄🎅🏻🎅🏻

(Dave would totally be that dad that dressed up too 🤭🤭)

caught kissing santa | dave york

-> pairing: dave york x f!reader

-> word count: 1586

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; established relationship/reader is married to Dave and stepmom to his kids, mentions of food and drinks, non-religious Christmas celebrations and Santa beliefs, alluding to sexy time but no smut, kissing, mentions reader is wearing pajama pants, fluff, soft Dave, one use of ‘good girl’.

-> note: this literally came to me this morning and i whipped it up during nap time. Not beta’d, so all mistakes and misspelling are my own fault!! -> masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

“So let me get this straight. You saw Santa last night. In the flesh. Just standing in our living room?” 

You hear Dave ask Alice to retell her story again from where you’re standing at the kitchen counter, pouring steamed milk into your coffee. Except this time, he encourages her to tell it at a slower pace  so you both could catch every word of it. 

“Yeah!! I was thirsty and wanted to get some water. So I got up to go downstairs, but when I got to the stairs I could see him in the living room.” Alice says, sitting across from Dave at the kitchen table where there’s a huge breakfast of pancakes, waffles and all the sweet toppings laid out. Her excitement is infectious. Her innocence is still palpable and going strong, as she states she saw Santa with her own eyes. 

“And what was he doing?” Dave encourages Alice to share more as he spoons several helpings of  mini chocolate chips onto his stack of pancakes with a hearty serving of peanut butter melting over the top. 

“Putting our presents under the tree.” Her words were muffled by a mouth full of sliced strawberries. 

“Hmm. I guess that makes sense. Where were you Molly, when all this excitement was going down?” Dave looks over to the youngest of his two girls, who’s been enjoying her own helping of pancakes with a mixture of berries and chocolate chips piled on top. 

“Sleeping.” You snicker into your cup at Molly’s blunt response. Her mild temperament was proof enough that the apple doesn’t fall far from the Dave York tree. 

You turn and lean against the kitchen counter, so you can watch the rest of their conversation unfold. 

It took some convincing to get Dave to go along with your idea of dressing up as the Jolly Man in Red this year. Knowing that Alice gets up every night to get herself a glass of water, it was the perfect set up for her to happen upon. Thankfully Dave folds easy to your convincing pleas and a good make out session on the couch late into the night seals the deal. 

Alice had come to you a few weeks ago about the matter. Asking about the validity of whether or not Santa was real. She had heard her friends talking about how they were getting too old to believe in such a silly thing and how it was their parents all along. You could sense the turmoil of her wanting to still believe in the idea of Santa, but also wanting to feel a part of her friend group who seem to be eagerly growing into their not quite pre-teen selves. 

As her stepmom, you didn’t feel like it was your place to have such a turning point conversation with her. Wanting to leave that for Dave and Carol to broach the topic with her if it were to come up again, supporting whatever their approach would be. You told Alice that Santa is real and he makes sure to bring a little holiday magic each year to everyone, no matter how old they are. Your answer seemed to satisfy her inquisitive mind and gave you an idea to give her a little extra Christmas gift in case this would be her last year believing in Saint Nick. 

“What was Santa doing?” Dave sits back into the chair to take in the rest of what Alice had to say. His arms crossed over his broad chest. Your attention is briefly drawn to the way his gray nightshirt pulls tight over his shoulders and back, then quickly refocusing back to Dave and the girls. 

“Putting all the presents under the tree. He had a big bag of them, too.” Her arms stretched out to give him an idea of how big the bag was. 

You smile at the way Dave is giving her his full attention. Never letting on that he was the one wearing the suit late into the night as he placed each present under the tree in the living room, while you watched him from where you sat under a blanket on the couch. Snapping a few photos of him as he really got into character with each gift. Pausing every so often, his hands on his waist, complaining how miserable and hot it would be to actually be Santa in the thick red suit and beard for an entire evening. He even warned that your gifts would be lost if you continued to laugh at his misery. 

Pushing off the counter, you join the three of them at the table. Settling into the open chair next to Dave, as you continue to sip from the warm coffee in your mug. 

“So did you say anything to him? Ask him if he brought you anything special this year?” You ask Alice. 

“No! I was worried I would scare him away and that he’d take our presents with him.” Her eyes widened as shakes her head no. It warms your heart hearing her response to this whole situation, the exact reaction you were hoping for. 

“Oh! I didn’t even think of that. We wouldn’t want him to take everything away that he brought for us.” You say looking over to Dave who’s smiling into his own cup of coffee. 

“He also seemed a little busy once he was done putting all the presents out. So I just went back to bed. Wanted to be surprised when I woke up this morning.” You’re confused by what she means when she said he was busy.

“Busy? How so?” You ask before taking another drink. 

“Well—“ She pauses and looks at Dave, as if to search for the right words before continuing, then back to you. “I saw something else before I went back to bed.” 

“What would that be?” Dave’s gaze shifts over to you momentarily when he inquires about what exactly Alice saw. Clearing his throat as he adjusts his position in the wooden chair and grabbing for his mug to keep his hands busy, his grip on it tightened and his knee bouncing at a steady pace. His fidgety movements are a telltale sign that he’s anxious— valid, given the way Alice has you all hanging by her every word at the moment. 

“I saw you kissing Santa under the mistletoe that’s hanging over the fireplace.” Alice looks you straight in the face when she says it. 

Dave nearly spits out the sip of coffee he had just taken. Coughing into his napkin as silence takes over the entire room. Molly halts her pancake devouring to stare at you with a shocked expression. 

“Oh! Umm, well—“ You fumble over your words. Sheer panic runs through your body as you try to come up with something quickly as to why Alice would have seen you kissing “Santa”. 

“Hey, girls look at what time it is. Your mom is going to be here in 20 minutes to pick you up. How about you go on upstairs to get your stuff together. Brush those sticky teeth and get dressed so you’re ready to go when she gets here.” The girls cheer in unison as they both hop off their chairs and run in the direction of the stairs that lead to their rooms. The bombshell revelation is long forgotten now. 

“Oh my god!” You let out a big sigh and slump down in your chair, your head turning to see Dave silently laughing to himself. “She’s going to ask me again why I was kissing him— but I think you bought me enough time until they’re back from Carol’s.” 

Dave reaches over and grabs your hand, pulling you from your chair and into his lap. Your arms drape around his shoulders, your temple resting against his forehead. His hand smooths over your pajama clad thighs, the other resting at your hip where he gives you a few gentle squeezes. 

“Thank you for doing that for her. She might not believe in him next year, but she’ll have this Christmas as a fun memory to tell her kids when they’re asking whether or not Santa is real.”

“Thankfully all she saw was the kissing— or she would have been scarred for life.” Dave says between the soft kisses he’s giving to your neck. 

“You’re the worst!” Playfully hitting his shoulder. 

“That’s not what you were saying when Santa was showering you with all those gifts last night.” His eyebrows waggle as he looks at you, rolling your eyes back at him. Your face heats up at remembering just how many gifts you were given.

“How about when the girls leave, you slip back into that red suit— forget the beard. And you can give me some more of those wonderful gifts.” You whisper, as if your suggestion might be heard by two sets of small ears. “I might be in the giving mood and have a few for you as well.”

“I don’t know. Have you been a good girl this year?” Dave asks in a low sensuous tone. 

“The best!” You manage to say before his hand is pulling your face to his, kissing you with earnestness. 

The sound of feet bounding down the stairs cuts the kiss short. Alice and Molly making their way back into the living room to pick up where they left off with their new toys. 

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” Dave places the softest kiss to your lips. 

“Merry Christmas, Dave.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

So It Goes...

Gold cage, hostage to my feelings Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Teen. Summary: Today's the day you've been dreading... letting everyone know. Little do you know your day is about get worse... Dieter has to leave. Warnings: pov switching, pining, fluff, comfort, so much inner turmoil for them (don't worry they'll figure it out soon), call back to one of my favorite simpsons episodes, a secret reference to drag race because @devineconjuring is very funny, croissants Words: 3,400

A/N: Help, I've fallen for characters I've written and I can't stop writing out scenarios. If you love Dieter and Golden Girl like me, welcome back. The biggest most grandest thank you to @devineconjuring for being the bestest beta who lets me yell insane typo'd ramblings to her. She gave me the title suggestion and also is so smart and wonderful and excuse me, I have to go wave a flag with her name on it as I march in a parade in her honor. Previous Chapter Masterlist

*** His phone shrills him awake at 8:25. 

ALEX DAVIES CALLING

Shit. 

He gently shuffles out of the bed, instantly missing your touch when he delicately lifts your arm off his chest. He quickly tiptoes out the room and answers the call.

“Alex,” he whispers, eyes focused on the framed wedding photos that hang across the hall from the guest room. 

“Sorry to call so early, Bravo, but Spencer’s decided to go a different way and he’s going to need you for reshoots on Bittersuite. He needs them stat, so your hiatus has been cut short.” 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How short?” He steps closer to the collection of photos, focusing on the photo of you smiling in front of a grand bookcase full of leather books. Your white wedding dress with the delicate threads of golden ivy flourishing across it catches his eye. He had downed drink after drink that night, trying to quiet the thoughts that rattled through his mind. God, he wishes it was him.

“Shooting starts Tuesday… back in London.”

His head hangs down. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Sorry, Bravo. You good to leave tomorrow?”

“I have no other choice,” he grumbles, his eyes focusing on a backlit photo of you laughing and dancing at the reception.

“You don’t. I’ll have Court get your travel and hotel situated. She'll follow up later today. Alright?”

“Alright,” Dieter sighs, his heart breaking at the thought of 7,000 miles separating the two of you and not being here for you. 

Ending the call, he opens his camera and aims it at a candid shot from your wedding. You and him are laughing, your heads thrown back, your arm grabbing his. Warren stands with his arm around you, wearing that same sly smile he always has. Dieter zooms his camera in, cropping Warren out of the picture. Now, it’s just you and him. To a blind eye, it looks like it could be a happy bride and groom on their wedding day. He snaps a pic, feeling somewhat like a criminal, rewriting the narrative of your wedding night in his head as he quietly walks back into the guest room. 

You’re still asleep, splayed across the bed, mouth slightly agape. Your green pajamas have your old initials embroidered on them in golden thread that reminds him of the ivy on your wedding dress.

He gently lays back down. His jeans annoy him, but he didn’t trust himself to sleep in anything besides them. Like a self-imposed denim chastity belt. 

He replays last night–the secret moments, half-spoken confessions, feelings, and declarations swallowed down before they could escape. One day you’ll know. One day he won’t feel like he’s crossing a line. He just wants to do good by you. 

Two days now, he’s woken up next to you, feeling like he’s been in a dream. But everyone eventually wakes up. Reality always returns. 

Today’s the day you open the proverbial door to hell, letting everyone know. Today, he has something to tell you: tomorrow, he leaves for London.

He watches you peacefully sleep, chest steadily rising and falling. You’re the first thing he’s seen when he’s opened his eyes for two mornings now, yet it feels like something he’s done for a lifetime. You’re not his, and yet it feels so right.

You sigh in your sleep. He wonders if you dream of him. Or is it Warren? God, he hopes it’s him. 

He shouldn't feel this way. Your life will soon turn too chaotic, too unknown. 

And yet he can’t ignore the way you looked at him last night, eyes heavy with words left unsaid. He wonders if you truly know how he feels. If you feel the same pull he’s always felt.

He pulls the sheet up over your shoulder with adoration. He wishes he could stay in this bed with you forever, shielding you under his heart and the soft blankets. 

Tomorrow he’ll be far away, on a film set–surrounded by people, lights, and cameras–playing the hero of the story. And none of it will matter. Because you won’t be there with him. Because he can’t protect you. Because he won’t wake up next to you, feeling the warmth of your body next to his. Because he won’t be able to get lost in this temporary illusion of him being the one who holds you and loves you. 

He could wake you up and tell you everything. Confess all the feelings he’s felt for all these years, risk it all, take a chance, and gamble with his heart. But he can’t. He’ll continue to toe that line for as long as he can, too terrified of losing you. He’ll take his unspoken words with him across the ocean and time zones. Where they can’t hurt you. 

The morning sun shines through the sheer curtains, backlighting you, casting you in a rich golden glow. For now, he’ll stay here, laying beside you. Pretending you're his golden girl for a little longer.

–

Your phone alarm rings, jolting you awake. Your head is pounding. The bed is empty, but you swear you remember placing your head on Dieter’s warm chest in your drunken haze and being lulled to sleep by the tranquil rise and fall of his chest. You try to rub the sleep out of your groggy eyes, letting out a large yawn. God, you drank a lot last night. Speaking of last night–the realization wallops you upside your already aching head–the song confession to Dieter, the way his eyes rounded in sadness, how close he held you against him. The press of his lips against your forehead when he wished you sweet dreams. The feel of his arm wrapped around your body, pulling you deeper against him. 

Another realization hits. You have to let people know today because, once they know, you can begin to move on. God, you don’t even want to think of the prospect of telling everyone. What will you say? Hey, it’s me, Warren left me for someone else, but it’s okay. I was kind of miserable in the marriage as it stood. Anyway, see you around!

You shake the thoughts out of your head. First thing first, find Dieter, then get some sustenance in your stomach and some Advil for your head. 

“Dieter?” you call out as you get out of bed.

No answer. 

You walk down the hall, and the house is quiet. 

“Dee?” you shout as you head down the stairs. 

Nothing.

Did your feelings offend him? Did your drunken confessions spook him? 

The only sign he was here is that the records are cleaned up, no longer strewn across the floor. No note left, nothing. There’s no way he’d do this to you… right? God, what did you tell him last night? You feel like a fool. Not even 48 hours after your husband walked out and you’re trying to confess your love to someone else… let alone his best friend. 

Why does this hurt more than your marriage ending? 

Flopping against the couch, you feel ridiculous at how sad you are over Dieter leaving you like this. You feel the trail of a lone tear as it falls down your cheek. You knew today was going to be awful. You just didn’t think it would be this ba–

The doorknob jingles open, and Dieter walks in with a white bag and a tray of coffee.

You can’t hide the smile that spreads wide across your face when you turn and see him. 

“Dee,” you whisper.

“Hey, Sweets,” he sends you a lopsided smile. “Was hoping I’d be back before you woke up. I got you your favorite.”

"You're the best, Dee," you say, gratefully accepting the coffee.

You can’t even recall the last time you told him what your favorite food was. Something as simple as breakfast is making your heart race in the middle of your living room. “You didn’t have to…”

“Of course I did,” he interrupts, walking over and setting the bag on the coffee table. “You need food, and I need…” He trails off, his eyes staying on you for just a second too long before he looks away. His voice softens. “...I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly. “I am.” 

He sits down next to you, tenseness radiating from his body and the way he moves. He clears his throat, nervously raking his hand through his hair. 

You take a drink of coffee. Of course he ordered it the way you like it. “What’s on your mind?” you ask tenderly, turning to him. 

He looks up at you, and for a quick moment, you think he might tell you everything you want to know… but then he looks away and leans back, rubbing his face with both hands.

“I–uh,” he starts, then stops. His voice cracks. “I have to leave tomorrow.”

A bomb. Dropped in the middle of your living room. 

Your heart sinks. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” He whispers, as if saying it out loud will make it even more real than it already is. “Spencer wants me back for reshoots. London. I leave first thing tomorrow.” 

Your stomach twists, the thought of him being thousands of miles away hitting you harder than you expected. You haven’t even begun to process the end of your marriage, and now the one person who has held you together is about to leave.

“Oh.” It’s the only word you can manage. 

His brown eyes watch you, his brows furrowed as he tries to figure out your reaction.

“Look, I-I wish I could stay here and not g–”

“No, I know. You have to.” Your voice cracks. “I’m sorry, I’ll be okay. You can’t just stay because…” Your words trail off as they reach your mouth, dying in your throat.

Because you have to lie. Because you do need him. Because you know you can’t do this without him.

His jaw clenches. His eyes flash through something akin to anger, sadness, and frustration. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” His voice is so fragile, like he knows just how much this is going to break you. 

“Last night… What I said… Did I–?”

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” he interrupts, his voice soft but firm. “You didn’t.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands clenching into fists as if holding himself back from saying more. He stands and paces the room like he’s trying to burn off the nervous energy buzzing within him.

“I told you I’d be here for you, Sweets, and now, I can’t.” He stops and turns to you. “I can’t be what you need right now. Not like this.” 

Your heart breaks a little more at his words. You want to tell him he’s wrong, that he’s exactly what you need. But you don’t. You just nod, because you think he might just be right. 

He moves closer, standing just inches away, his eyes searching yours for something. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but you want to give it to him.

“Dieter,” you say, your voice barely audible as a tear slips down your cheek. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to either,” he says softly. He steels himself with a deep breath. “But I have to.”

“Can we just have breakfast together still?” Your voice sounds so infantile and desperate. Another tear falls.

He kneels in front of you, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Of course,” he says, giving you the smile you’re going to miss. 

—

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a croissant, flakes scattering like confetti around you. This is undoubtedly the saddest party he’s ever been to. He smiles at you, and you return it, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He feels like a fuck up again. He feels sick to his stomach, his appetite waning as he studies you.

“How’s your head?” he asks softly.

You glance down at your cup, swirling the coffee absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze. “No complaints yet,” you reply with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. 

Dieter laughs at the joke, but he knows you’re upset. Hell, he is too.

“You should have seen the line at the café,” he says, trying to distract you. “A guy recognized me and let me cut the line, so I got the last croissants of the morning. Sometimes this whole acting thing works out.”

You let out a weak laugh, but it’s barely a whisper against the silence that envelops you both. He wants to reach for your hand, to bridge that gap now clinging between you like a thick fog. “I’m glad I went, though,” he adds. “You deserve a good breakfast after last night.”

“Yeah, last night…” Your voice trails off.

His heart sinks at the way your words are left hanging in the air, raw and unspooled. It hurts to see you so distant. The croissant feels heavy in his hands. He places it on the table with a sigh.

“Look,” he starts, trying to steady his voice. “I-I hate this, Sweets. You nee—I told you I would be there for you, and now, I’m going to fail yo—”

“No, Dee. God, I’m sorry,” you turn to him, your eyes rounded with guilt. It breaks his heart to even look at you, sitting vulnerable next to him, still in your cute little pajamas.

“I didn’t mean to put you in this position.” Your voice trembles. “I just… everything is so overwhelming right now. I’m still trying to process all of it.”

He nods, his chest tightening with every word you speak. “It’s okay,” he reassures. The words feel hollow coming out of his mouth. He knows it’s not. He knows he’s lying. “You’re allowed to feel everything. I just…I want to help you, not make it worse.”

“I know you do,” you say softly. “That’s why it’s so hard.”

“Hard?”

You look away, fiddling with the edge of your pajama top. “Dee, it’s hard… because… I’m scared of what this means for us. For me.” You breathe in deeply. “Warren left me–no notice, no explanation. And now… here I am, sitting with you, and last night I–I–the song, you know. It feels like I’m just rushing into something I don’t understand, and now you’re leaving… for… so long, and I feel…you–you’re so important to me, and you’re–you–”

He interrupts gently, “You don’t have to say anything more if you’re not ready.” He can’t hear this now. He can’t. He stayed up holding you last night, thinking of that song and the lyrics. Eyes like sinking shipsOn waters so invitingI almost jump in

You nod, returning to your croissant. The bite you take of the flaky pastry echoes in the shared silence that hangs heavily in your living room. He wants to pull you close and hold you, but the fear and the quickly approaching deadline of his inevitable trip keep him at bay.

“What are you going to tell everyone?” he asks quietly. His shoulders hurt from the stress of holding everything back; he tries to loosen them. He feels like he’s letting you down with every word he speaks.

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I’ll just… tell everyone the truth.”

You’re so brave. He swallows hard. Warren’s ruined your life, and now he feels as if he’s done something wrong too.

“Well, you’ve already told me, so there’s one person down,” he offers with a slight smile.

You laugh, and his heart soars, reminding him of the plane he’ll soon be on, traveling far away from you. Why can’t his brain just allow him one victory?

“I guess I’ll start with the important people and work my way down the list,” you shrug.

“Sounds like a plan, Sweets.”

“God, I am not looking forward to it,” you sigh, dusting off the crumbs that had fallen from your now-finished croissant.

He watches you with a mixture of admiration and concern. Your shoulders slump, pressed down from the weight of your own thoughts. His heart aches for you and all of the vulnerability you’ve shown him.

“Come here,” he finally whispers, leaning back on the couch. You hesitate for only a moment before sliding closer. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you in. His heart skips a beat when you lean against him, resting your head against his chest. This is all he’s ever wanted.

“Cartoons?” you ask, your voice already relaxed.

“Cartoons,” he nods, grabbing the remote. Now, this is all he’s ever wanted.

—-

The clock ticks above the television screen. Dieter has to leave your house by 3 to pack and get ready to go. You almost ask if you can accompany him, but you stay silent. You have too much to take care of today. Your family doesn’t even know yet. The sooner everyone knows, the sooner you can begin to heal.

It’s 2:45 now. Fifteen minutes left. You cuddle closer to him, relishing the feel of his soft shirt. He chuckles at Homer Simpson ordering a crab juice, and a small smile edges your lips. For a moment, you feel happy. You hum a peaceful sigh, feeling his strong arm wrap around you even tighter. His lips ghost the top of your hair as he takes in your scent with a deep breath.

The clock insidiously continues to tick. You wish it could just stop. That time could suspend itself here in your living room. But it won’t, and it doesn’t.

The Simpsons episode ends. Dieter reluctantly extracts his arm from around you. “I—need to get go—”

“I know,” you say.

He stands, the space between you widening, a chasm filled with unsaid words and feelings not realized. You watch him move, already mourning the warmth of his company as he slowly begins to grab his belongings. The sun filters through the windows, lighting your house in a bright glow, but all you feel is the darkness of your and Dieter’s impending separation.

You reluctantly rise from the couch, feeling foolish in your pajamas as he puts his sunglasses on and grabs his keys.

“Well,” he softly says, reaching for the door. “I should get… going.”

“Yeah,” you reply, trying not to sound as sad as you feel.

“You know, I’ll be back before you know it,” he offers, though the words feel like a fragile promise.

“I know,” you say, stepping towards him, bridging the distance between the two of you.

“And I’m always just a call or text away,” he says, his hand cupping your chin. “Take care of yourself, Sweets.”

“I will,” you whisper. “You too, Dee.”

You lean forward to kiss him. Just as your lips are about to meet his, he slightly turns his head, your kiss landing softly at the corner of his mouth. A bit of hesitation lingers between you, and a flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks as you pull back. He offers you a shy, sweet smile before he turns away and walks out the door. 

Why did you lean in? You feel like a fool.

He walks down your front path and unlocks his car, and with one last solemn nod toward you, he gets in. You can’t watch him drive away. You shut the door. 

Now it’s only you in your cold house, alone. You head to your kitchen and grab a bottle of wine and a wine glass.

It’s a pajamas and wine day today.

You pour yourself a glass and settle on the couch. It’s time to move on. It’s time to take care of yourself. You’ve got this. 

You spend a long time on the phone with your parents, reassuring them that you are okay and will be fine. Exhausted, you switch to Turner Classic Movies and find a marathon of war films. Oh good, nothing with love, please. You begin to write the list of everyone who needs to know as William Holden tries to escape a POW prison camp.

Dieter’s text tone dings from your phone. Two texts. Your heart pounds against your chest when you read them.

Hey, sorry about earlier. I just knew if I kissed you…. I wouldn’t stop

[punkshort]

'i know who you are' masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

-or-

Joel has to make you fall in love with him all over again.

Series Warnings: smut MDNI (18+), post outbreak, language, angst, hurt/comfort, graphic depictions of violence, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter

Status: complete

I started a notifications blog in lieu of a taglist: @punkshort-notifs

Chapters:

1: the beginning

2: the journal

3: the accident

4: the others

5: the dinner

6: the fight

7: the week

8: the return

9: the end

Extras/BTS/Inspo:

Floor Plan

Pregnancy Scare headcanon

Drabbles/Requests:

Never Enough - a day in the life pre-accident

Before - the morning of the accident

Jealous - you finds out about Angie (the first time)

Stubborn - the night Joel convinces you to make things official

It didn't mean anything - Joel finds out about your history with Ben for the first time

Three Words - You remember another memory, this one more special than the rest

Broken - Joel finds out you got hurt on patrol.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[604to647]

Everyone say thank you to Kate's Pinterest 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

Your Joel's dirty talk in this is 😮‍💨😮‍💨 as usual, but "You look so hot in black."?!?! At a funeral??? Diabolical and hot as heck 🫠

I love your brain 🥹

THE FUNERAL

Joel Miller x f!reader || 600 words

Summary: Joel fucks you at a funeral.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, spanking (1), hair pulling(1), rough sex, unprotected piv, creampie, degradation but it’s sweet, mention of death, infidelity, dark undertones. Reader has hair, wears a dress.

A/n: I just saw these two pics on Pinterest side by side and my brain birthed this. not beta-ed, barely edited. Hope you’ll like it<3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You drag Joel to the bedroom by his big hand and as soon as the door closes behind you two, you kiss him with passion and hunger, that you haven’t known until meeting him.

“Take me, Joel.”

“Now?”

“Yes. All those fake tears and awkward condolences make me wanna scream. I‘d rather scream because of you.”

You’re heaving, suffocating with lust that is rippling through your body in waves.

Joel’s crooked smile tells you that he’s in and soon your cheek is pressed to the bed and his clothed hard-on is rubbing against your ass.

“You look so hot in black.”

His compliment makes you smile but the next moment a whimper crawls up your throat when his warm hands slowly glide up the back of your naked thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and exposing you. Joel growls when he sees that you’ve been naked and dripping under your mourning dress. The clang of his belt and the clothes rustling send shivers down your spine and then you moan with anticipation as his hot cock heavily lands on your ass cheek.

“Fuck me hard. Let me feel what I’ve done. Punish me.”

Joel chuckles but the sound lacks cheer. Bitterness coats his words.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, baby—“

He almost chokes when his tip pushes between your wet folds.

“— only waited for your rich old husband to die.”

“Meanwhile fucking you,” you add with a smirk and then gasp as his fat head catches on your soft hole and he slowly starts pushing it in.

“Damn, you’re soaked.”

“Been thinking about this all day. Couldn’t wait for you to ruin me.”

Instead of a reply Joel slaps your ass cheek and you jerk at the hard stroke.

“Such a slut. Horny for your lover at your husband’s funeral.”

You moan loudly, not caring who could hear you, when his thick member is spreading your walls so nicely, and you tremble at the delicious stretch.

“Say it again,” you whine.

You hear a smirk in his voice when Joel repeats,

“Your husband’s funeral.”

The sound you emit almost makes him spill inside you— it’s full of ecstasy and joy.

“Bad girl.”

He bottoms out and you clench the sheets, before he drags his cock out almost to the tip. You squeeze around his bulbous head, pussy greedy and desperate.

“Yes—yes—yes,” you chant as he starts fucking into your cunt with energetic thrusts, sending you higher to your peak.

Suddenly Joel grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up against his chest. You don’t feel pain, just lust and pleasure are licking at your body, as his hips are hitting your ass, sending his cock deeper into your core.

His hot breath tickles your ear when he gruffs through the sound of skin slapping against skin,

“I’ll keep punishing you like this forever, baby. You’ll be my little cock sleeve. My personal slut with a dirty secret. We’re connected forever now.”

“Forever,” you breathe out and turn your head to latch onto his mouth.

The kiss feels almost violent, all teeth and groans, and you break it abruptly to search for his blown eyes.

“Promise you’ll protect me. Promise no one will know what we’ve done.”

Joel presses his sweaty forehead to yours and slows down his thrusts to whisper,

”I promise.”

With his arms holding you tightly, his stiffness languidly massaging your soft spot, you come on his thick cock and your pulsating cunt makes him squirt his creamy load against your walls. It’s hard to breathe in his steel embrace while he’s filling you full, but tears of happiness are flowing down your face because finally, finally, you are free.

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the story<3

MASTERLIST

Tag list:@milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[baronessvonglitter]

Daddy Can Fix It

handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader

Word count: 5.4K

Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️

Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:

so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"He can come clean my pipes anytime."

Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.

You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.

When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."

Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.

"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.

You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.

"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."

"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.

"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.

Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."

"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.

"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."

The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."

"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.

"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.

You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.

That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.

You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.

"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.

"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.

"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.

"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.

Daddy Can Fix It

You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.

You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"

Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.

"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"

"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."

You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."

"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.

"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"

You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."

Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"

"Eleven sounds perfect."

"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.

His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.

Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.

He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.

"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.

You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.

"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.

Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.

How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.

You aren't even sure you love him anymore.

But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.

He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.

You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."

He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."

"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."

"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.

Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.

"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.

You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.

"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.

You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.

"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.

Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"

Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."

Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"

You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"

"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.

"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."

"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."

Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.

"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."

"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.

"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."

"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"

"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."

"And everyone else at the book club?"

"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"

No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.

He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.

And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?

You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.

A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.

The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.

Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.

Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.

"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"

Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."

"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."

He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."

"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."

His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.

"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.

Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.

"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"

Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..

A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.

"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.

Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.

You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.

Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."

He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.

"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."

You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.

Joel is fucking hung.

You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.

Thank God I did my yoga this week.

You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.

He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.

"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.

His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.

"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.

When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.

It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.

Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.

His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.

"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."

Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."

"Nuh-uh. Daddy."

"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."

"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."

"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.

"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.

He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.

It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.

You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.

"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.

"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.

"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.

It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.

"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.

"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.

"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.

"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"

"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.

"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."

Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.

"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."

He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.

"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."

The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.

"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.

"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"

"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."

He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."

His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.

He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."

"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.

"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"

"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.

"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.

The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.

Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.

"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.

He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."

"Like what?" you ask slowly.

He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.

"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.

"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.

He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"

dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑

tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors

[milla-frenchy]

Owned

354 words | Joel Miller x fem reader Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, possessiveness, piv, creampie a/n: Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

series masterlist | Masterlist | ao3

“Fuck…spread your legs for me. Yeah, just like that. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel was holding your knees on either side of your head, hands resting on the back of your thighs, as he was thrusting in hard and fast. His gaze was down at your pussy taking his big cock, splitting you in two, and sometimes your mouth could barely make any sounds other than moans.

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, baby girl? Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to ruin my cunt, daddy…”

“Fuck…I'm already holding back from sending my load baby…this little pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

He sped up slightly, to give you what you wanted and gritted his teeth, frowning.

“That’s what you wanted, baby girl? Gettin’ your little cunt fucked like a good little slut?”

“Yes, daddy…just like that.”

“Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“You, daddy. It’s yours.”

“And when he fucks you, whose pussy is that?”

“Still yours. Only yours. Always.”

He growled, as if it was turning him on even more, as he was still thrusting, even deeper and harder than 10 seconds before.

“Fuck, fuck. Touch yourself, baby girl. Not gonna last. Come on my cock.”

You slipped your finger into his mouth for him to lick it. He looked like a wreck. His curls falling to the side of his face and his sweat was sliding down them.

Your finger twirled over your clit, your mouth parted in pleasure.

“He fucks you like that?”

“No, daddy. Not even close.”

“Good. Come on, baby, come for me.”

And you did as he asked. Like you always did. Responding to his every whim as he responded to yours. Your pussy squeezing his cock even tighter, pulsing on him.

“Oooooh…baby girl…fuck yeah, just like that…Damn I’m gonna come, baby…Gonna fill this pussy. My pussy…Oh god….” He didn’t stop talking even when his cum covered your walls, and you grabbed his cheeks to kiss him.

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and you wondered when you would finally dare to break up with his son.

Same "couple": Owned collection

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[eff4freddie]

Play With It

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader

Explicit - Minors DNI

Your busy schedules have meant you just can't get it together, and you're starting to miss each other. Joel is finding it particularly...hard.

(AU no outbreak)

Warnings: Just some good old PWP, smut, phone sex, Joel is a menace, dirty talk, praise kink, Joel talks you through it, kind of soft pleasure-dom vibes? Please tell me if you like this, if you can't already tell I also have a praise kink, love me damnit

Words: 3.5k

NEW! Sequel - Play With Her

You just kept missing each other – literally and figuratively. If you had a late shift at the hospital, Joel had an early start on the site. If you got home to make dinner, Joel was working late. If you both managed to get home at roughly the same time, you lay on the couch next to each other in sweats and barely scraped the energy together to turn the TV off for bedtime. Your schedules were just out of whack. It happened.

But you were missing him. The fold of his crow’s feet when he smiled, the gentle little huff of effort when he bent down on his bad knee to pick up a fallen utensil, his heat behind you in bed, enveloping you and soothing your frazzled, jangling nerves. Your hindbrain was struggling to soothe itself without the weight of his body on yours. You were unmoored.

This morning was no different – you’d come home late, past midnight, tiptoeing up the stairs and slipping under the covers as gently as possible, knowing he had an early start. You were tired to the bone anyway, your knees aching from hours upon hours striding up and down hospital corridors.

You could sleep in, at least, until 10 AM the next morning. It was the one solace as you drifted off, pushing yourself against Joel’s back and winding your hands around his chest. All of this work the both of you were doing was for your future, for yours and his and Sarah’s. Within a year you should have scraped up enough for a deposit on a house. It would be worth it, even if you ached for him.

Your phone woke you, and you cracked an eye to try and gauge the time. You determined it to be half-past too early. You let it ring out. If it was important they’d leave a message.

A minute later it rang again and you fumbled for it on your bedside table just to silence it, seeing as you lifted it that it was Joel. A little scalpel of panic sliced at your insides. He never called twice unless it was important, and never during the day. What if he’d had an accident? What if he was hurt?

‘Joel?’ you asked, your voice cotton and sandpaper.

‘Hey, baby,’ he said, his voice calm, gruff, maybe a little frayed around the edges.

‘What’s happening, are you OK?’

‘M’fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry ya.’

‘Y’never call twice,’ you muttered, settling back down against your pillow, your eyes closing of their own volition.

‘I needed my girl,’ he said, and you noticed his tone, then, the darkness in it. You let out a little shiver, wrapped up warm and tight in your bed.

‘What are you playin’ at, Joel Miller?’ you asked, and you heard him hum in response.

‘I’m bored at work, baby,’ he said, and you could hear that he was pouting.

‘Surely you can find yourself something to do,’ you said.

‘S’why I’m callin’,’ he replied.

‘Something productive,’ you clarified, and you listened to him huff out a little laugh.

‘Baby?’ he said, his voice back down to burnt honey and salted caramel.

‘Mmm?’ you asked.

‘I wanna watch you play with it.’

Your eyes shot open, gasping. You felt the tangle of want in your belly, little tendrils reaching down your thighs to tug, tease, at your cunt.

‘Joel!’ you scolded, and you heard him snicker. ‘Aren’t you on site?’

‘Found m’self a little quiet place, out of the way.’

You didn’t respond, thoughts obliterated as your traitorous mind replayed his words on repeat in your head.  Wanna watch you play with it. Wanna watch you play with it.

‘I’m in the truck, baby,’ he said. ‘Parked way down the back. No one can see, no one can hear.’

You felt the tension in your shoulders release, slightly, but your heart was still racing and you supposed it wasn’t going to stop. Not while you could hear him gearing up to destroy you without even being in the same suburb.

‘She droolin’ for me?’ he asked, his voice gravelly and you could hear the way his breath was shaking, knew that his own pulse was thrumming so hard in his neck it was making it hard for him to breathe out the words to you.

You squirmed, rubbing your thighs together under the sheets. He knew, of course he knew the fucking filthy old man, that you were almost permanently wet for him.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, and you heard him groan a little, snuffle it down with a bite to his lip.

‘Fuck, baby, been thinkin’ about you all morning. Woke up with you wrapped around me like a fuckin’ koala bear, took all my strength not to roll you over and fuck up into you while you were dreamin’.’

You gasped again, struggling to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. Joel was so stoic, used his words so carefully in real life, that you could hardly believe your luck when you got him into the bedroom for the first time and he let loose the filthiest stream of consciousness you’d ever heard. He bathed you in his dirty little fantasies, doused you in his furious want for you.

‘Can I see her?’ he asked, and suddenly you were shy.

‘Just woke up, Joel,’ you said in protest, reaching up to smooth your hair without even thinking of it.

‘Love it best first thing,’ he said, ‘when you’re all warm and soft and pliant, let me do whatever I want to ya, keep those sweet warm thighs wrapped around my ears… or my cock buried deep in that sweet little cunt of yours and have you too sleepy to tell me to quit it.’

‘Mmm…quit it,’ you said, stretching, and he snickered.

‘Too late, baby, want you too bad.’

You liked him like this, although you’d never tell him that. Liked him a little bit needy, a little bit cunt drunk, wanting you so bad he had to pull his car out back and see to himself. You sighed. You were going to do it for him, you were always going to do it for him, but sometimes you had to put up a fight just for the appearance of the thing.

‘Please, baby,’ he said, and his words were punctuated with little breathy sighs, now.

‘Wanna see you too,’ you said, bargaining, stalling for time and not sure why.

You heard his voice grow distant as he pulled the phone away from his ear, and you did the same, waiting for facetime to connect.

You held your breath, holding the phone above your face as his ancient phone camera adjusted.

Then there he was, those beautiful brown eyes you could never say to, so soulful and kind and currently blown wide with want. His hair was scruffy like he’d been tugging at it. You giggled a little when you saw him, genuinely pleased.

‘Hey baby,’ he said, grinning at you, and you watched as his dimples emerged.

‘Hi,’ you said, suddenly shy, burying half of your face in your arm.

‘My beautiful girl,’ he muttered as he gazed at you through the phone screen. ‘I’m missing you, baby.’

You nodded, humming your agreement. ‘Miss you too,’ you said.

‘She missin’ me?’ You blushed, your core pulsing the moment he came on the screen. You nodded again. ‘Show me, please, baby,’ he implored. You could never refuse him.

He waited, his eyes bright and watchful, as you positioned yourself onto your back, angling the phone to travel down your body; first the tips of your straining nipples against the light cotton of your singlet (he whimpered at this, especially as you reached down and tweaked one a little), then lifting the cotton to reveal your belly, softening in the years you had known him but confident that he loved it just the same (he cooed at it, and you thought you heard him inform your belly he wanted to nip it and then kiss it better when he got home), then down a little further, your other hand now trailing along with the lens, to the aching heat of your core (you heard his sharp intake of breath as your pussy came into view, still covered by your panties, where the gusset was darkening with your slick. ‘There she is, fuck…’ he trailed off, and you felt your clit throb at the heat in it).

‘Let me have a little peak,’ he said, his voice reverberating around your empty bedroom as it shot out of the speaker on your phone. ‘Somethin’ to get me through the day.’

You giggled, pulling hard on your underwear so that the cotton stretched over your lips, outlining them perfectly for him as he groaned. You ran your fingers over the cotton, pushing and pulling at your lips, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

‘You hard for me, Joel?’ you asked, and you heard his guttural ‘uh-huh’ in response. You slipped a finger under the leg of your panties, pulling them to the side so he could inspect the pink, the slick, of your folds.

‘Oh fuck, baby,’ he said, ‘such a good girl for me.’

You preened under his praise, your clit throbbing as you fought to control your breath, determined not to let him know what he was doing to you, not to let him win. Instead, you pulled your phone back up to your face, grinning at him.

‘Hey, where’d she go?’ he asked, and you laughed.

‘You know exactly where she is.’

‘Want to see her, baby, please,’ he said again, whining now, and you saw his shoulder moving slowly, the flex of his bicep just within view of the camera.

‘Show me what you’re doing to yourself, Joel Miller,’ you said, and he grinned at you, busted. His cheeks were pink, and he was starting to glisten from sweat. You wanted to lick it off him, take the salt of him into your body.

He angled his own phone down, so that you could see he was palming himself through his jeans. He let out a little gasp at one particularly hard tug.

‘Take it out,’ you said, and he tutted, raising the camera back to his face.

‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’ he said, and you were up on your knees in an instant, swivelling to prop the phone up against the head of the bed, balancing on a pillow, as you reared back and slipped your underwear from your skin.

You watched as he freed himself, his belt moving aside so he could reach into his pants and pull himself out over his waistband. You felt more slick gather at the top of your thighs as you gazed at it, thick and large and with a vein on the underside you loved to rub along your tongue.

‘Play with it,’ he said, and you hated that you couldn’t gaze at his cock and his face at the same time, resolved to settle for the current view for now, as beads of precum gathered at the tip. You watched as he ran his fist over the shaft, leaving the head. You knew how sensitive it was, that when you sucked on it as you pulled, gently, at his balls he couldn’t help himself but to buck himself up into your throat, grunting your name as though you would bestow him mercy. You hadn’t, yet.

‘With this?’ you asked, teasing your fingers along your glistening cunt, avoiding your clit because you were already too close, wanted to prolong it, see how crazy you could make him.

‘Fuck yeah you know with that,’ he said, his irritation real and adorable, and you grinned.

‘Tell me how,’ you said, feeling your cheeks go hot and remembering that only recently had you built up the guts to tell him you loved it the most when he encouraged you, instructed you, talked you through it.

‘Run your fingers along the outside, gather up the slick,’ he said, and you did, shivering a little both at his words and the gravelly tinge to his voice. You could see his hand trembling as he held himself, the way his cock was flexing, throbbing, for more. ‘Run your fingertip over ya little clit, tight little circles… but not too hard,’ he said, and you groaned when you touched yourself there, your stomach clenching and nearly pitching you forward, the pleasure shooting down into your legs and up into your chest. ‘Nuh uh, too hard,’ he said, and you released the pressure a little. You realised he was going to punish you for teasing him. You realised you were going to let him.

‘She feelin’ good, baby?’

‘Mmhmm’ you breathed, nodding, momentarily incapable of words.

‘I want to watch her stretch,’ he said, and you opened one eye to see that he was now tugging at himself, pulling at the skin of his cock, drooling precum and using it to lubricate the head. He was grunting a little, his breath catching as he fought to keep talking. You smiled to yourself.

‘With my hands?’ you asked, feigning innocence even as you sank down further on your knees so he could get a better view.

‘Just give her one finger f’now, don’t wanna scare her,’ he said, and you nodded. ‘She’s so tight, baby, need to be gentle with my precious little pussy.’

You gasped, rolling your head back to the ceiling as though Jesus himself might save you.

‘Oh, I want it,’ you sighed, not sure what ‘it’ even was.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he cooed, soothing you even as he tortured you by proxy. ‘Slide one inside, let that little cunt gobble it all up, that’s the way.’ You bucked again, riding your own finger, as you whined. ‘Rub that clit baby, make it easy on her.’

You took your other hand and kept the tight little circles on your clit, whimpering all the same. You raised your eyes to him, realising now he had placed the phone on the dash so you could see his face, the naked heat in his gaze as he watched you, and you gasped at the sight of him, your cunt clenching on your fingers as a bolt of want shot through you at the sight of him.

‘Joel…’ you whimpered, called for him, and his brows furrowed.

‘I know, baby, but you can do it,’ he said, and you keened, speeding up on your clit.

‘It hurts, I want you so bad,’ you complained, and you saw the grin start to emerge on his face before he schooled it, pulled it back down to faux concern for your predicament.

‘My poor girl,’ he said, nodding at you as you saw his shoulder flex, watched as he licked at his lips, trying to stave it off so that he could continue to torture you. ‘Give her one more, let that greedy little cunt have what she wants.’

You could feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, the ache for him in your chest nearly as strong as the ache for him in your core, and you slid another finger in without any resistance, your slick leaking out to pool in your waiting palm.

‘S’good baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, then shook your head, then nodded again.

‘S’better when it’s you,’ you answered, honestly, trying to hook your fingers forward like Joel did but not having the length, not having the angle.

‘Imagine I’m right there behind ya, baby,’ he said, and even as he said it you felt heat bloom on your back. You rolled your head back again, as if his imaginary shoulder could hold it. You were dimly aware that you were swivelling your hips, fucking yourself down onto your hands, as you imagined Joel’s delicious, throbbing cock poking at the small of your back.

You could feel every nerve ending from the tips of your toes to the edge of your tongue singing for him, the sparks combining with the throb of need in your cunt. You couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stay still, set on fire by the heat of it.

‘Look at me,’ he grunted, but you couldn’t, couldn’t coordinate your movements, couldn’t crack open your eyes, drowning in it, feeling the pull of it slip over your nose and mouth. ‘Look at me while you play with it,’ he said again, louder and a little meaner this time, and you felt yourself react almost purely on instinct, snapping to attention.

He was panting, his own hips shifting as he tugged at himself, sweat gathering now at his brow, the sides of his forehead wet. He was jutting out his bottom lip, jaw flexing as he bared his teeth to you, trying hard to stave off the pleasure while simultaneously being driven mad by it.

‘Look what that sweet little cunt does to me,’ he said, his voice dangerous now, low enough that you found yourself holding your breath. ‘You seein’ this, baby?’

You nodded, almost wanting to apologise for how thoroughly you had deranged him.

‘Such a good girl,’ he praised again, and you felt a shudder of your hips. ‘Can she take one more?’ he asked, and you nodded, without hesitation. He had done that to you, had made you so wet and so wanting, your cunt pounding so soundly now, that you would take anything he instructed you to give yourself. ‘Do it,’ he grunted, and you did, a third finger sliding in to greet the others, a yelp of beautiful agony leaving your lips.

‘Fuck…’ you muttered, breathless, winded with the pleasure. ‘I can’t…’

‘Yes you can, baby, doin’ so good,’ he said, and you were losing yourself to it now, could feel the momentum, that you were nearing the point of no return, that you wouldn’t be able to pull your fingers from your needy, stretched little pussy until you’d come on them, until Joel had made you come.

You tried to bark out a warning, that you were getting too close, that it was about to sweep you away, except that when you opened your eyes to look at him you saw that he was right there with you, that he was sucking in great billows of air to steady himself, that he was panting and sweating and gasping your name, calling for you, his head rocking backwards to the headrest of his truck, overcome by the want for you, only to immediately swing forward again to watch you, to stare at your hands between your thighs on his phone screen, his hard, bulging cock in his hands, ready to burst.

‘Oh!’ you gasped, when you saw the state he was in, and his eyes snapped from your cunt to your face.

‘I know, I know,’ he repeated, fighting for air, ‘I know, I know, I know….’

‘May I?’ you asked, as though you would have been able to hold back, as though you had a choice, and he nodded, releasing you from the torment. You felt it speed up, the peak rising up to meet you, the backdraft scorching a path through your core as it caught you, and you came, hollering for him, whimpering and huffing, shocked at the intensity of it, at the way it obliterated you, whited you out, the sound of Joel’s twin cries nearly drowned by it.

--

At some point you had collapsed, falling from your knees to your belly on the bed. You could hear Joel, buried somewhere under the pillows, whimpering as he came down from his high, and when you had recovered the strength you fished the phone out and brought it back to your face. He sat, his head thrown back in his truck, as he gathered himself.

‘Christ on a cracker,’ he said, and you giggled. It had been too long. You wanted to do it again.

‘You OK, honey?’ you asked, and you heard him huff out a laugh.

‘Made a damn mess of m’self,’ he said, and you giggled again, little fizzing joy finding your chest. You felt lighter, not having realised how heavy the burden of missing him had been.

‘You got a towel or anything?’ you asked, and he rolled his eyes.

‘No, I don’t have a towel. Didn’t expect to be doing that this morning.’

‘You didn’t plan it?’ you asked, incredulous.

‘Just got overcome,’ he said, his dimples re-emerging as he looked at you, bashful, through the phone.

‘Mmmm,’ you agreed, feeling somewhat overcome yourself.

‘What time’s your shift start tonight?’ he asked, and you felt reality encroach ever so slightly on your happiness.

‘Start my shift at 5,’ you said, and he nodded. You could see the crease in his brow as he concentrated.

‘Fuck it,’ he said, having apparently come to a decision. You watched as he reached forward, turning the engine over, and heard the truck roar to life. ‘Don’t move a muscle,’ he said, putting the truck into gear and reversing out of the lot.

‘Joel, what are you doing?’ you asked, laughing a little at the look of pure determination on his face.

‘You stay right there,’ he said to you, winding down the window and calling out – presumably to his boss – that he was feelin’ poorly and needed to head home.

‘Joel, you can’t leave in the middle of the day,’ you said, and you saw his smile as he totally ignored you.

‘Be there in fifteen minutes,’ he said, pausing for a second to gather his thoughts. ‘You got to play with it,’ he said, picking up the phone and preparing to hang up so he could drive. ‘Now it’s my turn.’

[nerdieforpedro]

Awww… 🥰 The fluffiest of fluff. And I would do horribly in the woods so I can relate to this so much. 🤭

Brandy by the Fireplace

7.8K / Frankie Morales x City Girl!reader

Summary: When your best friend's boyfriend invites her up to the cabin he owns with his Delta Force buddies, she asks you to come along.

Warnings: None! Fluff! Insecurity and anxiety on reader's part, but Frankie makes it better (anxiety/comfort. My anxious girlies (gn) who think everyone hates them when they definitely don't? This one's for you 🥹). Nicknames because it's me. Oh, and Tom's alive?

A/N 1: Written and very late for @auteurdelabre's Trope Off Challenge - the trope here is Fish out of water because, well you know🤭🤭 Can be considered a Triple Frontier AU, or set before the events of the movie. Though I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this and the word count got away from me, I still think it's cute and very seasonal - I hope others do too!

A/N 2: As I understand it, the cottage v. cabin lexiconic difference is a Canadian thing. When people think of cottage country, it's primarily the luxury getaway experience in the Muskokas. Super fancy! Celebrities cottage there (the Beckhams, Cindy Crawford) and the properties are huge lakefront estates. While in Western Canada, people primarily have cabins - they're more rugged, remote. In no way am I saying that cottages are better than cabins! They are just different - both enjoyable and picturesque in their own way. But you gotta know what you're in for, cause of packing and stuff... 😅😅

Trailer / CABIN dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘😘

This was such an effing mistake.

You sniffle as you sit cross-legged on the simple threadbare sheets covering the thin mattress that you’ve called bed for the last two nights.  You’re holding your favourite fleece sweater in your hands, looking at the scorch marks where flareups from tonight’s bonfire had jumped from the pit and burned multiple holes - the black charred spots on the fabric blurring as your tears finally spill over.

I shouldn’t have come.

A ruined sweater in and of itself wasn’t the end of world.  But a ruined sweater here? Tonight? It’s just the freaking cherry on top of the already disastrous sundae that was this weeklong vacation so far.

And you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.

When your best friend Jenny begged you to come with her to her boyfriend’s cabin for a week, you had readily agreed.  You love Benny and he and Jenny are so adorable, if not a bit too overly mushy and cheesy (“We’re the better Bennifer!  Woo - Benny and Jenny!!”).  He and his old army buddies had gone in together on a cabin on a lake about seven hours out of the city at the suggestion of their Veterans Affairs therapist – something about working the land and finding serenity in nature to help them overcome some of the harder things they’ve seen over their time in service.

It apparently did wonders for them.  Both Benny and his older brother, Will, who you had met a few times, were easy going and kind men - maybe a little rough and tumble with each other sometimes, but you didn’t see it as anything more than filial comradery and brotherly love.  Jenny assured you that Benny’s other friends, Santi, Tom and Frankie were all cut from the same cloth.

Benny had invited Jenny up to the cabin for the boys’ annual Autumn weeklong trip – taking advantage of any remaining mild weather from the end of summer to clean and close up the cabin for the Fall and Winter.  All the boys would be there and Tom’s sisters had been invited as well – Jenny begged you to come for support and of course you had said yes.

Sure, you’re a city girl through and through, but this wouldn’t be your first cottaging experience.  You fondly recall the summers and Thanksgivings you had been invited to your college roommate’s family cottage in the Muskokas: crystalline waters and lush greenery bordered the beautifully landscaped acreage upon which your still close friend’s family’s 9 bedroom-9 bath modern estate resided.  Summer days were wiled away on the built-in dock lounging and reading, and the cooler temperature evenings were spent inside by one of the several contemporary fireplaces, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on charcuterie.  It was always such a treat to go - you haven’t visited in ages, but a similar getaway right now sounds like heaven.

Your first clue that perhaps this might not be the Muskoka cottage country experience you imagined, is when the last leg of your seven-hour journey in Benny’s truck was over a 30-minute dirt road so twisty and uneven that you started to feel a little nauseous. 

When you got out of the truck, you realized the true folly of your assumptions about where you were going to be staying this week.  The property could best be described as rustic and very "nature forward", the only evidence of landscaping being the dirt worn paths that led to the different cabins.  Instead of one main house, there is a Main Cabin – consisting of a living room area, place to eat, kitchen and the compound’s one bathroom.  All guests stay in individual cabins, isolated and spaced out at various points on the large property. Each so far apart and separated by the lush, dense forest, you don't even know where they all are: Upper Cabin (Benny and Jenny), Delta Cabin (Santi), Bunk Cabin (Frankie), Screened-In Veranda Cabin (You), New Cabin (Tom’s Sisters), Outhouse Cabin (no one), Grizzly Cabin (Will and Tom).

You’re not opposed to roughing it a little, but by the error of your own expectations, you’ve come thoroughly unprepared for your week’s stay.  For one thing, your cabin (as the name would suggest), along with all the others, has no windows - only screens.  Perfect for the hot summers, but with Fall coming early this year, the clothes you packed aren’t warm enough to shield you against the chill that blows over your bed each night.  For another, you find yourself sharing space with more critters that you were expecting, and not the adorable furry types either.

The frog that came out of the one toilet made you almost consider using the outhouse up by the parking lot (almost). And when you were washing your face that first night, the realization that the running tap was the only thing that was keeping the cricket from jumping out of the sink, forced you to stifle a scream that left your throat hoarse. There are all together more bugs indoors than you had expected (since you had expected windows). 

It's definitely more rustic that you’re used to, but you really do try to make the best of it.  The last thing you want is to appear rude or snobbish about the decidedly non-luxurious state of your accommodations.  Sure, it isn’t the glamourous cottage experience you had expected, but it’s still incredibly beautiful and serene here.  Moreover, you know that every cabin and amenity on the property was built by Benny and his friends and has served incredible therapeutic purpose for each of them.  You would never want to diminish that by somehow implying that the cottage isn’t… cottaging; this place serves a much more important purpose than impressing the likes of city girls guests like you.

You also don’t forget that the entire reason you’re here is to support Jenny.  Make sure she and Benny have fun.  And they are! Inseparable, giddy, googly-eyed fun.  No way are you going to ruin her perfectly good time by letting her worry about you, not when this is the first healthy relationship she’s had in years.

And honestly, everyone is so, so nice.  Benny and Will’s Delta Force teammates are as good humoured and sweet as they are.  There’s Santiago (or Santi), the unofficial leader of the crew – his hooded brown eyes look like they could tell a hundred stories, but he keeps your group entertained with the loudest and most fantastic ones, always framing his stories so that they rib at least one of his buddies.  Tom, the eldest of the friends, is more serious – the type who might exude an intimidating gravitas if you were to meet him alone, but next to the verbose energy of Benny and Santi and under the watchful eye of his sisters, he seems to relax, smiling pleasantly and genuinely while in the comforting presence of his friends.  Will, who is just as boyishly handsome as his brother, you already know to be as easy going and funny - though maybe a little less goofy than Benny.  Despite what Jenny had slyly insinuated to you before you left, you don’t think Will has any interest in you – and with Tom’s gorgeous and outgoing sisters both vying for his attention, the circumstances aren't right to try and see if there’s anything to Jenny's (and possibly Benny’s?) matchmaking. 

The last member of the friend group is Frankie, who the guys sometimes inexplicably call ‘Catfish’ – he was noticeably reserved at first, though you soon realize that he’s just as funny and generous as the others.  Frankie's steely and calm countenance seems borne out of necessity, likely from the many years of service where his competence and levelheadedness were needed to keep the other four in check, alive.  You notice that he often sits a little further back from the group, most likely out of habit, literally watching their backs; he’s quieter and less rowdy, but never fails to join in his friends’ laughter – it’s obvious to you that he loves his brothers in arms.  Once or twice, you think you feel Franke's deep, soulful eyes pointed in your direction, but when you try to meet his gaze, those same eyes disappear beneath the brim of his worn Standard Oil cap that never seems to leave his head.  You think you probably imagine it. 

Everyone is so much fun to be around, super nice and completely welcoming of you.

They just… don’t really need you here.  Well, that seems presumptuous!  Rather, there doesn’t seem to be a place for you here the same way there is for everyone else.

It was evident from the first day when the boys pulled a small catamaran out of the boathouse and attempted to try (again, from what you’re told) to put it together and get it out on the water.  Every person was asked to help pull on the trampoline netting – when it was evident that your limited strength and poor (manicured) grip on the netting wasn’t actually doing anything except making you an extra body in the way, you were relegated to standing on the side, holding a spray can of lubricant and waiting to spray it on the track if someone needed.  No one ever did.  The trampoline never got installed, and you can’t help but think it was partially because you hadn’t been able to provide the additional muscle needed.

During the day, everyone seems to engage in some type of cabin maintenance work from an unseen to-do list: painting screens, sanding down the canoe, pulling up old raspberry bushes, fixing doors and hinges in various cabins, retiling the one shower and installing a new sliding glass door, replacing the hot water pump’s aging parts, reinforcing the mesh around the young fruit trees to deter deer, repairing the older slats on the dock, removing the beaver dam under the dock, and so on and so forth.

All things you have absolutely no qualifications to help with and would likely hinder someone who did if you tried.

Jenny wasn’t terribly handy either, but she tagged along with Benny on all his chores and he didn’t mind patiently explaining and helping her help him with his tasks - the two of them giggling and in love as they winterized the boat shed.

Everyone else seems to know their daily assignments and go about their hard and dirty labour, leaving you alone to… do nothing?  It felt rude to sit out on the lawn and relax while others did work around you.  And even inside there's not much you can do; Tom’s sisters had brought up food for the first few meals and when you asked them if you could help, they insisted that they had it in hand and told you to “go have fun”.  You chastise yourself for having not asked more questions about what you and Jenny could have brought and if you and her could have signed up to cook your share of meals.

You hide out in the Main Cabin or in your own for most of the day, reading and feeling guilty - coming down periodically to chat with people but feeling like you’re distracting them from their duties.

Even after dinner when you volunteered to help do the dishes and clean-up, you were cheerfully shooed away by Santi after you couldn’t find where to put back the cutlery, then the glasses, then the lids to the pots (which were inexplicably kept separate from the pots themselves) – you’re sure there’s a system, you just don’t know what it is.

Maybe it would be different if you knew everyone better, but this is the first time you’re meeting everyone except Benny and Will.  You don’t know any of the guys particularly well but you do know that this cabin is their special place – you don’t want be a bother or ruin anyone’s good time.

To you, it's clear that you’re not carrying your weight here - the last thing you want to be is a nuisance as well. You don’t fit in and you definitely don’t belong. 

Tonight has finally felt a little more comfortable.  After a full day of work for everyone (else) and a belly bursting dinner, the boys set up a bonfire and everyone got together to roast marshmallows and make s'mores.  In addition to looking forward to the melty treats, you were secretly glad for the warmth of the fire in the chilly evening air.  Beers were cracked, marshmallows burnt, and the stories the boys told had your sides aching from so much laughter you’re sure you’ll still feel it in the morning.  But as the fire was dying, the conversation turned to what everyone’s up to tomorrow, you once again have nothing to say that's comparable to the tasks and chores listed by the others.  When Tom comments that there are still so many things to do in order to properly winterize the cabins and that it’ll be a wonder if it all gets done, you look down at your feet - face burning from the guilt and shame of being unable to contribute when help is indeed needed.  You’re sure everyone is thinking that you’re just a freeloader from the city, or worse, lazy and unwilling to put in some work.  Suddenly the last few bites of the s'more in your hand don’t look as appetizing anymore.

You excuse yourself from the group and quickly get ready for bed before heading up to your cabin for the night.  Once settled in, that’s when you discover that your sweater is full of newly burnt holes and you lose it.

Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening.  So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot.  You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of chirping birds and the brightness of the morning sun punctuated by the shouts and loud chatter from down near the water where people are already starting their daily chores.  Another wave of guilt and anxiety sets in as you feel like you’ve had an undeserved lie-in - resting while everyone else got up early to do work.

On your way down to the Main Cabin, you see and wave good morning to Frankie who’s transporting relatively heavy chunks of wood tucked under his beefy arms.  You don’t ask if you can help – how could you? Each stump he carries looks like it could topple you over even if you managed to lift one. 

When you get down to the lawn, you catch Will and Tom’s sisters as they head up to one of the cabins with paint cans and brushes and Will cheerily calls to you, “Saved you some breakfast!”  His completely innocent and kind pronouncement sends your already tightly strung heart into another spiral and you try not to tear up as you call back your thanks.

You eat by yourself from the plates left out for you and feel a little better when you can at least wash them and leave them in the drying rack.  Pouring yourself the coffee that’s left in the cannister, you grimace at it’s lukewarmness, but you don’t know where the grounds are kept or even how to operate the ancient stovetop coffee maker to make more, so you make do and drink it sort of sadly as you return to the dining table and open your book.

It's here where Frankie finds you a few hours after you saw him last.

He asks kindly after your book before saying he’s going to make a fresh pot of coffee and offers to top you off; when you get up to help – he tells you he’s got it before disappearing into the kitchen.  Slightly discouraged, you sit back down; unless you spy on Frankie, there’s no way for you to learn how to make the coffee here - and you’re just debating if you should do just that when he pokes his head back in, “Do you want me to show you how to make the coffee?”

Eagerly, you nod and hurry to join him in the kitchen, making note of where the fresh coffee grounds are stored and listening attentively as Frankie patiently shows you how to work the vintage contraption that Santi rescued from a yard sale.  He smiles at your willing face, wondering why you’re so fascinated by something as mundane as their overly complicated coffee maker, but when you thank him, voice almost quivering with overly emotional gratitude, Frankie’s sure there’s more to it than he’s understanding.

He's been watching you, Benny’s girlfriend pretty friend, over the last two days and can't quite figure you out.  It’s clear that you’re not used to roughing it in these types of conditions, but you don’t complain or make fun – though there is a tinge of melancholy and anxiety to the gentleness of your expressions that he does understand all too well.  You seem sweet and friendly, and Benny certainly speaks warmly of you – but for some reason, you don’t seem entirely comfortable and Frankie wouldn’t be the Army strategist he is if he didn’t notice.  Or a very good host.

“Do you want to go for a row while the coffee drips?”

“A row?”  You look up, confused.

“Yeah, in the row boat.  Come on – this old thing takes forever. We could probably get a good way to the middle of the lake and head back before it’s done,” nods Frankie, encouragingly.

This is the first time since the disastrous catamaran trampoline that anyone has asked you to do anything with them during the day, and you’re surprised by how touched you are by the simple gesture.  Unable to find the words to express how appreciative you feel, you simply nod.

Frankie pushes the old tin boat that you saw him sealing and painting on the beach yesterday partway into the water, helping you in first before pushing the boat all the way in then jumping in himself, two big wooden oars under his arm.  He sits across from you, locks the oars into the oarlocks and starts rowing; his powerful arms rotating the paddles with ease, slicing them through the clear, calm water and gently gliding the boat across the lake.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, and you look over the side of the boat in wonder as the sand bed below slowly disappears and the water gets darker and deeper.  Sighing, you contently breathe in the fresh, crisp Fall air and enjoy the picturesque view of the far off shores and mountains before settling your gaze on the handsome man in front of you.  The ripples and flex of Frankie’s bulging muscles under his shirt as he expertly rows are near mesmerizing, every hypnotic stroke powerful and purposeful.

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

You look up, ashamed.  You've been trying so hard to hide that you're not 100% comfortable being here, it's embarrassing to get confirmation that you've failed in this regard.  Even if the others could tell you weren’t having fun, you hope you haven’t come off as an ungrateful guest or made any of your hosts feel bad.  You’re about to say so and apologize, but something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, kind and soft and not at all judgmental or accusatory, gives you pause.  It’s like he’s genuinely extending an opportunity for you to let go of what you’ve been bottling up since you got here – maybe that’s why he brought you out to the middle of the lake?  Frankie's sincere eyes bore into your own and his gentle demeanor invites you to let down your guard; deflating, you burst into tears, “I’m not!! I’m so sorry, Frankie!!”

Hurriedly, you try to compensate, “Goodness, please don’t think I’m complaining – it’s so beautiful and peaceful here, and Benny told me how much effort you guys have put into this place!  Honestly, your care and hard work really shows – everything is so nice.  It’s just really, really different from the one other cottage experience I’ve had – so I didn’t even pack right.  And I thought there would be a lot more relaxing and lazing around – I really don't know what to do with myself here.”

“Where did you cottage before?”

“The Muskokas?”

Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat; you actually hold onto the sides afraid you might tip over, but find yourself beaming at having drawn out this melodic sound from the normally stoic man.

“Well, City Girl, no wonder this place was a shock to you!  The Muskokas is a very particular cottaging experience – real pretty and real glamourous.  But the rest of us?  What we have aren’t even cottages.  They’re cabins.  This is cabin country,” he laughs good naturedly.

“Right - cabins!” you grin.

“Sorry to disappoint you, City Girl.”

“No, no! Please don’t think that - I’m not disappointed at all! I just came in with the wrong expectations, that’s all.  That’s all on me, Frankie.  Really, the cabin is lovely – I was just expecting a more… cashmere sweaters and brandy snifters around the fireplace kind of a vibe.”  You hope Frankie won’t take your joke the wrong way.

Luckily, Frankie gives you another easy smile, one that reveals an adorable dimple in his right cheek you haven’t had a chance to notice before, “Yeah, we’re more of a bats in the ceiling, on-going maintenance kind of vibe.”

At this, your face falls and your own shortcomings to contribute when everyone else is working so hard claws at your chest painfully.

Frankie immediately clocks the change in your demeanor, “Hey, pretty girl, it’s okay.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, too distressed to notice the new nickname, “No it’s not, Frankie.  You’re right – everyone is chipping in, helping out to keep this place beautiful and running smoothly, except me.  I’m not used to this kind work, so I don’t really know what needs to get done… and even if I did… I mean you saw with the catamaran?  I’m not strong or skilled enough to do any of it.  I thought I could help out with some of the indoor stuff, like cooking and cleaning up, but I don’t know where anything is and everyone is so busy, I feel like such a nuisance bothering them even more in order to show me.  So… I don’t know what I’m doing here – it doesn’t feel right to be sitting around and reading like I’m some kind of pampered houseguest while everyone around me is working, but I also don’t think I can add value anywhere.  I just don’t think I belong out here with you guys.  And I thought I was at least hiding it well, but it's obviously noticeable how much I don’t fit in because you rowed me out here to confront me about it.  I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Frankie.”

You take a deep breath after your long speech and look down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever.

Frankie leans over from his seat, causing the boat to rock slightly and tilts your face up to his with two of his thick fingers, “You’re no trouble at all, pretty girl.  It’s okay if this place is too rustic for ya.  It’s really rustic… and that’s by design.”  He smiles reassuringly, keen to comfort you, “I know Benny told you that this cabin is sort of therapy for us guys?  We saw some... less-than-ideal things on a lot of our missions.  All our missions, actually.  The VA counsellors suggested that we try and work through having seen so much that’s been broken, and maybe even having done some of the breaking ourselves, by getting a project where we come together as a team to focus on improving and building.  It’s meant to need constant ongoing maintenance and have a never-ending list of chores so we can put our energy into building up instead of what we used to do… tearing down.  For the most part, the cabin has been good for us – working with our hands, being responsible for something that isn’t life or death, working towards a common goal where we can be together and enjoy each other’s company in a setting that’s not… exploding.”

Frankie chuckles at his little joke so not to scare you off with the intensity of the topic.  He’s relieved to see that your expression is one of sympathy and understanding, your eyes warm and gentle.  He thinks your eyes are beautiful, deep, kind – he might easily get lost in them if he didn’t remember that he’s supposed to be comforting you, “It really is meant for the five of us to be putting in the work, but I know what you’re saying, it’s not a great feeling to be left out, even if you know no one’s doing it on purpose.  I’m sorry – we should be better hosts.  You’re our guest.”

You start to shake your head in protest at this, but Frankie stops you when he picks up the oars and dips them back in the water to start rowing again, “Tell you what, it’s my turn to make lunch today - why don’t you come and help me.  I’ll show you where we keep everything so you’ll know in case you ever want to… help out in the kitchen again.  I promise you can ask me any questions you want and it won’t bother me at all.”

Perking up at Frankie’s generous offer, you nod happily, “Okay! Thank you, Frankie – that’s really sweet of you.”  It’s probably the first truly joyful smile you’ve smiled since you got here and Frankie thinks you look radiant.

The two of you glide slowly across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes.  Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes.  You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you a few days ago and was considerate enough to ask after you.

His teasing voice cuts through your thoughts, “Is there anything else, City Girl?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“Is there anything else that's been bothering you while you’re out here?”

You bite your lip and shake your head; Frankie has been so kind, you don’t want to push it and appear to complain.

“Come on, I know there is.  Go on, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl – there’s that term of endearment again.  This time when you hear it, your heart swells and your face flushes – and maybe your thighs press together a little, too.  To try and cover up your reaction, you spill your last embarrassing grievance, “Ummmm… it’s kind of spooky at night.”

Frankie booms another side-splitting, deep rumble of a laugh and you instantly feel better, “It’s just sooooo quiet and everyone is so far from one another.  I guess I’m used to background city noises and the feeling of people being around.  It's been a bit unsettling laying in the dark in silence, hearing every little twig snap.” You cover your eyes, “Plus I packed so poorly for the trip because I thought it was going to be a… cottage.  I definitely didn’t bring warm enough clothes.  I brought a TON of self-care stuff though – maybe I should try layering some face masks.” It feels so good to be able to lightheartedly make fun of yourself again.

Frankie laughs with you, then looks thoughtful, “Ok, ok, the chilliness I think I can help you out with.  The spookiness… got to circle back to that.”

“Thanks, Frankie.”  You mean it sincerely.  Even having been able to talk to him about your unease makes you dread the upcoming night a lot less.

Back at the beach, Frankie hops out of the boat and reaches in to help you out - when your fingers touch his, a little spark lingers and your heartbeat picks up a bit.  Hand in hand, the two of you walk back to the Main Cabin together, not letting go until you enter the kitchen.

---

After Frankie patiently shows you the pantry, the freezers, and where all the kitchen items are, he makes sure you have a passing familiarity with everything before the two of you make wraps for everyone.  You find him to be endearingly funny, terribly sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist – Frankie tells you about his work and adventures as a charter pilot, and listens intently as you answer his questions about your work and life in the city.  You almost regret calling everyone in for lunch, but the feeling of being able to offer people something after their morning of hard work has brightened your spirits significantly - it feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You don’t know that the obvious change in your countenance fills Frankie with pride and joy, nor do you see the way he gazes at you with fondness as you cheerfully hand out the wraps or when you jump up after lunch is over and hurry to clear the table.

The next day, you’re returning from a solo walk along the trail that runs behind the cabins on the bay, when you come upon an unfamiliar noise as you approach the boys’ property. 

It sounds like a loud and sharp sudden crack accompanied by a low manly grunt, then followed by a couple of softer thuds.  The echoing combination repeats it self at slightly varying intervals and gets progressively louder until you come upon its source.

From behind a large Spruce tree, you see that it’s Frankie chopping wood.

Frankie repeatedly brings his axe down on the log pieces he’s set up on the chopping block with precision and power.  His sweat soaked shirt is stretched taut across his broad back, the damp fabric doing nothing but accentuate the thick muscles that flex and contract with every burly movement.

Though Frankie’s breathing is heavy, you can tell he isn’t even close to being winded - his strength and rugged athleticism evident by the way he relentlessly labours on, splitting log after log.

Every subsequent swing of the axe captivates you further; a wetness pools in your mouth that you have to force yourself to swallow, lest it spill over and you get caught drooling.

"Wanna give me a hand, City Girl?"

Shit.

Emerging from behind what you now realize looks like a hiding spot, you give Frankie a sheepish smile, “Oh, ummm… you look like you have it pretty well handled.  Not sure if I could even make a dent in one of those logs.”

Frankie takes off his signature cap and uses the back of the same hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead - he chuckles and his eyes twinkle, “Could you help me gather and stack the wood I split onto that rack over there?  And bring me new logs to chop from that other pile there?”

You nod enthusiastically.  Frankie’s making work for you and you’re so thankful and excited to help.

For the next hour, you run around gathering the firewood that Frankie splinters and set him up with fresh logs.  When you apologize that it takes you so long to carry the larger rounds to him, he tells you not to worry – it gives him a chance to catch his breath and take a much-needed rest.  You don’t tell Frankie that he doesn’t look like he needs any rest at all – your own quickened breaths have very little to do with physical exertion and more to do with ogling Frankie’s broad and brawny frame, and the way the entirety of his strapping body is thrown into each axe swing, every muscle engaged, tensed.  It’s similar to the way he looked when he effortlessly rowed the two of you in the tin boat across the lake, but like… a hundred times more burly.

You try to distract yourself from openly drooling at Frankie’s sweat soaked torso by expertly arranging the firewood on the rack so that it fits perfectly together like a Tetris puzzle.  When the last piece has been placed on top, Frankie marvels that the firewood storage has never looked more organized and with one hand still holding on to his axe, he takes your soft hand in his other and leads you down to lunch.

Over the next couple of days, you notice that Frankie goes out of his way to make sure you’re not alone or hiding out in any of the cabins.

He takes you out in Benny’s truck to run in-town errands like picking up additional groceries or getting gas for the boat.  These trips are always filled with fun and easy conversation and end with a treat at the ice cream shop on the main road.  Frankie teases you on how you always flit from freezer to freezer, determined to try a flavour you’ve never had, and you groan at how he sticks to his tried-and-true mint chocolate chip.

You’re getting bolder at offering to do the indoor, more domestic tasks and chores that you know you have the skills to handle like making meals and cleaning up; more often than not, without you asking, Frankie will join you in the kitchen.  Even though you tell him to relax and that he deserves rest after his physical exertions of the day, Frankie stays and hangs out - casually drying dishes, tasting your sauces, leaning his massive figure against the counter and discreetly pointing to various cabinets and drawers when you forget where things go.

Frankie makes you laugh with his quippy jokes and clever little observations, and he makes your cheeks warm with his subtle and sweet flirting.  But mostly, he makes you feel so included, relaxed and accepted – his kindness at having taken you under his wing and giving priority to your comfort and enjoyment at the cabin makes your heart positively sing. 

Since the day he took you out on the rowboat, Frankie has come to visit you in the Screened-In Veranda cabin every night.  The first night, it’s to bring you extra blankets and one of his thick hoodies – all of it you accept gratefully; he also brings a pack of playing cards and the two of you play Big Two until you can barely keep your eyes open. Making sure you're bundled up in his hoodie, Frankie leaves you to sleep under a comically thick stack of blankets and happily swathed in his manly musk.

The next night, he brings you an old worn box of Rummy-O, explaining that he and the boys try to buy old games from garage sales to bring up to the cabin, even ones they’ve never played before.  You’ve never played either, and for the next few nights, you and Frankie spread the tiles over your bedspread and become Rummy-O experts, stopping only when you’re too tired to keep playing - then and only then does Frankie leave you before traipsing back to his own cabin.

Embarrassingly, it takes you until tonight to figure out what he's up to.

“I know what you’re doing,” you grin in the dimly lit cabin as Frankie dons a Korean face mask and lets you give him a cuticle oil treatment.

“I’m getting pampered,” Frankie murmurs from where he lays, careful not to move his face lest the sheet mask slips.

“You’ve been keeping me company every night until I get sleepy so I don’t have to lie here in the dark and be scared,” you look at him warmly, in awe of this tender-hearted man’s goodness.

You see one eye open in the eye hole cut-out of the mask and the corners of the one for the mouth tug up a little, “Has it been working?”

“Yes and thank you.  And I think your hoodie and the blankets you brought really helped too – the nights feels way cozier now.”

“Good.  I’m glad.  Now do you have anything that’s going to help with these bags under my eyes?”

You cackle, sure that the sound of your and Frankie’s joint laughter must carry clear across the lake.

It’s the last night at the cabin and the whole group is out tonight for another bonfire.  You’re nice and snug in Frankie’s hoodie, giggling with Jenny, who you feel like you’ve barely seen this whole week – she fills you in on all eight hundred of the adorable things Benny has done for her this week and you’re over the moon seeing her so completely in love.  The entire group is in great spirits, toasting to another successful season at the cottage, all the shared memories, new and old stories to tell, and the delicious food eaten over this week.  Your dinners for the latter half of the week are praised, and when you bury your face in the oversized sleeves of Frankie's hoodie in embarrassment, you feel his strong arm curl proudly around your shoulders and you positively kvell. 

The drinks flow liberally tonight with no one needing to wake up early and the only chore on anyone’s list being packing.  About halfway through tonight’s bonfire, Frankie slips away from the group; everyone is too caught up in their own conversations to notice it, but you immediately miss having his comforting presence close by.  You’re just about to ask Jenny for the tea on why Tom’s sisters seemed to be giving Will the cold shoulder when you hear Frankie’s dulcet baritone low in your ear, “Hey, City Girl, can I show you something?”

Getting up, you leave the others at the bonfire and follow Frankie back into the Main Cabin.  He ushers you towards the main living room and when you enter, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks with a gasp.  The darkened room is lit bright and warm from the fire that Frankie’s laid in the fireplace, the flames crackling slow and calm – he must have been stoking it for a while.  In front of the glowing fire is a little carpeted area with cushions arranged purposefully to create a makeshift sitting area.  In the middle sits two brandy snifters filled with an amber gold liquid.

“Frankie, what’s all this?” you exclaim, eyes bright as you turn to look at the handsome, affectionate man who brought you here.

Gesturing for you to sit down in front of the gently roaring fire and handing you one of the glasses as you settle in, Franke shyly explains, “Wasn’t able to swing any cashmere sweaters, but I wanted to give you your brandy by the fireplace cottage experience.”

Rendered speechless by how cute and thoughtful Frankie is - all you can do is give him a doe-eyed look of awe as you sip the liquor he managed to procure.  For you.

“Thank you, Frankie.  This is perfect.  But if I’m being honest, I’ve quite warmed up to the cabin experience,” you tease.

“Good,” the tenor of Frankie’s voice is warm with the undercurrent of what’s not yet been spoken out loud.

As you both enjoy your fireside libations, you joke and flirt, keeping the conversation light - somehow tip-toeing around what’s happening between the two of you.  Your bodies, though, pay your shyness no mind, inching closer and closer until you’re practically in Frankie’s lap.  The conversation grows quieter as words are replaced by looks of longing and want until all you seem to be doing is studying the dark and rough lines of Frankie’s face, the plushness of his lips, the adorable heart shaped patch in his facial scruff.

With one final sip of brandy, the soothing burn of the liquor down your throat gives you that final push of liquid courage and you drop your gaze from Frankie’s soft chocolate brown eyes down to his waiting mouth.  Not so innocently, you lick you lips at the sight.

Then Frankie is on you, crashing his lips to yours – the empty snifters rolling away on the carpet as you pour yourself into his mouth, open wide and inviting.  This first kiss is nothing short of sensual and desperate, the feelings that have been simmering over the past week boiling over until you’re both a mess of tongues, moans and clashing teeth.

“Oh Frankie,” your soft whimpers a welcomed song to his ears, Frankie returns your sentiments by licking behind your teeth, exploring and stroking into your receptive mouth with a fiery passion.  His hands maneuver you to straddle him so that he can better feel you, roaming your back until one hand comes to a rest at the nape of your neck, the other under one of the pert globes of your ass, using them as leverage to press you flush against his chest.

As your hands go to run through Frankie’s soft waves, you knock his favourite cap onto the ground and you giggle loudly when it lands near the now forgotten brandy snifters with a little thud.  Frankie feels himself harden at the melodic sound.

You make out like teenagers, tongues dancing and teeth nibbling until you both run out of air and have no choice to break apart, panting.

“Been wanting to do that since I saw you your first day here, City Girl,” admits Frankie, eyes tender and sincere as he rests his forehead against yours.

Leaning in to lightly peck his lips, you’re surprised but can’t help teasing, “What took you so long, Morales?”

Frankie chuckles, though his eyes flash with a bolt of insecurity, “Wasn’t sure you would want to.  Benny said something about how he wanted to try and set you up with Will.”

Your face scrunches up with astonishment - so Jenny wasn’t just being facetious!  But you quickly cup Frankie’s face and run your thumbs reassuringly through his adorable scruff, “I don’t know anything about that.  But what I do know is that I can’t resist a kind hearted, handsome man who goes out of his way to take care of me, never judges me and makes me feel comfortable without pushing me to be someone I’m not.  You, Frankie – I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you to kiss me.”

Taking this as the invitation it is, Frankie slots his mouth over yours once more.  This second kiss is slower, deeper, and full of promise.  You sigh as Frankie’s tongue slides over yours in a slow and intimate waltz and his lips find yours again and again and again.

“Querida,” he murmurs, “when we get back to the city, can I take you out to dinner?”

Grinning at having earned yourself another nickname, you tuck yourself into the nook under Frankie’s chin and press one, two, three soft kisses to his neck while nodding, “I’d love that, Frankie.”

The next morning you wake up well rested, with a strong arm banded over your body and Frankie’s hard chest pressed up against your back.  Slipping slowly back to consciousness, you can’t help but smile as the memories of the previous night come flooding back.  Frankie came back up to your cabin with you and stayed to keep you company as he had the previous nights, but instead of games or spa treatments, he kept you awake with the hard and soft kisses of his expert mouth and innocent touches that by the end of the night, didn’t feel quite so innocent anymore.  Lips swollen after hours of making out, Frankie had tucked in with you under the covers and held you close, lulling you to sleep with evenness of his breathing and the soothing rise and fall of his chest.  Rolling over, you find Frankie already slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, City Girl.  Did you sleep okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Slept perfect, Frankie.  Coziest night here with my own personal furnace.”

Frankie chuckles, “I like waking up with you like this, pretty girl.  Like seeing you wearing my clothes, too.”

Shyly, you gaze into Frankie’s eyes, heart beating faster at his look of adoration, “I like it too, Frankie.  Waking up with you, wearing your clothes.”

After some tender and sweet kisses under the covers, the two of you manage to get out of bed so you can pack and get ready for the trip home.

Right before he closes the door to the Screened-In Veranda Cabin, Frankie turns around, “Wanna ride with me on the way back, City Girl?”

“Sure!  What about Santi and Will?”  You can’t help but get excited about the prospect of a long road trip with Frankie.

“They can go with Benny.  Or Tom.  Well at least Santi can ride with Tom.  Don’t think Tom’s sisters will let Will into Tom’s truck,” Frankie looks genuinely amused and you once again spot that cute dimple make an appearance in his right cheek.

“Omigod!  I meant to ask Jenny about that – what happened??”

Frankie throws you a heart-stopping wink, one that nearly sends your knees buckling, “Tell you on the way home, querida.”

---

A few hours later, everyone’s packed bags are stowed in their respective cars, the cabins locked, boats put away for the winter, and sheets and laundry stripped to go back to the city to be cleaned.

“Ready to go, City Girl?” grins Frankie, “Bet you can’t wait to get home.”

Buckling your seatbelt and looking fondly at the sweet man who made sure you felt seen and cared for this week, you say, almost wistfully, “It’s not that bad here.”

Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, Frankie nuzzles your nose affectionately with his before putting the car in reverse.  Steering the wheel one-handedly with his other big paw cupping the back of your headrest, he winks, “Cottage country ain’t got nothing on cabin country, am I right, querida?”

You giggle as he straightens out the car and take the hand that Frankie’s holds out to you over the centre console, “Only the cashmere sweaters, but other than that, nothing.”

Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, “An easy fix for next time, City Girl.” 

Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement.  Next time.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 5 Part Two

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You and Joel go to a Shibari class together; an innocent date, or is it?

TW: age gap (Joel 45/reader 22), reader does have some descriptors so more of an OC. Reader has longer hair and Joel can lift her. Mutual pining, kissing. Spoiler triggers below the cut in red.

WC: 8.2k

AN: Ok fiiiiiinnnneeeeee I couldn't wait any longer and I left you all on kind of a cliffhanger. As always, thank you to my lovely @lotusbxtch for reading and encouraging and helping me grow. Thanks @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69 and @joelmillerisapunk for being my lil cheerleaders. @for-a-longlongtime thanks for stoping me from working on that bull rider series LOL. Ok, enjoy this slowly because I haven't even STARTED chapter 6 yet, so I doubt it will be out until late October. Dividers and banners by the oh so talented @saradika-graphics

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: complete sensory deprivation (tied down, blind folded and has hearing blocked), multiple orgasms, denial

Joel

Joel has tried to keep his distance since referring to tonight as a date. He left another large tip for your clean this week and then made sure he was as busy as possible to stop himself from going home to see you. As he coaxed you into drinking the orange juice and the water he kept hearing “it’s a date” over and over again in his mind, and he’d cringe internally. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you had leaped out of that bed and ran home. The thought of you wanting him in that way is ridiculous. Not only because he’s over twice your age, but you came to him for help with building self confidence and for an escape, and then he went and said something so fucking stupid. 

He shakes his head and pulls up his emails, trying to distract himself for what feels like the one hundredth time. Of course he wants to date you, he’d be crazy not to, but he can’t blur those lines. Furthermore, even if there was the slightest chance that you felt the same way he can’t risk breaking your heart the way he’s broken so many others.

She’s going to break yours, old man. Not the other way around.

Wednesday has been absolutely crawling. Time almost mocking him with how slow it’s ticking by. As he goes over the list of tonight's guests, Tess knocks on his small office door at the club.

“Hey,” she says, plopping down in the arm chair across from the desk. “You coming tonight?”

“Of course. Looks like a good turn out. Did the instructor make it in ok?”

“Cap picked her up from the airport yesterday and got her all settled at the hotel. Do you think you’re going to need me tonight?”

Joel cocks an eyebrow at her. He’s known Tess since she was ten. Her and Tommy are the same age, Joel being two years their senior. Aside from a few months when Tess and Tommy were sixteen, the three of them have been inseparable ever since. Tess was usually the undeclared leader of the group due to her bossy nature, but she kept the Miller brothers out of trouble most of the time. 

“What’s wrong, Tess?”

“Nothin’,” she crosses her arms across her chest. “I am the planner, you and Tommy are the personality. I’m fine to stay behind the scenes for this one.”

“You’ve been acting strange since the poker night.”

She rolls her eyes at him. She’s probably the only person ballsy enough to do that to Joel besides Tommy, but Joel’s almost convinced his little brother is more dumb than ballsy. “I’m fine, Joel. The staff is all in good morale, and that’s my department. Remember?”

Joel just stares as she continues, lowering her voice to mock his. “I need you to be the people person. Hire them, train them. I’m not patient enough because I’m a big scary dom who will just want to spank them for not listening. I also can’t plan anything because I have a man brain.”

“Hilarious,” Joel deadpans as Tess laughs at her own jokes. “I’m being serious though, are you sure you're ok?”

“Yes, you don’t need to be concerned about me. I’m actually a little gutted I’m gonna miss it. Tommy told me there’s been a very pretty young lady hanging around you lately.”

Joel puts his reading glasses on with one hand and pointing to his door with the other. “Out.”

You

Joel referring to tonight as a date has been on loop for the last few days. He has this amazing way of shutting off your brain and then leaving you with so many new questions. Either way, when a few more college letters came over the last few days you convinced yourself that right before leaving for the shibari-demonstration-slash-date was the best time to open them. 

Odette and Jamie sit on the couch across from you as you slide open the first letter. The thick eggshell parchment stamped with the Yale logo pops open easily. You close your eyes as you open the paper, the only sound in the room is the thundering of your heart behind your ribs. 

You peel your eyes open and read out loud. “We regret to inform you that you have not…” your voice falls off, fingers shaking as you put it back in the envelope.

“Hey, we expected a few no’s,” Jamie says gently, always the optimist.

Odette takes the other approach, “Their fucking loss, bunch of stuffy old cunts! Next!”

You laugh at the juxtaposition of your friends' responses and reach for the Harvard letter. “We regret to inform you…”

“Keep going babe,” Jamie says softly.

You pick up the bright white Columbia letter. “We regret to inform you…fuck.” You feel the defeat start to creep in, like thick morning fog. It’s suffocating, choking all the happiness and excitement you had for tonight. 

“What the fuck is wrong with these schools!” Odette says, snatching the letters up so she can check for herself. “Do the Toronto one, Canadians are supposed to be nice.”

“I can’t open anymore,” you say as your head falls back into the sofa. The fog starts to spread through your body, shutting you down inch by inch. You know you have to open the rest. You’ll spend the rest of the night wondering what they say if you don’t finish them. “You do it, Jamie.”

She shuffles in her seat uncomfortably. She’s not the kind of girl who likes to disappoint others; she's bright and happy but at this moment she’s the only person that you can take bad news from. As if she can read your thoughts, she grabs the University of Toronto letter. The sound of the envelope popping open slices through you. She clears her throat as she opens the paper and then reads aloud the same sentence you did. The letters from Duke and Notre Dame follow the same painful routine. With each rejection your stomach swirls, nausea building on top of self doubt and anxiety. 

Six out of the eight universities you applied to have turned you down; Berkeley and the University of Austin are your only chances left at reaching your dreams. The silence in the small rental unit has you on edge, so much so that when your phone vibrates beside you you jump. A sunset beach photo from your last trip to California is the background from a text from Cap telling you he’ll be at your doorstep in about twenty minutes. 

“I gotta finish getting ready,” you say, dragging yourself to the bathroom to touch up any makeup and brush your teeth.

“Babe?” Jamie says, following you down the hall. “You wanna stay here instead of going to that mixer?”

The reminder of the lie sends a new wave of nausea through you. Tonight you became a law school reject and an even bigger liar. Don’t forget that you’re also falling in love with an unattainable man, says the glittery pink box. You mentally lift a single finger in its direction, it usually doesn’t turn on you like that. 

“I need the distraction.” You say, deciding that that’s not really a lie.

Your friends look at you with sadness in their eyes and even though you’re sad too, you wish you could tell them about Mister Miller and the club. You know they’d be excited about whatever this thing is and it would really help to have someone to decipher all the moments that live in your mind.

“It’s a date”.

When you walk through the large door from the lobby and into the club, you’re welcomed by a completely different atmosphere. It’s not all dim lights and sexy music like it normally is; instead the overhead lights are on and all the people are dressed in regular clothing or athletic wear and not the sexy outfits they’d normally pick to come here. Joel is no exception, dressed in dark wash jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. You catch the glint of his gold ring while he’s engrossed in deep conversation with a blue and purple haired woman along the edge of the dance floor. As if you’re his due north or the other side of his magnet, after just seconds of being in the same room as him, his eyes collide with yours. He mouths an ‘excuse me’ at the woman without looking away from and his long legs eat up the distance between the two of you. He meets you just before the bar and immediately wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to the nape of your neck, silently guiding your forehead to his strong chest.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” You love how easily he can read you, but you hate that this is the second time this week that he’s seeing you like this. You know you have moments of weakness, but you don’t let anyone see that and you DEFINITELY don’t inconvenience others with your weakness. 

“Hasn’t been my best day, but I really don’t want to talk about it.” You don’t want to dump all of this on him now, not when he looked so excited when you said you’d attend tonight. 

“Ok, I’m here for you if you want to talk about it though. You don’t have to deal with this on your own.” His lips come to the crown of your head and you breathe him in letting his ash and leather scent break down your walls. 

“I didn’t get in,” you mumble and he holds you tighter for a brief second before his hand moves to your chin and tilts up to meet your gaze.

“All of them?” he asks gently but something akin to anger flares in eyes for just a second. 

“Six of them. I haven’t heard from two.” His thumb feels like heaven as it runs along your jaw.

From across the club the blue and purple haired woman, who is now on the stage, claps her hands. “Good evening, everyone! I’m Starr. If you and your brave partners could start making your way to the floor, we can get started right away!”

“Do you want to leave?” Joel says, his warm coffee and chocolate eyes dancing around yours. No one looks at you like that; no one ever asks what you want. This is one of those looks that you wish you could talk to your friends about.

“No,” you say truthfully. “I want to be here with you.”

“I wasn’t going to let you leave without me. Do you want to go somewhere else together?”

You step back and grab his hand, his fingers thread through yours as if you do this everyday, as if this is normal, and you pull him towards the floor. He stands behind you, an arm wrapped protectively around your middle, similar to how he did the first time you went through the voyeur room. Starr introduces herself and her wife and then begins explaining rope safety and terminology like rigger and rope bunny, before launching into a step by step on tying a beautiful star harness across her wifes clothed chest. The two women hand ropes to the person who will be doing the rigging and as the rope lands in Joel’s hand your pussy flutters at the realization that you’re about to become Mister Miller’s rope bunny. You knew that coming here tonight, even if it did include lying to your friends, would help you feel better. The disappointment of being rejected is slowly replaced with an excited anticipation of learning something new with a man who has done nothing but choose you since laid your eyes on each other.

Starr projects step by step instructions up on the back wall of the stage and Joel clears his throat behind you as he begins. The sound of the rope running through his hands as he folds it in half sends a shiver up your spine. You try to distract yourself by clipping your hair up and out of the way. 

“Arms up,” he rasps, and places a light kiss on the soft curve of your neck as he wraps the rope around your ribcage, just below your breasts. You purposely wore a tight t-shirt and leggings tonight. If anyone asks, you’ll say you just assumed it would be easier to be in something form fitting rather than loose, but the truth is that you did some research on Shibari classes and it was recommended to wear clothing that was tight to the body. As he walks around you to make the first diagonal cross of your chest he says, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

You lock your eyes with his as he loops back up, crossing the rope over your other shoulder and walks behind you. “Yes, at least not yet.” 

“Alright,” he says softly, pulling the rope back through the first band he made. “What do you want to talk about then?”

Your daughter. Your wife. The guitars and books of lyrics. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Do you like me or do you like like me? How do you feel about an age gap romance? Your brain races with a million things you could ask, and maybe would ask on a date. However, this is anything but a date, right? A dom and sub don’t date, there are strict rules. He tells you what to do, you do it. You don’t date.

The silence between you two feels like it’s lasted forever, you flinch as you ask the first thing you can think of. “How old are you?”

“Almost forty five. It says that on my profile, sweet girl. For someone who likes research…” His voice trails off. Is he flirting?

“I refuse to look at it in case you try to pawn me off to Tommy again,” you tease. You bite your cheek to hold in all the questions you want to ask as he chuckles behind you. You lift your arms as per the next slide and he brings the rope up towards your armpit as you settle on a neutral topic. “Baseball,” you say flatly.

Joel laughs silently as he walks around your body, the rope coming across to your other armpit and he’s behind you again. “Baseball?”

“Ya, it’s America’s favourite pastime.” Joel's fingers feel warm through the fabric of your shirt as he continues to work the ropes. 

“Ok, so what do you want to discuss about baseball?” He wanders in front of you again, following the instructions perfectly.

You shrug a little, lifting your arms again as you follow along with the slides. “Did you ever play?”

Starr circles around the two of you, “Great job, Joel. You ok, honey? Not too tight anywhere?”

You shake your head no and then you and Joel get lost in each other again. “Yes, I played for most of my childhood. I was pretty good too.”

You chuckle, “Why am I not surprised.”

“What?” he says, half laughing.

“Seems like Joel Miller is good at everything,” you say lightly, almost in admiration. He’s behind you again, feeding the ropes through themselves. The back looks beautifully intricate, and you can see other couples getting frustrated before either Starr or her wife comes and helps them. You continue, “Let me guess, you were like a big all-star pitcher or something?”

“No,” he answers.

“What position did you play then?” You glance down at your chest at the star shape across your chest, the rope scrapes gently on the exposed skin of your neck with the movement. It’s stunning, exactly as the demonstration and the picture. Yep, Joel Miller is good at everything. 

A new voice joins your conversation, “Best first baseman the school has ever seen.”

You crane your neck over your right shoulder towards the source; Tommy. You clench your molars when you see him with Jade; the beautiful icy blonde woman that Joel had tied to his desk the first time you met him. Joel shifts uncomfortably as she flutters her lashes at him. “As I was saying,” Joel huffs in his brother's direction before turning his attention back to you. “I played first base and Tommy was the back catcher. Our mom pretty much put us in any sport she could afford to keep us out of trouble.” 

“That’s kind of fascinating,” you say, looking back towards the stage and trying to get back into the safe little bubble you and Joel have created. 

“I dunno about that, sweet girl.”

The combination of him using that nickname and the feeling of his fingers on your body cause another shiver to roll up your spine, and suddenly it’s just the two of you again. It’s so easy to get lost with Joel, every ounce of that fog from earlier has dissipated. He’s like the warm morning sun, chasing away all the thick haze that coated you in the darkness. “I think this is a safe nickname space only, Sweet Cheeks.”

He swats your bum gently eliciting a giggle to pass your lips before getting back to weaving the rope in and out along your spine. “Careful. Now why is it kind of fascinating?”

“I mean, Tommy played at home plate, you played at first base.”

“I don’t know where you’re going here, Freckles.”

You smile over your shoulder at Joel. “Well, don’t you see the connection? You don’t have sex with your subs, Tommy does. He goes to home plate, you stay at first base.”

Joel arches an eyebrow at you as you flash him a cheeky smile and then he lets out a laugh. A real laugh that sounds like it’s coming straight from his stomach. His big beautiful smile draws up his cheeks causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle. The sound is almost enough to make you weak at the knees. “I swear to god, Freckles, I love the way your brain works.”

The rest of the group finishes off their harnesses and Starr begins the next part, explaining now how to tie the arms around the biceps and secure them to the harness. They hand out the ropes again and you reach behind yourself to criss cross your arms and grasp your opposite elbows. Just as Joel begins folding the rope over in his hands, Jade speaks.

“She sort of hit the nail on the head with that one, Mister Miller.” Envy flares in your eyes as she steps towards Joel, leaning into him. “I can’t wait for tomorrow. I’ve missed you.”

You glance towards Joel, expecting to see him looking angry but his soft eyes meet you with guilt written all over his face. You watch his throat as he swallows hard and the happy, sparkly bubble you built bursts and the fog returns. Your heart drops to your feet, it was too good to be true, you knew it was too good to be true and he almost had you fooled. You don’t think, you just act, you need to get away from this space and all these people as bile rises in your throat.

Your feet feel heavy as you walk quickly toward the voyeur room, slipping past the closed sign that's propped up outside the curtain that conceals it. Darkness surrounds you, the rope harness feels like it’s smothering you as you try to take deep calming breaths. A flash of light from the otherside of the curtain fills the room as someone follows.

“Go away, Joel.” You say quietly, trying to force air past the lump growing in your throat. 

“It’s Tommy.” He says, flicking on a dim light and noting the way you’re pulling at the rope closest to your throat. “Let me untie you so you don’t hurt yourself.”

You step back, a wall slamming down around you. Tommy raises his hands, “Please, just let me untie you so you can breathe.”

You spin slowly, giving your back to him and he approaches. His fingers pulling and working the ropes and the irony of him removing knots as you start to mentally tie yourself up in them is enough to make you nauseous. You retreat into your mind, looking for that stupid box. I fucking told you! You practically scream at the shadow you know it’s hiding in.

“Try to slow your breathing for me,” Tommy says softly as the rope begins to loosen and fall away from your body. Tonight felt too normal, too comfortable. You started to feel like maybe Joel was feeling the same way you do, but now you feel like you’ve been slapped across the face with yet another reminder that you are not enough. Six out eight universities and the man you completely misread. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” It doesn’t come out self deprecating or angrily. Just as if you’re stating a fact, similar to how you’d say you like the colour green. 

“No, this is on me.” The rope falls away from your body and you step away, spinning to face Tommy. “I shouldn’t have said yes when she asked me to bring her here tonight. I assumed Joel had ended it before they were in Europe.”

“What?” You breathe out in disbelief. Even though you can see the rope in Tommy���s hands, it still feels like it’s around your throat.

You wander towards the nearest couch. All those pictures, all those flirty texts and she was there the entire time? You hear your mothers voice again, ‘You might be the smartest one in this town but the real world is going to eat you up and spit you out.’ Nothing has felt more true, especially today. Six schools rejected you, selecting smarter shinier applicants and now the same thing is happening with Joel. You knew you didn’t hold a candle to her, he wanted you to go with Tommy so he could keep her, didn’t he?

‘It’s only you.’ His desperate voice from the day in his office comes out of the shadows of your mind. But it’s not only you. If he didn’t end it with her then it’s her too. You’re constantly in competitions that you have no business being in. 

“No, not ‘they’. Not like that. They were there for different things, not together,” Tommy’s voice has a hint of panic. “...I’m really fucking this night up, aren’t I?”

Just then, Joel and Jade come through the curtain. “Sweet girl….”

“No,” you say, cutting him off with a wave of your hand. You want to yell and scream and ask him what was with all that “it’s only you” bullshit.

“Baby, please, just listen to me.” Joel kneels in front of you and you stand up. His hands come to either side of the couch, keeping you there. “Please?”

You can feel his eyes on you but you keep staring straight ahead, the curtains of all the rental rooms are drawn shut. “Please just go, Joel.”

Jade steps into your line of vision and you can feel the jealousy twisting at your stomach. She’s fucking beautiful. Long icy blonde hair that looks silky to touch, slender limbs and a perfectly symmetrical face. Her make up is done to perfection, and to top it all off she was kissed by an angel in the breast department. 

“I’m sorry. I left the country a few days after I saw you for your birthday celebration. I went to Germany to get married and I wasn’t coming back.” Her eyes go soft for a second as she looks down at her bare left ring finger and then back to you. “Clearly I didn’t do either of those things. I haven’t spoken to Joel and I just assumed our regular time slots still stood.”

Even without looking down, you know Joel hasn’t looked away. From the moment you met him, you’ve been able to feel his gaze on you. It’s one of the things you like so much about him, the way he looks at you. You feel warm and seen, and most importantly, safe in his gaze.

Tommy clears his throat gently and you glance his way. “Ending things with a sub is tricky. It has to be done in person. I know Joel better than anyone else, he ended things with everyone else. He’s gonna beat the shit out of me for this, but he’s crazy about you and he’s only ever looked at one other person the way he looks at you.”

“Tommy,” Jade's voice cracks as she says his name. “I think you should untie me so I can leave. I really am sorry, to all of you.”

You watch the two of them disappear back into the main area of the club before you finally allow yourself to look down at Joel. His eyes are big and soft, he looks so vulnerable. Is this real though? When you think about how easily he can slide on his dominant mask you aren’t sure what you can and can’t trust, and that’s really fucking horrible considering trust is the most important thing between a sub and dom. He could be lying, he gains blow jobs and doing whatever else he wants to your body by keeping this up. 

But what does Tommy gain from telling you what he just did? Tommy has no skin in the game here.

Joel  

His heart is flying wildly behind his chest, blood coursing through his ears. He never thought he was going to see Jade again. Neither of them talked about it really, but after that session that you walked in on she canceled the next one and told him she was moving to be with her fiance in Germany and was getting married. He continues to look up at you; the ever growing pinch in his neck be damned, he’s not looking away. Even at this angle you manage to take his breath away. It feels like hours have gone by when you finally speak.

“I thought it was only me,” it comes out as a whisper and immediately shatters the little bits that were left of his composure. 

“It is, sweet girl. I promise you it is.”

“I want to believe you,” your voice is so calm. He doesn’t deserve you being calm right now. Or does he? You came into this very methodical. Maybe these are just sub-dom transactions to you.

“What can I do?” He says hopefully. “I’ll do anything you need, sweet girl.”

You let out a shaky breath and he can see the wall building behind your eyes, that fun goofy girl who isn’t afraid to crack a joke is slowly locking herself away. He prepares himself for you to tell him this is over, or that you need time. He reminds himself that this was always going to end in heartbreak for him, so may as well get it over with now instead of when he’s fully in love with you, before he’s learned how those warm walls of your pussy feel against his cock. Because there really will be no coming back from that if that happens.

As he tightens the muscles in his core, physically preparing for the metaphorical blow to the gut he watches your long lashes flutter shut and when you open your eyes again the wall is gone. The shimmering pools of the eyes he’s enamored by are back and relief washes over him. 

“Nothing, Mister Miller,” your voice is saccharine sweet. “Trust is the most important thing between a sub and their dom. I can’t let my own anxiety ruin this, but I might just be a bit guarded until I’ve calmed all those thoughts.”

He whispers your name, biting back a groan as your hands meet his hair. “I’m so sorry that happened, baby girl.”

“I know. So am I. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. It’s just…”

“No, you can be jealous. I told you one thing and -.”

You tug at the strands of his hair and shush him. “I’m not done,” your voice is stern. Joel isn’t used to hearing your tone like that and he suddenly feels his chest swelling with pride. This sweet bubbly person in front of him is morphing into a confident badass. That’s probably the exact tone you’ll use in boardrooms or courtrooms when other lawyers try to talk over you and he can only hope that one day he’ll get to witness that. “I shouldn’t have gotten jealous, but I really like the way I feel around you. It’s selfish of me, but I’d like to keep feeling like this for the few months I have left here before I leave for law school.”

Selfish. He lets that word wash over him. The most selfless person he’s ever known is worried about being selfish? No, he thinks, she deserves this. Hearing you say that you’re leaving makes him feel like his chest is caving in on itself. He’ll deal with the inevitable heartbreak when you leave him. He knows those rejection letters were hard on you, but he helped you to feel better and he’s going to hold on to that and give you that for as long as he possibly can. 

Your fingers release his hair and he watches you walk the few steps to where the rope Tommy untied for you lays on the floor. He licks his lips as you bend to pick it up, eyes trailing over the delicious curves of your ass. “It would be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You turn, walking back towards where he’s kneeling and holding the ropes out to him you say, “Is the workshop over?”

He stands up, his fingers grazing yours as he takes the rope. Electricity tingles up his forearms at the feel of your soft skin. Your body is so close to his that he can feel your soft warmth radiating against him. You being at this proximity immediately put him at ease.

“No, there’s a bodysuit tutorial right now,” he says. You nod, stepping around him. Suddenly, Joel grabs your elbow to stop you, lowering his lips to your ear, and lowering his voice to that gravelly tone he knows you love, he rasps, “I should punish you for letting another dom untie what’s mine.”

You smirk up at him, “I’d like to see you try, Sweet Cheeks.”

You

Joel works silently around you and you lose yourself for a bit in the events that unfolded tonight. Joel has knelt in front of you before, but never like that. The sad, helpless look in his eyes, the slight slump of the shoulders. He was submitting to you, and when your fingers met his scalp, he leaned into your touch. The way his body melted at your touch was intoxicating. He wasn’t Mister Miller in that room tonight, he was Joel, and the dichotomy of this man is astounding. 

After about thirty minutes of Joel twisting, turning and pulling he has your upper half tied into a zigzagged bodysuit of rope. Joel steps in front of you and bends slightly to reach between your legs. When he brings the rope between your thighs and as he feeds it through the bottom of the chest piece, the seam of your leggings brushes against your clit. You jolt at the contact, your cheeks flushing crimson as Joel's eyes meet yours in a flash of onyx and honey. He begins shaping the bottom part of the bodysuit, bent in front of you the entire time and locking eyes with yours every time he tugs the ropes into place. 

You glance nervously around the room to see if anyone else is having the same reaction. You expected this night to be fun and silly, the way a date should be. And it was for a while, but now it’s taken a very erotic turn. The blush of your cheeks warms down your chest and neck as you hold off on what could be a very vocal orgasm in front of a room of people who you don’t necessarily want to witness it.

Joel finally finishes the body suit and moves to stand behind you, his patchy facial hair brushes the shell of your ear as he whispers, his voice full of gravel, “Hands behind your back, my sweet girl. We aren’t done.”

A shiver races up your spine and your arms fly back. “So eager,” Joel says softly, grazing his teeth along the lobe of your ear, adding gasoline to the small fire that’s been building between your thighs.  

You’re sure the arm restraints only take about three minutes to complete, but it feels like hours. The three knots that lay around your wrists, forearms, and biceps keep your posture nice and tall, and your breasts pushed up through the body suit. Once he’s finished, Joel spins you to face him, and that rope works its way in between the lips of your now absolutely soaked pussy. You squeeze your thighs together, the soft expression on his face only intensifying the growing ache. He’s such a fucking tease, you think, and now he’s looking at you as if you put the stars in the sky. Finally, his dark brown eyes settle on yours and he gives you a closed lip smile.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

“I jus’ thought that I’d go all caveman seein’ you like this,” he steps into you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other tugging on the rope near your waist, which jiggles the rope that has you on edge. Joel’s voice lowers, this next part just for you to hear. “But you just look so beautiful.”

He tugs up on the rope and pleasure courses through you as you gasp quietly. He gives you that sexy smirk that makes that dimple carve into his cheek. 

Yep, he’s a fucking tease. The little box says, confirming your thoughts. 

“You like that, sweet girl?”

He tugs again and your forehead falls to his chest. “Please, Mister Miller,” you whisper into his expensive cotton t-shirt. 

Starr interrupts the two of you, but you can’t peel yourself away from Joel right now. The slightest move of that rope might make you explode. “Well, based on that reaction I’d say you tied it just right, Joel.”

“Thank you for coming, Starr. I’m sure we’ll host one of these again soon. Tommy is by the bar, he can help you kick everyone out.”

“Joel,” she says, a slight hint of amusement in her now hushed voice. “Your rope bunny is on the verge of having an orgasm, go.”

With that he hoists you over his shoulder and walks towards the door that leads to the private rooms. “Fuckfuck, I’m gonna -” you whisper into his broad back and squeeze your thighs tighter as Joel walks. 

The second the door shuts, separating you from the others Joel puts you on your feet and jiggles the rope around your waist. “Come, baby.”

You fall into him for support, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you up as stars blur your vision. “That feel good, my little rope bunny?” 

“Yes - oh god, yes.” Your arms pull at the ropes restraining them behind your back and you can’t hold it anymore. Your orgasm practically slams through you as you gasp and moan into Joel's broad chest. “Fuck, Mister Miller.”

 “You’re so beautiful when you let go for me. I’ll never get sick of watching you like this.” He continues to work the rope as your high crests and your legs start to go weak and boneless below you.

“I can’t…p-please Mis - Fuck.” Joel lifts your lax and quivering body over his shoulder again and makes his way to his room, placing you at the foot of the bed, spinning you and pushing between your shoulder blades until your chest meets the mattress.

“Spread your legs,” he commands and you listen, moving your feet to be shoulder width apart. He wraps two cuffs around your ankles, and attaches them to the bottom of the bed posts before doing the same to the ropes around your arms. You’re trapped, stuck bent over the end of the bed and even though you’re fully clothed under all of these ropes, this is easily the hottest thing you’ve ever done. “Fuck me. How are you so goddamn sexy even when you’re fully clothed.”

You hear Joel’s footsteps around the room, gathering whatever he has decided to use on you tonight before you can feel him behind you. “Sweet girl, I do believe I read that you would be interested in sensory deprivation. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

“Do I have your consent to blindfold you and then have you listen to music in noise canceling headphones?”

Fire erupts in your stomach, your core pulsing at the thought of him doing whatever he wants to you. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

A silky black blind fold slips over your head, Joel's large body covering your back. “What’s your safeword?” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“Stegosaurus.” Just once you’d like that to not leave your lips in the whiny, desperate tone it does when he asks you that question. 

“Good girl,” he praises before the plush headphones cover your ears. All you see is black, all you hear is soft decorative piano music, and all you feel is the warmth of Joel over your buzzing skin. There’s not a single thought in your mind, everything is silent. This is what you need and you start to worry that you’ll become addicted to the way Joel makes you feel everything while thinking nothing. 

The warmth of his body disappears from you and you whimper at the loss. Your eyes clench closed as if that will help you be able to find him. A thin, pulsing vibrator hits the back of your thigh and you jump. Joel's large hands rubs your opposite hip and every muscle relaxes under his touch. The vibrator pulses softly as he moves it up your thigh, tickling along your hip, and then down the other leg. You can’t hear the sounds that you’re making but you’re sure they’re desperate, needy gasps.

After teasing your arms Joel slips something small and hard between your body and the rope that’s been torturously teasing at your clit before you feel him pull away. You adjust so your forehead is resting on the mattress before it dips with the weight of him sitting beside your head. His warm fingers wrap around your neck and he kneads the muscles.

“Mmmm, thank you Mister Miller,” you hum. 

Whatever Joel slipped against your clit comes to life, a dull vibration that is sure to be your undoing has you attempting to arch your back, but you can’t move. Your breathing quickens, short little puffs of air passing your lips. 

“I’m gonna come,” you murmur quietly, or at least you think it’s quiet since you can’t hear yourself or anything else. Joel’s strong fingers continue the delicious swirling patterns up and down the sides of your neck as you begin to shake. “Oh god - I’m so close!”

Just as you’re about to slam head first into another orgasm the vibrating stops and Joel’s fingers disappear from your skin. “No,” and this time you know it wasn’t a whisper or a whimper.

The mattress jostles and then you feel Joel behind you again. A hand comes to one of yours, coaxing it out of the fist you’ve apparently clenched before doing the same to the other. The vibrating starts stronger this time and both his hands come to yours, his thumbs massaging at your palms. It doesn’t take long this time before you’re right on that edge again.

“Fuck, Mister Miller. Puh-please don’t stop!” Your legs start the familiar shake that happens right when you’re about to tip over the edge and he doesn’t follow your wishes. The hand massage stops, quickly followed by the vibrator being switched off. You groan in frustration and he lays a quick, sharp spank over your legging clad right ass cheek. “Hnnng - sorry.”

You can’t be certain, but based on the warm puffs hitting your core you’re pretty sure he’s knelt down behind you. The vibrator comes to life again, stronger than the last two times and his hands work at massaging the muscles along the back of your thighs. This is torture; wonderful euphoric torture and as much as you want it end, you also don’t ever want him to stop making you feel this way. 

You let your eyes flutter open behind the blindfold, it’s still just as dark but you see that little pink sparkly box. The one that’s overflowing with emotion for Joel. You should push it back into the shadows or light it on fire, but instead you let it come out of the shadows completely. You see your hands reaching for the lid just as the white hot pleasure in your core gets close to the breaking point.

“Please please…Mister Miller - fuck!” You whimper and whine as it begins to burn hotter and then it’s gone and it feels like the air is being sucked forcefully out of your lungs. 

“Nonono, I can’t. Please, I need you..” Joel's large body is across your back in a second. The hard bulge in pants pressing against your ass and the memory of how good he felt and tasted in your mouth the last time has saliva pooling under your tongue. You swallow hard as one of the padded ear pieces is lifted from your ear.

Joel’s voice is deep and gruff as he says, “What do you need, my sweet girl?”

The little box of feelings vibrates at him calling you his and you kick it back into the shadows. “I need to come, Mister Miller.”

“That right? How bad?” He says teasingly before placing a feather light kiss on that sensitive spot right below your ear.

“So bad. Please, it hurts, Mister Miller.” You are pouting into the fluffy sheets, a completely whiny mess, and you realize that you’re always a mess for him. Be it a horny or depraved one, a whiny or a pouty one, he doesn’t care and if anything you think he likes it that way, likes you that way. “I want to hear you. I miss your dirty talk, please, baby!”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I should spank you until you can’t sit tomorrow for calling me anything but Mister Miller. You know that, right?” 

“I can’t think straight. I’m sorry, just please. Please!”

He whips the headphones off of you and the vibrator hits at an intensity you have never felt before. Your pornographic scream fills the room. His large body above yours intensifies everything that was already killing you.

“That what you need, huh?”

You cry out and try to say yes but you’re sure it’s all just an incoherent mix of sounds at this point. 

“God damn, baby girl. You should see yourself right now. All tied up in knots that I made. The way your leggings hug the curves of your hips and soft, creamy thighs. You’re going to be the death of me one day.”

Tears start to flow behind your blindfold as the pleasure almost becomes too much, you haven’t come yet, and at this point you aren’t sure if you’ll survive it if you do. You have half a mind to ask Joel if an orgasm can physically split you in two because that is how you feel right now. 

“I’m - oh god - I’m…” You try to form the words but you can’t. 

One of Joel’s hands slips between his front and your tied up arms, his hand wrapping tightly around yours. His lips come to your ear as whispers. “I got you, sweet girl, just let go for me.”

“Need to see you,” you say between gasps of air and the pleasure begins to burn in your. 

Joel peels the blind fold off. You blink him into focus, his warm eyes searching your face. “Let go, you’re ok.”

As per usual, it’s his words that seem to be that final push and you let your orgasm consume you. It starts as a cold spark, a shiver up your spine and then heat flushes through every since cell in your body. You moan and writhe beneath Joel who whispers your praises like a prayer. Talking you through the intensity of the feeling. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you’re sure your panties, leggings and the rope are ruined.

“I can’t!” You gasp and Joel slows the vibration to help you ride out the decresendo of your orgasm. As the jolts of your body slow, he follows suit; the vibrator going to a dull blip and eventually nothing. Joel's thumb traces soothing patterns on the hand he’s still holding between your bodies. You take a deep and shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“Are you ok, angel?” he asks quietly and goosebumps somehow spread along your too hot body.

“Better than ok,” you say with a small smile.

Joel’s lips meet yours, soft and pliant and so full of passion. Your eyes shut as you part your lips for him and when your tongue strokes gently against his he lets out a small whimper that causes your pulse to leap. Mentally, you grab a bigger box, stuffing it with the realization that you’re falling for this man. But you will deal with that later, right now you just need to let yourself have something that is for, well… yourself.

Joel 

He breaks the kiss, even though he doesn’t want to. Even though he knows that by breaking this kiss it’s only going to mean you going home sooner.  “I need to get you out of these ropes and get some sugar into you.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as his nimble fingers work to undo your restraints, then the intricate knots that bind your arms, and lastly the bodysuit. He really did think you looked stunning all tied up. He didn’t plan for this night to go the way it did, but when he saw the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes glazed over he couldn’t resist giving you what he knew you needed. He stays close, one hand protectively on your hip as you crawl onto the bed. Once he has you seated, he pulls a fuzzy grey blanket out from a basket beside the night stand and then opens the small fridge to grab you an orange juice and water.

He cracks the top of the orange juice. “Drink this for me, please.”

He watches your eyes do a quick half roll but you don’t fight him, fingers just barely grazing his as you take the juice from him. “I had fun tonight,” you say between sips as he walks to grab the coconut oil. 

Joel stands beside you. “So did I, sweetheart. Arm, please.”

You take the orange juice in your left hand and give him your right. Both of you watch as he puts oil on the few pink marks the ropes left behind. “Do you think I should change my safeword?”

He lifts one eyebrow at you and as he tends to your other arm says, “Why do you ask that.”

“I don’t know. It’s just…well, originally that little dinosaur on your coffee maker seemed so out of place. It intrigued me. Your home is beautiful, but the parts you let people see don’t give away any hints about you, except for that little dinosaur. But now that I know the whole story, it just seems too special of an item to be tied to what we do.”

“I don’t think we need to change it. You’re right, that little stegosaurus is special to me.” He sits sideways on the bed, grabbing the empty orange juice container and handing you the water. His jaw flexes once before he continues, “But so are you. I love that you felt a connection to that part of me. Ultimately, it’s your safe word, sweet girl, so you can make it anything you want, but I think it’s perfect for us.”

The soft look in your eyes as he speaks is almost enough to kill him, and when your lips twitch up ever so slightly at his words he knows he’s done for. He shouldn’t fall for you, especially since he’s sure there’s no way you’d ever feel the same way, but he can’t not fall for you.

Your name passes his lips with a nervous tremble, because he knows that what he’s about to say next is going to be his undoing. If you say yes to this next thing, if he continues spending actual time with you, he’s done.

“Ya?” you say before sucking your bottom lip through your teeth.

“Friday night is the five year anniversary party for the club. It’s a black tie event for all the VIP guests. Would you like to accompany me?”

He watches as your eyes land on your lap, your lips pressing together as if to suppress a smile. When your gaze floats back up to his, your eyes give you away. Try as you might to hide your expressions with him; he'll always know when you’re happy based on the glitter of your eyes.

“I’d really like that, Mister Miller.”

His forehead meets yours. “This might be a Sweet Cheeks moment.”

Thank you soooo much for reading! Remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for future chapters xo.

Next Chapter

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, jakcson era, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, minors dni

word count: 15k

summary: joel saves you and brings you to jackson, after healing you become the local librarian of the community.

warnings: some angst with happy ending, mutual pining, female masturbation, slow burn, reader's name is Ash + bisexual, oral (both receiving), heavy petting, piv, dirty talk, soft dom!joel, submissive!reader, reader enjoys bands and books, blood mention, canon typical violence, some spoilers for part 2 (for ellie)

a/n: this was commissioned by @ashleyfilm 💜 thank you so much for being patient with me and supporting me!

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the rugged terrain of Wyoming. Joel rode slowly, his horse's hooves crunching softly on the gravel path. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, a refreshing change from the stale, musty confines of Jackson’s walls. Tall trees bordered the path, their leaves rustling gently in the mild breeze, creating a soothing symphony that mingled with the distant calls of birds. The sky stretched wide above, a brilliant canvas of blues and pinks, with streaks of orange signaling the approach of dusk.

In the distance, the snow-capped peaks of the mountains loomed majestically, their silent, steadfast presence a reminder of nature's unyielding power. The grass swayed gently in the wind, patches of wildflowers adding bursts of color to the verdant landscape. Joel could hear the faint trickle of a stream nearby, its clear waters winding through the forest, a lifeline in this vast, untamed wilderness. The tranquility of the scene was deceptive, masking the dangers that lurked just beyond the tree line.

Joel’s eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced precision, taking in every detail. The gnarled bark of ancient trees, the glint of sunlight on the surface of the stream, the fleeting shadows cast by birds overhead – everything was noted, cataloged, filed away in his mind. The world outside Jackson was a place of both breathtaking beauty and constant peril, and Joel knew better than to let his guard down. Still, in moments like this, it was hard not to appreciate the raw, untouched splendor of the land around him.

Joel dismounted from his horse, the reins held loosely in his hand as he walked the rest of the way on foot. He preferred the quiet that walking afforded, the ability to move silently through the underbrush, alert to every rustle and crack in the woods around him. The air was filled with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the fading light painted long shadows across the forest floor.

As he moved deeper into the trees, a noise caught his attention – the low murmur of voices, urgent and panicked. Joel’s instincts kicked in, and he crouched low, moving stealthily toward the source of the commotion. Each step was measured, his boots barely making a sound on the soft ground. The voices grew louder, more distinct, and he could make out the gruff tones of men in distress.

Joel reached the edge of a small clearing and paused, hidden behind a thick oak tree. He peered around the trunk, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. Three men stood in a loose circle, their backs to him, all focused on something on the ground. Their postures were tense, movements agitated. Joel’s gaze shifted, and he saw what held their attention – a woman, unconscious and sprawled in the grass, her dark hair matted with blood.

Nearby, the bodies of two raiders lay crumpled, their lifeless forms testament to a recent struggle. Blood stained the ground around them, dark and viscous. The men standing over her seemed distraught, their faces pale and drawn. One of them knelt beside her, checking for a pulse, while the others scanned the perimeter, their eyes darting nervously.

Joel crept closer, using the trees and underbrush for cover. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the danger that could erupt at any moment. He could hear the men speaking now, their words sharp and anxious.

"Fucking bitch went feral," one of them hissed, his voice trembling.

"Yeah, these types are the worst," the man kneeling beside the girl replied. "They’ll do anything to survive, even when they’re outnumbered."

"Well, it’ll be easier to make use of her now," another said, his voice filled with anger and fear. "But look at them. She took them out, or at least put up one hell of a fight."

Joel's eyes lingered on the unconscious woman. She was small, curvy even in her battered state, and dressed in dark clothing. Despite the blood and grime, there was a fierceness about her that spoke of resilience and strength. He felt a pang of something – concern, perhaps, or admiration for her courage. But then he noticed something else: one of the men standing over her had drawn a knife.

"Let’s not take a chance and kill her now," the man with the knife said, his voice hard. "Then we can make use of her."

Joel’s jaw tightened. He knew these types – survivors who looked out for themselves first, willing to abandon those in need if it meant their own safety. Normally, he might have looked the other way, rationalizing it as the harsh reality of their world. But something about the girl struck a chord deep within him, a fierce need to protect her that he couldn’t explain.

Without another thought, Joel acted. He slipped his revolver from its holster, the weight familiar and comforting in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from his hiding place, weapon raised. "Put the knife down," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

The men spun around, eyes wide with shock and fear. The one with the knife hesitated, then lunged at Joel. In a swift, practiced motion, Joel fired, the shot echoing through the trees. The man fell, clutching his chest, his knife clattering to the ground.

The other two men reacted, one drawing a gun while the other tried to grab the girl. Joel moved quickly, taking aim and firing again. The second man dropped, blood blooming on his shirt. The last man, realizing the fight was lost, turned and fled into the woods.

Joel lowered his gun, breathing heavily, and approached the girl. She was still unconscious, her pulse weak and erratic. He felt that strange pull again, a fierce need to protect her. He quickly checked her for any serious injuries, then lifted her gently in his arms. 

He carried her back to his horse, securing her in front of him. With a final glance at the clearing, he urged his horse forward, heading back towards Jackson. The girl’s head lolled against his chest, and he could feel the faint rise and fall of her breath. He didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her, but he was determined to get her to safety. As the forest closed in around them, Joel’s thoughts were a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his arms.

Joel rode through the thickening twilight, the girl's limp body held securely in his arms. The rhythmic motion of the horse and the steady beat of her faint pulse against his chest did little to calm his racing thoughts. He found himself plagued by a storm of emotions he couldn’t quite name. Usually, the sight of another person in peril would elicit a practiced detachment, a necessary survival mechanism in this brutal world. But this time, something was different.

As they neared Jackson, Joel’s mind kept returning to the clearing – the dead raiders, the unconscious girl, the inexplicable urge to save her. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts, but they clung to him, persistent and unyielding. His grip on the reins tightened as he urged his horse faster, the town’s gates coming into view, the welcoming lights a stark contrast to the darkness encroaching on the forest.

The gates creaked open as he approached, familiar faces of the night guards registering surprise at the sight of Joel carrying an injured woman. He gave them a brief nod, too focused on his task to engage in any explanations. He directed his horse towards the infirmary, the only place in Jackson equipped to handle such emergencies.

"Doc! Get the doc!" he shouted as he dismounted, carefully cradling the girl in his arms. A flurry of movement followed as people rushed to help. The infirmary door swung open, and Joel stepped inside, the warm, sterile smell a sharp contrast to the cold, earthy scent of the woods.

"Over here!" Dr. Allen called, clearing a space on one of the cots. Joel laid the girl down gently, stepping back as the medical team sprang into action. His hands, now free, trembled slightly. He clenched them into fists, trying to steady himself.

Dr. Allen, a middle-aged woman with keen eyes and a calm demeanor, began her examination immediately. She worked with swift precision, checking the girl’s vitals, assessing her injuries. Joel watched from a distance, every muscle in his body taut with worry.

"She’s stable, but barely," Dr. Allen said, glancing up at Joel. "What happened out there?"

Joel exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Found her out near the old logging road. Raiders got to her, but she fought back. Took down a couple of them before I got there."

Dr. Allen nodded, focusing back on her patient. "She’s got a strong will to survive. That’s good. She’s going to need it."

Joel hovered near the doorway, his eyes never leaving the girl. He felt an intense, inexplicable need to ensure she was safe, to see her through this. The room buzzed with activity as the medical team cleaned her wounds, administered fluids, and worked to stabilize her condition. Joel’s worry gnawed at him, an unfamiliar sensation that left him feeling exposed and raw.

Hours seemed to feel like days as he waited, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. Tommy appeared at some point, a concerned look on his face as he approached Joel.

"Hey," Tommy said softly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. "You okay?"

Joel nodded stiffly. "Yeah, just… worried about her."

Tommy glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "You don’t even know her."

"I know," Joel replied, his voice low. "But I couldn’t just leave her there."

Tommy gave him a knowing look, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You did the right thing. She’s in good hands now."

The night wore on, the medical team’s efforts began to show results. The girl’s breathing steadied, her pulse grew stronger. Dr. Allen finally stepped back, wiping her brow.

"She’s going to make it," she announced, and the tension in the room visibly lessened. Joel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him.

"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Dr. Allen nodded. "She’ll need rest and care, but she’s a fighter. She’ll pull through."

Joel settled into a chair by her bedside, watching over her as she slept. The worry that had plagued him since he found her eased slightly, replaced by a determined resolve. He didn’t understand why he felt such a connection to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would be there for her, whatever it took.

As dawn broke over Jackson, casting a soft glow through the infirmary windows, Joel remained by her side, haunted by thoughts he couldn’t quite comprehend but resolute in his newfound purpose.

He remained by her side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but unwilling to leave her alone. The infirmary had quieted down, the initial rush of activity giving way to a more subdued atmosphere. 

When the first light of dawn seeped through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, Joel's thoughts drifted to the moments before he found her. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the woman lying unconscious, the dead raiders around her, the way she had fought so fiercely to survive. There was something about her, a strength and determination that resonated with him deeply.

Tommy returned, bringing a steaming cup of coffee. He handed it to Joel, who accepted it gratefully. "How's she doing?" Tommy asked, his voice hushed.

"Better," Joel replied, his eyes never leaving the girl. "Dr. Allen said she’s going to make it, but she needs rest."

Tommy nodded, pulling up a chair next to Joel. "You should get some rest too, brother. You’ve been up all night."

Joel shook his head. "I’ll rest when I know she’s out of the woods. Until then, I’m staying right here."

Tommy sighed but didn’t argue. He knew better than to try and change Joel’s mind once it was made up. Instead, he settled into his chair, offering silent support. The two brothers sat in companionable silence, the weight of the night’s events hanging heavily between them.

A while later, the infirmary door opened again, and Maria walked in, her face a mix of concern and curiosity. "Heard you had quite the night," she said, her gaze shifting from Joel to the woman on the bed.

"Yeah," Joel replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Found her just in time. She’s a fighter, though."

Maria smiled softly and approached the bedside, looking at the unconscious girl. "Seems like she’ll fit right in around here. We could use more fighters."

Joel nodded, a sense of agreement settling over him. He didn’t know what lay ahead for her, but he was certain she had a place in Jackson. Maria turned to Joel, her eyes searching his face.

"You’ve been here all night?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," Joel admitted, his voice low. "Couldn’t leave her alone."

Maria exchanged a glance with Tommy, a silent understanding passing between them. "You’ve done enough for now, Joel. Let us take over for a bit. You need some rest."

Joel hesitated, his eyes lingering. "I can’t. Not yet."

Maria sighed, but there was no frustration in her expression, only compassion. "Alright, but at least sit down. We’ll stay with you."

Joel nodded and He settled back into his chair, his eyes never straying far from her face. Tommy and Maria took seats nearby, their presence a comforting reminder that he wasn’t alone in this.

At one point, Maria leaned over to Tommy and whispered, "I’ve never seen Joel this concerned about a stranger before."

Tommy nodded, his eyes on Joel. "Yeah, it’s unusual. But I think she means something to him, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet."

Maria glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "Maybe she’s what he needs. Someone to remind him that there’s still good worth fighting for."

Tommy squeezed Maria’s hand, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. Let’s just hope she pulls through."

As evening approached, she began to stir, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to wake up. Joel leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest.

Slowly, her eyes opened, dark and filled with confusion. She blinked several times, trying to focus on her surroundings. When her gaze finally landed on Joel, there was a flicker of recognition, followed by a mix of relief and apprehension.

"Hey there," Joel said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."

She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who…?"

"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re going to be okay."

She nodded weakly, her eyes drifting shut again. She was still exhausted, her body demanding more rest. Joel felt a sense of relief wash over him. She was awake, and she knew she was safe.

Tommy and Maria watched the exchange with quiet interest, noting the tenderness in Joel’s voice and the protective way he watched over the girl.

"Looks like she’s in good hands," Maria said softly, her eyes meeting Joel’s. "You did good, Joel."

Joel nodded, his expression resolute. "Just want to make sure she’s okay."

As night fell, Joel remained, his thoughts a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his care. Tommy and Maria eventually left, their reassurances lingering in the air.

Joel knew that whatever the future held, he was committed to seeing this through. He didn’t fully understand the connection he felt to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would protect her, no matter what.

***

You drifted in and out of consciousness, your mind a haze of pain and confusion. Each time you woke, the world around you shifted in and out of focus, as if you were seeing it through frosted glass. Your body ached with a deep, relentless throb that seemed to come from every part of you.

Voices echoed around you, muffled and distant, as though they were coming from underwater. You could barely make out the words, but you remembered men shouting, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. The memories came in fragments, each one more disjointed than the last.

Amidst the chaos, there was a moment of clarity, a fleeting glimpse of a man with a hard, weathered face, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and something else—concern, maybe? His face blurred as your vision faded, and you slipped back into the darkness.

The next time you woke, it was to a different sensation. You were being carried, held tightly against a warm chest. The rhythmic motion of walking jostled you gently, and you could hear the steady beat of a heart beneath your ear. The scent of sweat, leather, and something comforting enveloped you, grounding you in the moment.

You tried to open your eyes, to see who was carrying you, but your eyelids felt like they were made of lead. All you could do was rest your head against the warmth, feeling a strange sense of safety despite the pain that racked your body.

The world shifted again, and you found yourself lying on something soft—a bed, maybe? There were more voices now, urgent but less panicked than before. Hands touched you, checking your injuries, and you flinched at the pain. You heard someone speaking close by, their voice low and soothing, but the words were lost to you.

***

You slipped in and out of consciousness, each time catching fleeting glimpses of your surroundings. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls. Sometimes, you saw the man from before, sitting close by, his eyes never leaving you. Other times, you saw different faces—concerned, caring, but always strangers.

Pain flared up again, pulling you under, and you felt yourself drifting away once more. The last thing you remembered before the darkness claimed you was the feeling of a rough hand gently brushing your hair back, the touch surprisingly tender.

***

As the days passed, those glimpses began to clear. The man was always there, watching over you, his presence a constant in your fractured reality. You didn’t know who he was, but in your moments of lucidity, you felt a strange connection to him, as if he were a lifeline pulling you back from the brink.

Eventually, the pain started to recede, replaced by a heavy exhaustion that clung to your bones. You were still weak, but the moments of consciousness grew longer, and the world around you began to make more sense. You could hear conversations now, snippets of words that pieced together a picture of where you were and what had happened.

"... found her just in time," someone said.

"She’s a fighter," another voice replied, filled with a warmth that made your chest tighten.

You opened your eyes fully for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and the man’s face came into focus. He was sitting beside your bed, his expression a mixture of relief and weariness.

"Hey there," he said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."

You tried to speak, but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who...?"

"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re gonna be okay."

You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting shut again. You were still exhausted, your body demanding more rest. But for the first time since the attack, you felt a flicker of hope. You were safe, and someone was looking out for you.

And as you slipped back into sleep, you held onto that thought, letting it anchor you against the darkness.

***

The faces of Tommy, Maria, and Ellie became familiar presences around you. Each time you woke, they were there, offering quiet reassurances and gentle smiles that helped ease the lingering fear in your chest. They treated you with a kindness that felt foreign yet comforting, their presence a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you vaguely remembered.

Tommy, with his calm demeanor and steady voice, sat by your bedside, occasionally sharing stories about life in Jackson and cracking jokes that brought fleeting smiles to your lips. Maria, whose warmth and strength seemed to radiate from her, checked on you with a motherly concern, ensuring you had everything you needed. And Ellie, vibrant and spirited, chattered away about books, movies, and the world beyond Jackson, her enthusiasm infectious.

Their support made you feel less like an outsider and more like a welcomed part of their community. They didn’t pry into your past or demand answers to questions you weren’t ready to answer. Instead, they simply offered their friendship and a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were searching for.

One afternoon, as you were well enough to sit up in bed, Joel walked in carrying a stack of books he found in the makeshift library of Jackson. He placed the books on the bedside table and offered you a small, reassuring smile.

"Thought you might like these," he said, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of concern. "Heard you were into movies and books."

You nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Joel. It means a lot."

He nodded in return, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable while you were healin’."

You appreciated his care, sensing there was more behind his actions than mere kindness. But before you could dwell on it further, Joel began to explain what happened, piecing together the fragments of your memory with the events he witnessed.

"You were out there, near the outskirts," Joel began, his voice steady. "A group of raiders attacked you. They... they were about to... but I showed up just in time."

You swallowed hard, the pieces starting to fit together in your mind. The shouts, the gunfire, the overwhelming sense of fear—all of it began to make sense now, though the details were still murky.

"You saved my life," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his actions settled heavily on your shoulders, mixing gratitude with a profound sense of vulnerability.

Joel shook his head, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. "Just did what anyone would have done."

But you knew better. Not everyone would have risked their own safety to intervene, especially in a world where survival often meant turning a blind eye. Joel chose differently, and his decision brought you here, to safety and healing.

As Joel stood there, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of your thoughts, you felt a surge of gratitude and something else—a growing connection that went beyond words. It was as if fate had brought you together, intertwining your lives in ways neither of you fully understood.

***

Slowly regaining strength each day, Joel’s visits became a steady rhythm in your recovery. It started with small gestures—him checking in on you, bringing fresh bandages or a cup of tea. But it was the mornings that stood out the most.

Every morning without fail, Joel arrived with a small bouquet of wildflowers he had gathered from the outskirts of Jackson. He placed them in a makeshift vase by the window, the delicate blooms adding a splash of color to the sterile hospital room. The gesture was simple yet meaningful, a reminder of life and beauty amidst the harshness of your world.

You watched him silently as he arranged the flowers with care, his hands gentle yet purposeful. There was a quiet intensity about him in those moments, a vulnerability he rarely showed to others. And as he turned to you with a soft smile, you felt a flutter of something deeper than gratitude—an unspoken connection that grew stronger with each passing day.

You began to talk more during his visits, sharing stories and snippets of your pasts. Joel spoke sparingly about Sarah, his daughter, and the pain of losing her. You listened attentively, offering words of comfort when the memories threatened to overwhelm him. In turn, you shared glimpses of your own life before the outbreak—memories of family, friends, and a world that now seemed like a distant dream.

Your conversations flowed easily, punctuated by moments of shared laughter and quiet understanding. There was a comfort in Joel’s presence, a familiarity that eased the ache of loneliness you had carried for so long. And in those stolen moments between nurse visits and medical checks, you began to see Joel not just as a protector, but as someone who had quietly slipped into the spaces of your heart.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a golden glow across the room, Joel lingered by your bedside longer than usual. The air between you seemed charged with unspoken words, a tension that crackled beneath the surface.

"You know," Joel began, his voice low and rough with emotion, "I’ve never been one for… for flowers."

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. "I’ve noticed," you replied softly, your heart beating a little faster in your chest.

"Guess I’m makin’ an exception for you."

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You reached out tentatively, placing your hand over his where it rested on the edge of the bed. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"I’m glad you did," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "Me too."

In that moment, the distance between you dissolved, replaced by an undeniable pull that drew you closer together. It was as if you had been circling each other, hesitating on the edge of something profound. And now, with your hands intertwined and your hearts laid bare, there was no turning back.

***

One evening, as you sat together in the fading light, Joel’s hand found yours once more. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, and found him already looking at you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

"Joel," you whispered, the word a prayer on your lips.

He didn’t speak, but his eyes held yours captive, searching for any hesitation or doubt. And when he leaned in, closing the distance between you, you thought the world would finally fall away, leaving only the warmth of his lips.

But what you expected never happened. Instead, he stilled, his eyes dropping to your lips and then back to meet your eyes over and over. He pulled away, swallowed thickly, and got up from his seat. He left without saying another word.

But, through it all, Joel continued to bring you flowers every morning—a silent reminder of the love and hope that had blossomed between you amidst the ruins of your world.

***

Several months passed in Jackson, and with each day of recovery, you found yourself drawn more deeply into the rhythm of life within the fortified walls. The once unfamiliar faces of Tommy, Maria, Ellie, and Joel became your steadfast companions, their presence weaving a tapestry of belonging that you hadn't felt since before the outbreak.

As you regained your strength, you sought out ways to contribute to the community that had welcomed you with open arms. It was during one of Joel's visits that he suggested you spend time at the local library, knowing your love for books and movies from your earlier conversations. The idea resonated deeply with you, igniting a spark of excitement and purpose.

The library itself was a refuge—a haven of knowledge and imagination nestled within the sturdy walls of Jackson. Its shelves were lined with dusty books of every genre imaginable, their spines worn and weathered from years of use. The air was infused with the comforting scent of paper and ink, a familiar aroma that brought back memories of lazy afternoons spent lost in fictional worlds.

Occasionally, patrons would wander in, seeking recommendations or browsing the latest arrivals. You greeted them warmly, offering assistance with finding books or answering questions about library programs. Some were regular visitors, their faces becoming familiar over time, while others were newcomers, drawn in by the promise of a quiet corner and a good book.

During breaks, you would steal moments for yourself—a cup of tea, a brief pause to admire the view from the library windows. The town of Jackson spread out before you, a patchwork of rooftops and winding streets, framed by the majestic peaks of the surrounding mountains.

Joel's visits were a highlight of your day, his footsteps echoing softly on the library floor as he approached. Sometimes, he would linger near the front desk, watching you with a quiet intensity that sent a flutter of warmth through you. Other times, he would join you in the stacks, his presence a steady comfort as you exchanged snippets of conversation between the rows of books.

As you meticulously arranged a display of newly arrived mystery novels near the entrance of the library, the familiar sound of footsteps approached from behind you. You turned to see Joel entering with Ellie at his side, their presence instantly brightening the quiet atmosphere of the library.

"Hey," Joel greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "How's the day treatin’ you?"

You returned his smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his presence. "It's going well. Just getting things in order here."

Ellie darted off towards the fiction section, her eyes scanning the shelves with eager anticipation. "I'm looking for that new sci-fi book Tommy mentioned," she called back over her shoulder, her voice echoing softly through the library.

Joel chuckled fondly, his gaze lingering on Ellie for a moment before returning to you. "She's been itchin’ to read that one for weeks now."

"She's got great taste."

Joel moved closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. "You know, Ellie's been talking about you," he admitted, his voice low and intimate. "Says you've been a lifesaver with those book recommendations."

"Well, I'm glad I could help."

"You do more than just help, you know." 

Before you could say anything his gaze, usually steady and composed, softened as he noticed the small cut on your wrist. Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

You held your breath, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at his proximity. His fingers traced the delicate line of the cut, his touch gentle yet firm as he inspected it. "What happened?" he asked quietly, concern etched in the lines of his face.

You swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "I... I got a splinter earlier," you managed to explain, your words coming out in a breathless rush. "It's nothing, really. I took it out, but..."

Ignoring you, he continued to examine your palm, his brow furrowed in concentration. His thumb brushed lightly over the area where you had removed the splinter, and then he paused, his expression changing subtly.

"There's still a small piece in there." 

"I thought I got it all out," you admitted, a hint of frustration coloring your tone.

Joel met your eyes, his gaze steady and reassuring. "It happens," he murmured, his focus shifting back to your hand. "Let me take care of it."

With practiced ease, Joel reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pair of tweezers. He positioned himself beside you, his touch careful and precise as he gently extracted the remaining splinter from your palm. You held your breath, watching as Joel worked with steady hands and unwavering focus. The sensation was more comforting than painful.

"There," Joel said softly, finally withdrawing the tweezers and inspecting his handiwork. "All done."

You exhaled a sigh of relief, "Thank you," you murmured.

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Anytime," he replied quietly, his voice rough with unspoken emotions.

Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed his warm lips against the throbbing patch of skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart beating a mile per minute. It didn’t last. It felt like a drizzle of rain, leaving your skin as soon as it touched it. He let go of your hand and took a quick step back, he looked remorseful like he regretted his action almost immediately. 

His look made you feel guilty. Your heart aching even though you knew you’d done nothing wrong. 

***

In the weeks and months that followed, you and Joel found yourselves drawn closer together, your bond deepening with each shared moment and whispered conversation. The library remained a sanctuary where your friendship blossomed amidst the pages of beloved stories and the quiet hum of everyday life in Jackson.

With Joel heading out on patrol, the library felt unusually quiet that day. Ellie had arrived earlier, her energy and curiosity filling the space as she browsed through the shelves with a voracious appetite for new stories.

You greeted her with a warm smile as she approached the front desk, her arms already filled with a diverse stack of books ranging from graphic novels to classic literature. 

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted cheerfully, taking note of her eclectic choices. "Finding everything okay?"

"Definitely! You've got so many cool books here," she exclaimed, carefully setting down her stack on the counter. "Mind if I borrow these?"

"Of course not," you replied with a chuckle, scanning the books one by one and checking them out for her. "I'm glad you're enjoying the selection. Anything specific you're in the mood for?"

As Ellie launched into animated descriptions of her favorite genres and characters, you found yourself drawn into her infectious enthusiasm. You bonded over shared interests—sci-fi novels that explored distant galaxies, fantasy epics filled with magic and adventure, and even a few graphic novels that blurred the lines between reality and imagination.

In between discussions about your favorite books, Ellie shared stories of her experiences growing up in the post-outbreak world. You reciprocated by opening up about your own journey—memories of a life before the outbreak, your love for books and movies, and the challenges of finding a new sense of normalcy in Jackson.

The hours slipped by unnoticed as you lost yourselves in conversation and exploration, your laughter echoing through the library aisles. It was easy to forget the outside world for a while, immersed in the camaraderie and shared passion for storytelling that bound you together.

As the afternoon sun began to cast long shadows through the library windows, Ellie glanced at the clock with a playful grin. "I should probably head back before Joel starts worrying," she teased, gathering up her books and preparing to leave.

You nodded in understanding, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between you in Joel's absence. "Thanks for keeping me company, Ellie," you said sincerely, touched by her presence and the genuine connection you had forged.

Ellie flashed you a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anytime, Ash," she replied, using Joel's nickname for you with a knowing glint in her eye. "You're pretty cool, you know?"

Before you could respond, she was already halfway out the door, her laughter trailing behind her. You watched her go with a fond smile, feeling a warmth in your heart that lingered long after she had gone.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of books and stories, you reflected on the unexpected friendships that had blossomed in the wake of devastation. Joel's departure had brought you and Ellie closer together, reminding you once again of the resilience and strength that could be found in the bonds you forged and the stories you shared.

***

You lay on your bed, the soft sheets cradling your body as you closed your eyes. Your mind wandered to him, your crush, Joel. The mere thought of his name sent a shiver down your spine and a warm sensation between your legs.

You couldn't help but imagine his hands on you, his gentle touch igniting a fire within you. You pictured him hovering over you, his lips inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin. Your fingers instinctively began to trail down your body, following the curves and dips, imagining it was his hands exploring every inch of you.

The thought of his strong, calloused hands caressing your skin made you shiver. You remembered the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the depth in them that always seemed to draw you in. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze, intense and burning, as he looked at you with a desire that mirrored your own.

As your hand found its way between your thighs, you could almost feel his touch. Your body responded eagerly, your hips arching off the bed. You let out a soft gasp, imagining it was Joel's name tumbling from your lips. The fantasy deepened, and you could see his face more clearly now, his features etched in your mind with perfect clarity.

Your mind played out various scenarios, each one more intense and intimate than the last. You imagined him leaning in to kiss you, his lips soft and insistent against yours. The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a slow, tantalizing rhythm that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere, tracing patterns on your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You pictured his lips on your neck, his soft whispers in your ear, his strong arms holding you close. His voice was low and husky, filled with a need that matched your own. He told you how much he wanted you, how he couldn't stop thinking about you, and every word sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

The pleasure built and built, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You imagined him whispering your name, his breath hot against your ear, his hands guiding you, teasing you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy.

As you reached your peak, you allowed yourself to fully indulge in the fantasy of Joel. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper, it was all in your head but it felt so real. You could almost hear his voice, feel the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of him pressing down on you, grounding you in the moment.

The waves of pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your release. For a few blissful moments, everything else faded away, and it was just you and Joel, lost in the throes of passion.

And as you came down from the high, you couldn’t help but wish that it was more than just a fantasy. That one day, Joel would make all your desires and daydreams a reality. You imagined the two of you together, sharing moments of intimacy and connection, building a relationship that went beyond your wildest dreams.

But for now, you settled for this moment of sensual bliss, enjoying every second of it. You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, your mind filled with thoughts of Joel. You let yourself linger in the fantasy a little longer, savoring the feeling of being close to him, even if it was just in your imagination. And as you drifted off to sleep, you carried the hope that one day, your fantasies would become a reality.

Feeling sticky and aching, you slowly peeled yourself off the bed and headed for a quick shower. The cool water cascaded over your skin, washing away the remnants of your fantasy and providing a refreshing contrast to the heat that had consumed you moments ago. As the water soothed your body, your mind remained restless, thoughts of Joel still swirling in your head.

You felt a bittersweet twinge in your chest as you thought about him. The warmth and intensity of your fantasies clashed with the cold reality that nothing would ever happen between you and Joel. Despite how often he was around, how his presence always seemed to light up the room, he never took that next step. He never crossed the line from friendship into something more.

You replayed your interactions with him, searching for signs, any indication that he might feel the same way. There were moments that made your heart flutter—a lingering glance, a touch that felt too intimate to be merely friendly, words that seemed to carry a hidden meaning. But just as quickly, doubts crept in, and you reminded yourself that it was probably just your wishful thinking, seeing what you wanted to see.

The ache in your heart deepened as you accepted this reality. You knew that despite your longing, Joel remained just out of reach, a constant presence in your life but never quite yours. The shower water mingled with your tears as you silently mourned the unfulfilled dreams and desires that seemed destined to remain in your imagination.

As you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, feeling the softness against your skin. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over you. You reminded yourself that life went on, and you couldn’t stay lost in your fantasies forever.

Instead of getting dressed, you find yourself drawn back to your bed. The sheets were cool now, a stark contrast to the heat of your earlier thoughts. You climbed back in, pulling the covers around you, seeking comfort in their familiar embrace.

Your mind drifted back to Joel, to his warm brown eyes that always seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words. You pictured his smile, the way it lit up his entire face, and the sound of his laugh, so genuine and infectious. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have him here with you, to feel his arms around you, to share these quiet moments together.

You lay there, your heart heavy with longing, and allowed yourself to imagine just a little longer. Even though you knew it was just a fantasy, it brought a small measure of comfort. His presence in your thoughts was a bittersweet solace, a reminder of what you yearned for but also what you could not have.

Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you let the thoughts of Joel lull you into a dream-filled sleep. You knew that reality awaited you when you woke, but for now, you let yourself drift, holding onto the image of his warm brown eyes and the hope that one day, you would find the love you deserved.

***

Joel sat on his horse, patrolling the outskirts of Jackson with a heavy heart. The familiar landscape, with its rugged terrain and dense forests, usually offered a sense of solace and routine. Today, however, his thoughts were far from the patrol at hand. They kept drifting back to the library, to the warmth of her smile and the depth of her eyes.

He'd felt an inexplicable pull towards her since the moment he found her. Her tenacity and spirit had captivated him. She fought like hell to survive, just like he had so many times before. It was more than just attraction—it was a connection he didn't fully understand and certainly didn't know how to handle.

"Get your head in the game, Joel," he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the distraction. But the more he tried to focus on the patrol, the more his mind wandered back to her. He remembered how her breath had caught when he held her hand to inspect her cut. There was something about her that drew him in, despite every instinct telling him to keep his distance.

Back in Jackson, she was sucesfully becoming a part of the community. Tommy and Maria had taken to her quickly. Tommy often spoke highly of her, appreciating her wit and the way she didn't suffer fools. Maria admired her resilience and found in her a kindred spirit. Ellie was perhaps the closest to her, their shared love for books and movies creating a bond that seemed to grow stronger by the day.

Joel watched from the sidelines, a mix of pride and something else he couldn't quite name filling his chest. Seeing her interact with Tommy and Maria, laughing at Ellie's jokes, and bringing a new light to the community was both heartwarming and painful. He wanted to be closer to her, to let down his guard and allow himself to feel. But the fear of loss, the weight of his past, kept him from stepping into the light she offered.

One evening, Joel found himself standing outside the library, watching through the window as she and Ellie animatedly discussed a book. Her laughter rang out, clear and joyous, and it struck him deeply. He turned away, the internal struggle gnawing at him. He wanted to protect her, to be there for her, but he didn't think he deserved that kind of happiness.

Every interaction was charged with a mix of emotions—hope, fear, desire, and self-doubt. When he brought her fresh flowers each morning, her eyes would light up with a gratitude that made his heartache. Yet, he always found an excuse to leave quickly, afraid that lingering too long would reveal too much.

They found themselves alone in the library more often than not. She would be shelving books, and he would walk in, their eyes meeting across the room. Words felt inadequate, and yet the silence between them spoke volumes. She began to notice his frequent visits, the way he seemed to hover just on the edge of their interactions, always present but never fully engaging.

One afternoon, Joel found her struggling with a particularly heavy stack of books. Without thinking, he moved to help, their hands brushing as they both reached for the top book. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he saw the same spark in her eyes. She bit her lip, a small, nervous habit he'd come to recognize, and his resolve wavered.

"You don't have to do this alone," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for answers he wasn't ready to give.

"Neither do you," she replied, her voice equally soft but filled with a strength that shook him.

They stood there, the library fading into the background as the weight of their unspoken words hung between them. Joel's heart pounded in his chest, the magnetic pull towards her stronger than ever. He wanted to reach out, to close the distance and let her in, but the fear of losing her, of not being enough, held him back.

Finally, he stepped away, the moment broken by his retreat. She watched him go, a mix of sadness and understanding in her eyes. Joel walked out of the library, the internal battle raging on. He didn't know how long he could keep this up, but for now, he would protect her the only way he knew how—by keeping his distance, even if it tore him apart inside.

***

The library was your sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself in the comforting embrace of books and the soothing rhythm of routine. You were deep in thought, rearranging a shelf of classic novels when you heard the door creak open. Turning, you saw Ellie standing there, her usual bright energy replaced by a troubled expression.

"Hey, Ellie," you greeted her warmly, trying to read her mood. "What's up?"

Ellie hesitated at the entrance, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She looked around the empty library as if making sure you were alone. "Hey, Ash," she said softly, her voice lacking its usual spark. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," you replied, setting the book you were holding aside and walking over to her. "What's on your mind?"

Ellie bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "It's... kind of personal," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart going out to her. "Let's sit down," you suggested, guiding her to a cozy corner of the library where a couple of armchairs were nestled by a large window. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the room, creating a safe, intimate space for your conversation.

You settled into the chairs, and you waited patiently, giving Ellie the time she needed to gather her thoughts. She looked at her hands, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on the armrest.

"I've been feeling really confused lately," Ellie began. "There's this girl... Dina. She's amazing. Funny, smart, and just... so cool. I think I have a crush on her."

"Dina sounds wonderful," you said encouragingly. "It's okay to have feelings for someone."

Ellie looked up at you, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "But... it's more than that. I think... I know I'm not into guys. I like girls. And it scares me. I don't know how people will react, especially Joel."

Her vulnerability tugged at your heartstrings. You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Ellie, thank you for sharing this with me," you said softly. "It's a big step, and I want you to know that it's perfectly okay to feel the way you do."

Ellie swallowed hard, her eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice fragile.

"I know so," you replied firmly. "And you're not alone in this. I'm bisexual."

Ellie's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

You nodded, offering her a comforting smile. "Yes. I've been where you are, feeling scared and unsure. But the important thing to remember is that your feelings are valid. Who you love doesn't define your worth; it's just a part of who you are."

Ellie took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor as if the words she was about to say were too heavy to lift. "I'm really scared to tell Joel," she confessed, her voice trembling. "What if he doesn't accept me? What if he thinks less of me?"

You leaned forward, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Ellie, I know Joel can be a bit... gruff and guarded, but he cares about you more than anything. You mean the world to him. He's been through a lot, and he's seen more than most. If there's one thing I know about Joel, it's that he values the people he loves for who they are."

Ellie's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a glimmer of hope in their depths. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you said with conviction. "I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he worries about you. He might have his rough edges, but his heart is in the right place. And if you need someone to be there with you when you tell him, I'll be right by your side."

Ellie bit her lip, her expression softening as she considered your words. "It's just... he's been like a father to me. I don't want to disappoint him."

"You won't," you assured her. "Joel loves you unconditionally. He might be surprised at first, but that won't change how much he cares about you. He'll want you to be happy, and being true to yourself is a big part of that."

Ellie nodded slowly, the fear in her eyes giving way to a cautious optimism. "I hope you're right. I just don't want to lose him."

"You won't lose him," you repeated gently. "Joel's been through too much to let something like this come between you. He'll need time to process, but he'll come around. And remember, you have a whole community here who supports you, including me."

"Thanks, Ash. It means a lot to hear that."

"Anytime, Ellie," you said, giving her a reassuring smile. "You're not alone in this. We'll face it together."

Ellie took a deep breath, nodding as if steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "Okay. I'll tell him. But... can you really be there with me when I do?"

"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "I'll be right there with you, every step of the way."

You sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the conversation settling between you. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the library. It felt like a moment of quiet reflection, a brief respite before the next step in Ellie's journey.

Finally, Ellie broke the silence, her voice stronger and more determined. "I've got to tell Dina too. I think she might feel the same way, but I've been too scared to say anything."

You smiled, proud of her courage. "That's a good idea. Being honest with her will help you both figure out where you stand."

Ellie nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I think so too. Thanks, Ash. For everything."

"You're welcome," you said warmly. "Remember, I'm always here if you need to talk or just need a friend."

Ellie stood up, her shoulders a little straighter than before. "I'll see you later, Ash. And... thanks again."

As she walked out of the library, you watched her go with a sense of pride and hope. Ellie was on the brink of a significant moment in her life, and you were honored to be a part of it. The bond you had forged in that quiet corner of the library was a testament to the power of empathy, understanding, and unconditional support.

And as you returned to your work, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. Helping Ellie find her way was just the beginning. In a world filled with uncertainty and hardship, moments like these remind you of the strength and resilience that lay within each of us. You were not alone, and together, you could face whatever challenges came your way.

***

You were on patrol, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the dense forest as you walked. The air was crisp, the smell of pine and earth strong around you. Normally, you would have found the setting peaceful, but today there was an uncomfortable silence hanging between Joel and you. No matter how hard you tried to make conversation, he remained stoically quiet, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a focused intensity.

"So, Joel," you started for what felt like the tenth time, trying to break through the barrier of silence. "How's Ellie doing with all those books she borrowed? She mentioned she really liked the one about the ancient Greek heroes."

Joel grunted in response, his gaze never leaving the path ahead. "She liked it," he said shortly.

You bit your lip, feeling the awkwardness grow. It wasn't like Joel to be this distant, especially after everything you had been through. You wondered if something had happened, if he was angry or upset with you. You tried again, your voice a bit more tentative this time. "I hope she's doing okay. She's really taken a liking to the library."

"She's fine," Joel replied, his tone clipped.

A heavy silence fell over you once more. You could hear the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, the distant chirping of birds, and the occasional rustle of a small animal scurrying through the underbrush. It was a stark contrast to the usual camaraderie you shared, and it was unsettling.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You stopped walking, forcing Joel to stop as well. "Joel, what's going on?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt. "You've been quiet all day, and it's making me feel like I did something wrong."

Joel turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you with those intense, deep-set eyes. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of frustration. "It's not you," he finally said, his voice softer. "It's me. I've got a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, taking a step closer to him.

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "It's complicated," he muttered. "I just... I don't want to mess things up."

You frowned, not understanding. "Mess what up? Joel, you've been a good friend to me. If there's something bothering you, you can tell me. Maybe I can help."

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with turmoil that took your breath away. "That's just it," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't know how to handle what I'm feelin’. I've been trying to keep my distance because I don't want to hurt you. But seein’ you, bein’ near you... it's drivin’ me crazy."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sank in. "Joel," you whispered, taking another step closer until you were almost touching. "You don't have to protect me from yourself. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

He shook his head again, more forcefully this time. "You don't understand, Ash. I've done things, terrible things. I don't deserve... this. You. I don't deserve you."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Joel, we all have our pasts. We all have things we're not proud of. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness, or love. You've been there for me when I needed it most. Let me be there for you."

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and longing. "I want to believe that," he said quietly. "I really do."

"Then believe it," you urged, your voice soft but insistent. "We can take it one step at a time. You don't have to face everything alone."

For a long moment, Joel didn't move. Then, slowly, he reached up and covered your hand with his, his grip strong and reassuring. You stood there, the forest around you silent and still, a world away from the chaos and danger that usually surrounded you. At that moment, it was just the two of you, facing your fears and uncertainties together. He didn’t say a word, then, slowly, he let you go and pressed forward. 

The atmosphere between Joel and you remained tense as you continued your patrol. The silence was thick, each step through the forest feeling heavier than the last. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, circling around the complexities of your unspoken emotions. You couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be embraced by him, to feel his strong arms around you, offering comfort and security.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t see the tree root protruding from the ground. Your foot caught on it, and before you knew it, you were falling. You landed hard, a sharp pain shooting through your arm as you scraped it against a jagged rock.

"Damn it," you muttered, wincing as you cradled your arm. Blood seeped from a cut just below your elbow, the wound stinging in the cool air.

Joel was at your side in an instant, his expression shifting from distant to concerned. "You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff but laced with worry.

"I'm fine," you snapped, though your voice was tight with pain. "Just a cut."

Joel ignored your words, gently taking your arm to inspect the wound. His touch was surprisingly tender, and despite the pain, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His brow furrowed as he examined the cut, his fingers carefully avoiding the worst of it.

"We need to clean this up," he said, his voice authoritative. "You got any water left?"

"Don't," you interrupted, pulling your arm away from him and trying to push him back. "Why do you even care? You've been distant all day."

Joel looked taken aback, his hand frozen in mid-air. "I'm just tryin’ to help." 

"Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that," you muttered, your back against a tree as you tried to compose yourself. The pain in your arm was nothing compared to the frustration bubbling inside you.

Joel knelt in front of you, his brows tightly drawn together. "I know I’ve been an ass but. . .” 

You looked away, trying to ignore the sting of tears in your eyes. "Whatever. Just go away, Joel. It hurts more when you show softness only to take it away."

For a moment, he didn't move, his gaze searching your face for something. Then, with a sigh, he sat back on his heels, clearly conflicted. 

Joel’s hand shot out and caught your wrist as you tried to push him away again. His grip was like iron, firm yet not painful. You struggled against him, frustration mounting, but he didn’t let go. His eyes bored into yours.

"Joel, let go," you demanded, your voice shaky.

He didn't budge, his grip unwavering. "Not until you listen," he said, his tone firm.

You tried to pull away, but it was futile. "Listen to what? More silence?"

His eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite decipher. "Listen to this," he said quietly before leaning in.

You barely had time to register his words before his lips were on yours. The kiss was unexpected, a collision of emotions that took your breath away. You stiffened, caught off guard, but Joel’s hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but securely as his fingers worked the muscles.

For a moment, you were frozen, your mind reeling from the sudden intimacy. Then, slowly, you began to respond, your resistance melting away. The kiss deepened, a raw and desperate exchange of everything you had been holding back. Your free hand found its way to his shoulder, gripping tightly as if anchoring yourself in the storm of emotions.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn’t know how else to show you how much you mean to me."

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "Joel, you can’t just... kiss me to make everything better," you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

"I know," he replied softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not releasing you entirely. "But I had to do somethin’. I can’t keep pushin’ you away. Not when I feel this way."

"Then stop pushing me away," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can figure this out together."

Joel nodded, his thumb gently brushing over your wrist. "Together," he agreed, his voice resolute.

Joel's touch shifted from your wrist to the cut on your arm, his movements careful and precise. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, assessing the damage with a quiet intensity that belied his usual stoicism. You watched him closely, feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin, a stark contrast to the coolness of the forest around you.

Using the water from your bottle, Joel cleaned the cut gently, his touch light yet firm. The sting of the water made you flinch, but he continued his ministrations without hesitation. His focus was solely on you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to ensure the wound was thoroughly cleansed.

Once satisfied that the wound was clean, Joel reached into his pack and retrieved a small first aid kit. With practiced movements, he carefully applied antiseptic ointment to the cut, his touch gentle despite the efficiency of his actions. You winced again at the sting of the ointment, but Joel's reassuring presence kept you grounded.

Next, he unfolded a sterile bandage from the kit and began to wrap it around your arm, securing it in place with medical tape. His hands moved with a steady rhythm, his focus unwavering as he ensured the bandage was snug but not constricting. Each touch sent a wave of comfort through you, a silent reassurance that he was there, taking care of you.

As he finished securing the bandage, Joel looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of relief and concern. "There," he said softly. "That should do for now."

"Thank you, Joel," you murmured.

He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before he slowly withdrew, giving you space. 

You sat there for a while longer, the forest around you settling into an evening hush. As you made your way back from your patrol, the tension that had gripped both of you seemed to ease with every step. The forest was bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows on the familiar path to Jackson. Joel walked beside you, his presence a silent comfort.

You stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, unsure of what to say after everything. His hand, rough and calloused from years of survival, brushed against yours as you walked, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. To your surprise, Joel’s fingers interlaced with yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might slip away.

Finally reaching the outskirts of Jackson, you hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Joel slowed his pace slightly, as if sensing your uncertainty. As you approached your house, you turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Joel," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "would you like to come in?"

His gaze met yours, searching for something in the depths of your eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'd like that." 

You led him inside, the familiar warmth of home enveloping both of you as you stepped through the door. Joel followed you into the living room, his presence filling the space.

As you settled on the couch, Joel’s hand found yours once more, his touch grounding and reassuring. The weight of everything you had shared that day hung in the air, a fragile bridge between friendship and something more. His thumb brushed against the bandage, the wound still stinging underneath. He leaned closer, lips brushing your temple, you leaned in and as you did, you slowly turned your face, meeting his lips with your own. 

He tasted sweet like a gentle summer breeze, that subtle wind that feels like a caress from the sun. You were bolder than him, parting your lips with a greed you thought you didn’t have anymore. He parted his lips with a groan, the deep sound made you tremble. Suddenly you were on top of him, your legs parted over his lap as you placed soft, rushed kisses all across his face. You felt him smile and it made your lips curl up, your heart skipping a beat. 

His hips jerked up as he parted away, his breath warm when he spoke, “Your arm, darlin’. . .” 

You felt yourself leaning in, wanting more—needing more. Joel’s lips softly brushed against yours, causing electricity to surge through your body. His hand trails up your arm, gently caressing the bandage where he had tended to your wound earlier.

"My arm feels...better now," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady as Joel’s hand lingers on your skin.

He leans in closer, his lips now only a fraction of an inch away from yours. "Good," he muttered, his voice low and husky. "I'm glad."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, your lips brushed against his. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire within you. You felt the warmth of Joel’s breath against your face as he deepened the kiss, his hand now cupping your cheek tenderly.

Lost in the moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt like time had stopped and you never wanted this moment to end. As your lips parted, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing heavily.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Joel said.

"Me too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was slow. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting you, moaning whenever you tease him with a flick of your own.  

You felt a rush of excitement as Joel’s hands explored your body, his touch igniting a burning desire within you. You let out a small gasp as he removed your shirt, revealing your now bare chest.

Joel’s eyes roamed over your body, his gaze dark as the bark of the oldest tree in Jackson.  

His lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you. 

“Impatient one, aren’t you?” he rasped. “Gonna have to teach you some patience while we’re at it.” 

Without breaking the kiss, Joel’s hands moved to your bra, unclasping it with practiced ease. You felt a rush of excitement and nervousness as he removed it, leaving your chest exposed to him.

He pulls away slightly, now gazing at you in awe. "God, you're beautiful," 

His lips moved down to your breasts, his touch gentle and tender. You gasp as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand cupping your other breast. He twisted one nipple while pampering the other with his tongue, a soft whimper escaped your throat. You eagerly grind your hips down, feeling the hard outline of his cock. Sweat beaded at the curve of your spine, your body was blissfully being burned from the inside out. 

You buried your hand in Joel’s hair, the sensations he’s causing you almost overwhelming. As he continued to kiss and caress you, your body responded eagerly, your arousal building with each passing moment.

You moaned softly as Joel moved his hands lower, his fingers expertly teasing and exploring your most sensitive parts. You couldn’t believe how good he made you feel.

“You like that huh?” he muttered. “Can’t wait for me to devour that sweet pussy of yours?” 

You feel yourself getting lost in the moment, forgetting about everything else except for the two of you.

“Yes,” you breathed, your chest caving in on itself. “Please, Joel, you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.” 

“And how long would that be, sweetheart?” 

“A damned long time,” you smiled. “Way too long.” 

You grabbed Joel’s hand and promptly stood up, leading him to the bedroom. You felt his hand grip yours tighter, letting you know that he was just as eager as you are.

When you entered the room, you turned to face Joel, your eyes locking with his. Without a word, you slowly started to undress him, your hands running over his defined chest and down his softened torso.

Once he’s completely naked, you step back and admire his body, feeling a surge of want course through you. 

“You brought me here just to ogle me?” he grinned. “That’s not very polite you know.” 

You took a step closer, your hand resting on his chest as you pressed against him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your bodies pressing closer together in unison. You felt the length of his cock, your hand wrapping around it without second thought. His chest rattled with a groan, cock twitching in your palm. You slowly brought him to the bed, allowing yourself to fall, you pulled him down with you. 

You felt his lips trailing down your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wetness as he moved lower. Your breathing became heavier, your anticipation building with every passing second.

Joel’s mouth found its way to your most sensitive area, his tongue expertly teasing and flicking against your clit. You let out a gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

“Mine,” he groaned, pressing his mouth harder against you. “This pussy is all mine, say it or I’ll stop.” 

“Yours,” you replied almost immediately. “Every inch of me is yours, I belong to you, every bit of me.” 

He hummed his approval as he sucked your clit between his lips, teeth gently nibbling the sensitive flesh. Your upper body jolted, hands finding the back of his head. 

But you’re not content with just lying back and enjoying his touch. You wanted to reciprocate the pleasure, to make him feel just as good as he’s making you feel.

You pushed Joel onto his back and straddled him, your hands roaming over his chest as you kissed him. Your hips grind against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

With an innate sense of what he likes, you took him in your hand, stroking him slowly but firmly. You felt him grow harder as precome slid down his throbbing cock, you moved lower, taking him into your mouth.

You used your tongue and lips to pleasure him, feeling him writhe beneath you. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. He tasted bittersweet, cock pulsing against your tongue. Your cunt throbbed as you took him deeper down your throat, he groaned, hips thrusting forward. When you choked, he pulled you off and touched the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. 

“Later,” he muttered, his eyes dropped down to witness your pouty lips, only to smile when he met your gaze again. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to use that smart mouth.” 

With that he flipped you over onto your back, his eyes full of need as he positioned himself between your legs. You spread them eagerly, welcoming him into you.

With one swift movement, he slipped inside of you, both of you letting out a moan. He started to move, his hips thrusting against yours in a rhythm that became more and more intense. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. You felt yourself getting lost, your mind consumed by the pleasure each thrust brings.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing your hips against him, you feel slick dripping down and staining the sheets.  Your entire body writhed against him, your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull as his cock stretched you over and over again. 

With one final push, you both reached your climax, your bodies trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. You collapsed onto the bed, gasping and panting as you tried to catch your breath.

As you laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this moment. You’ve never felt so connected to someone before, and you know that you want to experience this feeling again and again with Joel by your side.

***

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle warmth across the room where you and Joel lay nestled close together. The quiet morning wrapped around both of you like a comforting blanket. As you stirred awake, you felt Joel's arm around you, his presence steady and reassuring.

"Mornin’," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep but filled with tenderness.

You shifted slightly, turning to face him with a soft smile. "Morning," you replied softly, feeling a rush of warmth at the closeness between you.

Joel brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. "How's your arm feelin’?" he asked, his concern evident.

"It's better," you assured him, leaning into his touch. "Thank you for taking care of me yesterday."

His gaze softened, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "Always," he said quietly, his hand resting against yours.

You and Joel lingered in the soft embrace of the morning light, your whispered conversation carrying a weight of unspoken understanding. As you shared your thoughts, a mutual agreement emerged between you—a decision to keep your burgeoning relationship private, shielded from the complexities that often accompanied deeper connections in your fragile world.

"I think it's best if we keep this between us," Joel murmured, his voice low and earnest. "We've both been through enough already."

You nodded. "Yeah, it's just... I don't want anything to jeopardize what we have," you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on the blanket draped over you both.

Joel's gaze softened, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "Neither do I," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But being with you... it feels right."

A swell of warmth filled your chest at his words, a silent reassurance that echoed your own sentiments. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, you couldn't deny the growing connection between you, a bond forged through shared experiences and unspoken emotions.

You lingered a while longer in the quiet sanctuary of the morning, each moment steeped in the gentle intimacy of newfound understanding. As the world outside stirred with its own rhythms, you and Joel found solace in the simple promise of each other's company, silently vowing to protect what you had found amidst the uncertainties of your lives.

In that fleeting moment of shared vulnerability, you knew that your decision to keep your relationship a secret was not just a shield against potential complications—it was a testament to the fragile hope that had bloomed between you, a hope that dared to whisper of a future where you could navigate the challenges together, one quiet morning at a time.

***

“On your knees, sweetheart. Now.” 

Head completely empty, you did as you were told. The small shed at Tommy and Maria’s place was secluded enough for no one to see either of you. The leaves of a nearby tree blocked the window, the gentle scrapes making you feel safe. 

It had been a month since you and Joel started your relationship together. He was a tentative man, both in public and behind closed doors. He would remember what you told him and bring you small gifts from whenever he went on patrol. It warmed your heart and for the first time, you genuinely felt happy. 

You leaned into his touch, his palm cupping the side of your cheek. Smiling, you unzipped his pants and took him into your palm. He was hard already, eager to feel the warmth of your tongue on the sensitive skin. You gave the tip a soft kiss, smiling wider as he shuddered. His hand slid to the back of your head. He thrust forward, the length of his cock sliding against your lips. You parted them, tongue flat against the underside of his cock, you took him deep down your throat. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, head thrown back. “Show me how much you want me, darlin’.” You looked up and blinked rapidly. “I bet you're soaked right now. . . With all those people outside havin’ fun, aren’t you ashamed?” 

Your stomach bottomed out, excitement growing in your gut. You attempted to make a sound that would convey disagreement, but he only smiled, pushing himself further down. 

“Take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Take all of it.” 

Your eyes widened as he began to fuck your throat with earnest, precome coating your tongue. He was impatient, which was something he rarely was. Maybe it was because of the barbecue outside, or the fact that this was his baby brother’s shed—Whatever it was, you enjoyed it. 

You could barely breathe, saliva and spit dripping down the corners of your outstretched mouth. His balls laid heavy against your chin, smacking you every time he snapped his hips forward. Your eyes rolled, tears pricking the sides. You thought you heard him shushing you, a soothing sound, at least, that’s why you assumed he was shushing you. To soothe you. You had missed the fact that your moans had grown obscenely loud despite his cock sliding between your lips—

“Hey Joel, you guys good in—” Both of you stilled at the sound, the creak of the door, the familiar soft voice. Your cunt clenched, slick dripping between your thighs. You so badly wanted to touch yourself, to soothe the pain, but that seemed like an impossible thing to do. 

Joel cleared his throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he slowly pulled out his cock. It glistened with spit and precome, the sight of it making you whimper. Your head felt like it was floating, that none of this was really and all you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs. 

He prevented you from looking back towards Tommy. He held his hand firm on your neck, massaging it to keep you calm. 

“We’ll be out in a second,” he said, voice strained. “Sorry.” 

The younger Miller said nothing else, you only realized it was the two of you again when you heard the door closing. Joel let out a deep breath, “So much for keepin’ it a secret,” he muttered. “I won’t be hearin’ the end of it.” 

“Sorry,” you said, looking up, eyes teary. “I. . . I didn’t realize I was being so loud.” 

He promptly knelt down, holding your face between rough hands, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “Nothin’ to apologize for. I’m the one who got us into this mess, you don’t need to worry about nothin’. It ain’t the first time he caught me indecent. Now, let’s get you home.” 

“Okay,” you muttered, heart feeling light and head still feeling dizzy. “Let’s go home.” 

***

Joel sat in the dimly lit kitchen of Tommy’s and Maria’s home. The evening shadows danced across the walls, painting the room with muted hues of twilight.Tommy had walked in on them—caught them in a moment of vulnerability and intimacy.

Tommy's initial shock had given way to a steady calm as he sat across from Joel at the small wooden table, the lines of his face etched with doubt. Joel’s hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles white with the strain. He stared at the worn surface of the table, struggling to find the right words.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Joel finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “It just... things got complicated. I know how it looks, Tommy. I know I’ve got no business...”

Tommy held up a hand, cutting him off. His gaze was steady, full of an unspoken empathy. “Joel, I’m not here to judge you,” he said firmly. “You’re my brother. And whatever’s going on between you and Ash, I support it. I’ve seen how she makes you feel. Hell, I’ve seen how you look at her. I want you to be happy.”

Joel’s eyes lifted to meet Tommy’s, a mixture of surprise and relief flickering across his features. “I know I don’t deserve her,” he said quietly, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Tommy. I’m not the man I used to be. I don’t know why she’d want anything to do with me.”

Tommy shook his head, his expression one of deep, abiding concern. “Look, Joel, none of us are perfect. We all have our demons. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a little happiness now and then. Ash’s been through her share of shit too. She’s not here because she thinks you’re some perfect hero. She’s here because she sees somethin’ in you that maybe you don’t see yourself.”

Joel’s gaze dropped again, the weight of Tommy’s words sinking in. “I just don’t want to mess it up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid that something’s gonna come along and ruin it.”

Tommy leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “You’re not alone in this, Joel. None of us are. You’ve got to trust that maybe you’re worthy of something good. Maybe you’re worthy of her. And if you’re worried about messin’ things up, then do somethin’ about it. Fight for it. But don’t keep it a secret from everyone who cares about you. It’s not a burden to bear alone.”

Joel nodded, the knot of tension in his chest loosening just a bit. “Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate it. I just... I needed to hear that.”

Tommy clapped Joel on the shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and support. “Anytime. Just remember, if you need anything, if you need to talk, I’m here. For both of you.”

***

In the weeks following the decision to make your relationship with Joel public, you found yourselves navigating a new reality in Jackson. The once familiar streets now felt charged with curiosity and speculation. You walked through the bustling market and communal areas of the town, your hands entwined, openly displaying your affection for each other.

The reactions from the community were varied. Some greeted your union with open arms, offering congratulations and warm smiles. Others were more reserved, their curiosity evident in their glances and whispered conversations. You and Joel faced these moments with a combination of resilience and humor. Your quick wit was particularly effective at easing the discomfort of those around you.

One sunny afternoon, while you were browsing through the market stalls, an elderly woman approached you both with a skeptical look. She raised an eyebrow, peering at you from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. “So, you two are an item now?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

You turned to face her, a playful smile spreading across your face. “Yep, that’s right. Joel here is my favorite person to argue with,” you said, giving Joel a mischievous look.

Joel smirked, adding, “And she’s the one who keeps me grounded. Can’t have one without the other.”

The woman’s stern expression softened into a smile. “Well, that’s a refreshing way to look at things. Congratulations then,” She patted Joel on the shoulder and ambled away, leaving behind a sense of acceptance.

As your relationship grew, so did the depth of your connection. You and Joel became more attuned to each other’s needs and emotions. Your bond was tested and strengthened through shared experiences and mutual support. Each day brought new challenges, but facing them together made your partnership even more resilient.

One particularly trying day, after a demanding patrol that left Joel physically and emotionally drained, he returned home to find you waiting for him. The sight of you, with a warm meal and an understanding smile, was a balm to his weary spirit.

As you sat down to eat, Joel hesitated before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “Today was rough, Ash. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

Your eyes softened with concern. You reached across the table, your hand covering his. “You’re stronger than you think, Joel. We all have days that test us, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here with you, every step of the way.”

Joel met your gaze, the exhaustion in his eyes slowly giving way to a glimmer of relief. “I don’t know how I’d manage without you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

You squeezed his hand, your expression resolute. “You don’t have to manage alone. We’ve got each other. That’s what matters.”

Your relationship was not all about serious moments; it was also filled with lightheartedness and affection. Your playful banter and shared humor brought a sense of normalcy and joy into your lives.

One morning, as you prepared breakfast together, the kitchen was filled with the usual clatter of pots and pans. You were juggling two eggs and a fresh stick of butter when, in a moment of clumsiness, you dropped the eggs across the floor. Joel, standing nearby, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, looks like we’re having eggs for breakfast and a side of floor clean-up,” Joel said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You rolled your eyes, picking up the scattered pieces with a smirk. “I’m just adding a bit of excitement to our otherwise boring mornings. Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”

Joel leaned against the counter, shaking his head with an amused grin. “You and your ideas of excitement. I guess I should be grateful for the change.”

Later, as the day drew to a close and the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Joel found yourselves on the porch, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. You sat close together, the warmth of your bodies and the fading light creating a cozy atmosphere.

Joel wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently against him. “You know,” he said quietly, “for all the chaos and challenges, I wouldn’t trade these moments with you for anythin’.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice was soft and content. “Me neither. We’ve built something really special here. It’s worth fighting for, no matter what comes our way.”

As you sat together in the fading light, your bond felt stronger than ever. The shared laughter, mutual support, and tender moments of connection were the foundation of your relationship. In the midst of a world fraught with uncertainty, you and Joel had found a precious refuge in each other, a testament to the enduring power of love, humor, and unwavering support.

[604to647]

Never getting over how sweet and sexy you make the General in your fics, Jo!! 😍😍 He's perfectly insatiable and needy of his woman, and he isn't afraid to show that he needs and gets pleasure from her feeling the same (OH AND SHE DOES 🤭🤭) - they're one of my favourite couples here 🥹 Thank you for sharing more of them, babe!! 😘

(Also, you've now made it canon that big bad General Marcus Acacius sleeps hugging a pillow and I am here for it 🥰🤭)

One Fine Morning

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: You and the General start the day right.

Author’s Note: someday I may get over this man…but probably not haha! In the mean time, please enjoy him with me! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: soft sweetness, oral (m and f rec), Marcus is a dream and I want this.

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

He’s still in the same place as you left him, stretched out on his side, sheet barely covering his hips. You can see the dark trail of hair low on his navel. His bicep peeks out, full and firm, where his arm wraps around the pillow.

His hair is a mess, and wild curls fall this way and that and you smile as you walk over and run your fingers through to try and tame it.

One-minute turns into two and your fingers slip through the soft strands, over the side of his face, across the gray streaked hairs on his cheek, along his neck and down, tracing his spine.

You stare at his back, broad and muscular and miles of warm tan skin, with dips and edges in all the right places.

“Beloved?” he whispers sleepily.

He finds your fingers where they rest on his stomach and rolls to face you, sleepy eyes blinking open and then squinting at you in the morning sun.

“What is happening with this hair General?” you say as you reach out to run your fingers through it again.

“I was asleep,” he says just before he smiles. “With you.”

“Are you not needed in the arena this morning?”

“They won’t miss me if I am a little late.”

In a rush of movement, he pushes you onto your back to hover over you. His eyes make a sleepy circuit of your face and the emotion that fills his expression steals your breath.

“You should always be the first thing I lay my eyes upon when waking.”

Before you can respond he tucks his face into your neck and groans. With small soft kisses he traces the column of your throat.

He shifts, lowering his body so he’s pressed against you, hips already moving in circles.

You’re both still naked and the sensation makes your breath catch, the gentle drag of skin on skin enough to have every one of your nerve endings buzzing.

The room is cool, hidden in the back of the palace and shaded by the large trees growing just outside the window. Even so, streaks of pale sunlight still manage to break through, and they catch the dust motes in the corner, warming the foot of the bed.

His skin looks golden, like he’s lit from within.

He tracks the movement of your eyes and looks between your bodies, his gaze lingering on your breasts before he places a palm over your nipple and circles lightly, the friction just enough for it to tighten under his touch.

Feeling your reaction, he moans and says your name, sucking and kissing along your collarbone and down to your breasts. He’s relentless, sucking on one while pinching the other, and it’s enough to have you opening your legs to make more room for him, pushing your knees up around his sides.

He moves up to kiss you, tasting your top lip and then your bottom, pulling away just hard enough for it sting. You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses down your stomach, whispering how good you taste and smell, feel.

He reaches your hip bone, lingering there, sucking at the soft skin. You rock your hips up, using your grip in his hair to guide him and show him what you want.

Your head falls back against the bed, spine arched in anticipation as he moves down between your legs. His first touch is teasing, lips pressed against your inner thighs in several small kisses, and then closer, mouth soft and partially open, directly over your clit.

The air leaves your lungs, and you cry out.

“You like that my lady?” he says against you, after taking you into his mouth and sucking gently.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Again Marcus.”

He does it again, using his fingers to gently hold you open and suck on your clit, a little harder this time. He alternates between kisses and little licks, broad stripes of his tongue that have your hips lifting from the mattress, rocking up to meet him.

“Gods, yes Marcus,” you whimper. I can’t…please…”

You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, but the words bubble up, desperate and breathy.

When you realize you’re tugging hard on his hair you try to ease up, but he shakes his head, meeting your eyes for a brief moment to say, “don’t my love.”

He’s panting, cheeks pink and neck flushed right down to his chest. His mouth is red and wet and as your gaze moves down his body you see he’s touching himself.

“You want more?” he asks with a grin.

You nod, using your legs to pull him back down. He kisses the inside of your knees before sliding your legs over his shoulders.

“Pull my hair,” he growls. “Scratch your nails down my back….do whatever you want to me.”

You gasp out his name, unable to look away as he leans in again, tongue swirling around your clit. Your reminder to yourself to breathe is barely enough when he pushes one thick finger inside you, in and out, before adding another.

Heat travels up your spine and your hips arch off the bed, pushing you harder onto his face. You rock against his mouth, legs shaking and his name falling from your parted lips.

With effort your lift your head to see him kneeling over you, hand working over his gorgeous cock.

“I want that,” you tell him, and he blinks up. “Come here.”

You take his hip and guide him toward you, a leg on either side of your ribs. He reaches for his discarded tunic, bunching it up and placing it under your head, and then he just waits, chest heaving and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You open your mouth, watching the way his hand wraps around his cock and holds the head against your lips. Your tongue reaches out for a taste, and he whimpers.

He pushes into your mouth, so gently at first. You curl your hands around his hips and look up at him, hoping to convey what you want him to do. You don’t need gentle or slow. Not now.

You moan around him, and he starts to give in, spurred on by your sounds and the way you grip him tighter.

His cock slips over your tongue and he rests a palm against the wall above the bed, bracing himself, every muscle pulled taut with his restraint.

His words of praise are stuttered between shaky breaths and groans.

“My love,” he warns. “I won’t last long…”

His ass flexes beneath your hands and he’s shaking his head.

He thickens in your mouth and starts to come against your tongue, and you hear him swearing and grunting as you swallow around him.

When he finally falls to your side his hands are greedy as he pulls you into him and kisses your cheeks, your lips, your forehead. You look up to find his eyes closed, dark lashes curled against his flushed cheeks.

He shifts, leaning into your neck and inhaling deeply before exhaling a shaky breath.

His voice is scratchy. “I love you.”

You echo the words into his skin, and he kisses you with sleepy lips and holds you against his warm skin.

[mybworlds]

Into your arms, the safest place

pairing: olderboyfriend!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: You love Joel, you always have and you do everything you can to remind him of it every day.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, he's older than you, Joel is an insecure, back pain, use of you and Joel pov, not Y/N, the main character has female features, but no specific physical description so you can imagine her as you want. Established relationship, fluff moments, moments of daily life, hints of a sexual relationship, but in this one shot I'll be quite generic although some moments are precise if you know what I mean.

A/N: After reading a few posts about Joel, headcanons, etc my mind gave birth to this one-shot. I hope you like it, if you don't it's okay.

You love Joel. And he loves you. You both would do anything for each other. Even put up with things that the other finds enjoyable, but the other finds them indifferent. For example, Joel loves watching 80's movies, you keep him company, but only because you love to see his face relax and smile in front of some scene that he adores or makes him laugh and you enjoy the sight of his face relaxing for those films even if to your eyes they seem banal or unlikely. And you know that he watches reality shows with you on the couch just because he wants to see you happy by his side or watches stupid cat videos on Tiktok with you just because you giggle when you watch them waving your legs for fun.

You think about how far you've come together to be there, how many lies you've had to tell to see him, how many arguments and tantrums you've had with your parents because of your age difference.

You and Joel met at your parents' house, he had come to fix some things that were no longer working at home and that's where you shook hands and smiled warmly for the first time. You remember that you immediately found him sexy as hell, a little taciturn and brusque perhaps, but not to be criticized or despised as your mother did. At first you were around him just to follow the work he was doing, then slowly you started talking about his work, your work as a teacher, about your lives and you liked each other.

But, because of your age, Joel has always kept you at a distance in the hope that sooner or later you would meet a young man of your age rather than someone like him, a man of experience, a man with a broken marriage and a grown-up daughter who lives far away, but you've never seen other kids your age. Your best friends have also tried to dissuade you from the idea of being with Joel, but they have never succeeded even today when they ask you if you regret your choice, you always said that you love him as he is with his infinite merits and many defects.

Joel has always been afraid of losing you, he was afraid - and you're sure he still is - of losing you that you'd find him too old for you or too unattractive considering his gray hair that sprout here and there among his hair and beard every other day. But you always managed to reassure him and make him feel all your love and put aside his fears.

You managed to arouse Joel's interest from the very first moment, from when you were standing in the doorway watching him work and then you fascinated him when you transmitted to him all your love and your dedication to your work. You are a beautiful person, he remembers thinking from the very beginning. Your energy was clearly visible from the first glance and then, knowing you, he was sure of it. When you shyly confided in him that you had fallen in love with him, Joel thought it was a joke because there was no way a wonderful woman like you could want an old man like him. He later told you that he was flattered by your interest, but he pushed you to look at other boys, not at him. And you, in response, kissed him.

It wasn't easy at first because Joel realized that your family turned their backs on you because you chose him. He has always felt guilty about this, but you have never blamed him or reproached him for that. You chose him and the love you have for each other.

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months and you still haven't gotten tired of him. Every evening when he comes home from work, you welcome him with a warm smile and kiss him happily.

This evening you get up from the table where you correct your students' homework and go to meet him, smiling and kissing him.

“You are beautiful, my love,” he whispers in your ear, kissing your lips first, your cheek then and burying his nose in your hair, while he hugs you tightly and feels you kiss the crook of his neck.

“I missed you,” you coo softly kissing his graying beard, his chin and back up the other side, “You are hot as hell, babe.” It's amazing how it seems like you can almost sense what he's feeling about his scruffy beard and his increasingly graying hair.

He smiles. He remembers how uncomfortable he felt in the early days when his few friends told him that he was probably having a midlife crisis dating a hot chick like you. He blushed, maybe they were right, although he loved (and loves) you deeply. For him you were never a passing thing to be forgotten in some time, as his friends told him, you were and are always more. He's so deeply in love with you.

“I prepared a dish for you, love,” you tell him wrapping your arms around his neck “I guess you didn't eat anything, right?” You ask thoughtfully and he loves that about you too. He makes sure to tell you this every day because he's always so afraid that you might realize one day that you want more, that you want a different person by your side, that he is not enough for you.

“You're still my wonderful, gorgeous girl,” he whispers in your ear. “I'm a lucky man,” he adds, gently kissing your earlobe and you shiver. He can clearly see the shivers rippling across your skin, and when they do, he places more kisses along your neck and shoulder. He loves hearing you giggle and holding you tighter. “How was your day?” He asks, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Full, but you know I love my boys. They are always so full of creativity, energy, and then they are incredibly challenging. And. . . What?” you pause, noticing the small smile forming at the corners of his lips.

“When you talk about your students, your eyes light up.” he replies, smiling widely “I'd only go back to school if I had a teacher who knows what she's doing and who teaches with a smile on her face like you always do.”

Your smile becomes even wider if possible, “Why, what was your teacher like? Miss Rottenmeier?” you joke.

He shakes his head smiling, “No, but she wasn't beautiful as you are, baby girl.” You relax against him “Anyway, I was thinking that tomorrow night we could go out to dinner, would that be okay with you?”

“Sure, now let's go have dinner, I'm starving!” you exclaim grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen.

“You haven't had dinner yet?! Oh, poor lil thin’, I'm sorry.” He says as you sit down to eat "I'm sorry, I thought that considering the time you had eaten!" He adds sincerely sorry.

“You know that if you don't come back I won't be able to relax and eat.” You reply, biting with great gusto into the vegetable pie you had prepared.

The two of you talk at length about the new project that Joel is personally involved in, what he does, what he thinks he's going to do. His eyes light up and then you can't help but notice the passion and the energy he puts into talking about his work. It's something you've always loved about him. You remember when he told you about the fixes he was doing to your parents' house and all the technicalities he used. He probably noticed how you pursed your lips or the look on your face that you didn't understand what he was talking about and so he rephrased his words and from that moment on you never stopped talking.

You think back to that night of your first kiss, you remember how you were afraid of being rejected, but at the same time you didn't want to lose him. You noticed his ears turn red and his tone hesitant after your confession, but you knew what you wanted and most of all you wanted him.

He has always made you feel good, treated you well and with respect, he makes you happy in everything, even if he is tired after a day of hard work, just to see you happy, he would take you out to dinner. But you never asked for anything more from him than love and mutual respect.

You remember the first time you made love, you had already had other experiences, but in his arms it seemed like you had never done it, that you were still a virgin. You made love against each other's foreheads, your hot breaths mingling, your vision blurred with pleasure, even though you did everything you could to look into his eyes and don't miss a single expression of his. His hands gently cupping your face as he kissed you and thrust in and out of you sending jolts of pure pleasure up your spine.

“Whadda ya thin’?” he asks looking into your eyes and seeking your hand which he wraps in his and caresses it with a thumb.

“I was thinking about when we made love,” you answer smiling at him lasciviously "and when we met."

His smile becomes tender and his eyes sweet and soft looking almost like a puppy's. Oh, you love so much his well defined masculine features, his wrinkles.

“And I thought you never wanted to show me one of your photo albums! I'd love to see that so much,” you squeak, looking at him with doe eyes that you know make him melt.

Joel has jealously hidden them from your sight, not because he has something to hide, but because he is afraid that you might realize how old he is compared to you and that you might like him better the way he was. And so he always delayed that moment by telling you tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, but now what excuse can he make up?

“Oh, c'mon, babe, I'd love so much,” you meow using a pleading tone and kissing him in a quick, gentle motion. You know he won't be able to resist. And in fact, he rolls his eyes and after muttering a stubborn lil’ thing to you, he wipes his lips and a little piece of food on his scruffy beard, he gets up and you see him disappear into the corridor.

A couple of minutes later, he reappears in the doorway with an open album in his hands and his gaze lost in a photo. Then he looks up and immediately finds your curious, “There it is,” he says placing the heavy tome in front of you on the table “I hope you're not disappointed by the comparison between what I was and what I am.” He says with his head down, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Your expression becomes surprised and sad because you understand that Joel is afraid of losing you and that you might find him less attractive today than in photographs when he was younger.

“Never.” you just whisper to him, holding out your hand which he immediately grabs, while you invite him to sit next to you.

His photographs show a decidedly younger Joel, the wrinkles are much less visible and superficial, the beard is less thick and sparser, the expression is more tender and shy, but his eyes are always the same sweet and deep, the same ones that made you fall in love with him.

“You are so beautiful,” you whisper “and I’m so in love with you and I’m so lucky to have you by my side.” You add kissing him softly.

“Boo,” he says rubbing his nose against yours “I'm the lucky one.” He says kissing you “And I will do anything to make you happy, but please, if you ever realize that you are no longer happy with me, just tell me.”

You know you're not going to calm him down by just telling him it'll never happen, so you say, “You know me. You know how stubborn and determined I am.”

He rests his forehead against yours, “I know. And that's also why I love you, my love.” He confesses to you, while you sit on his lap. You love feeling his hands on your hips or when he holds you tightly to him. Joel, even if he doesn't speak, is able with his gaze or with his gestures to make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world. So when he tells you that if you are no longer sure of your love for him, you would also like to tell him that no one has ever made you feel as special as he does.

“Oh, baby,” he groans, pulling you closer to his crotch, “if I didn't have this terrible back pain, I'd take you in my arms and we'd go to bed right away.” He confesses to you in a hoarse voice.

“Oh, damn!” You exclaim, moving away from him and getting up from on top of him, he looks at you puzzled, “Come on, get up, let's go to bed.” He looks at you with that lewd look and you roll your eyes and snicker, “Don't be so smart, come on.”

When you're in bed, you don't really know how long you can resist him if while you're giving him a back massage he keeps grunting and moaning telling you how good you make him feel. You are practically sitting on his ass while massaging his spine, shoulder blades and hips.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he moans “I love you so much,” he adds in a whisper and you smile.

“Why do I give you amazing massages?” you tease him, continuing to move your open palms first along his back and then closing them into fists.

“Because no one has ever understood me like you do. With you, there's no need for many words. We understand each other with our eyes.”

“Are we soulmates or not, you and I?” You ask him and receive another moan of pleasure in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You add playfully.

He is so grateful for what you are doing. And when you say you are soul mates, he couldn't agree more. You are the perfect woman for him. Sometimes a little chatty, but other times the most understanding even without saying anything to you. He never thought it possible to find a love you. True love. He had always been convinced that his other half had been his ex-wife and that once he was alone, he would never have a real chance again. Then one day you came along and that was the moment he started breathing again. He thought that a young woman like you would get tired of him in a few weeks, but that's not the case. You are there for him, when he wants to vent about a problem, when he talks about his daughter who gives him a lot of trouble, when he wants to watch old movies, you listen to him, give him advice, support him and you watch movies with him, you lie down with your head on his lap and watch them with him. And he who never understood the meaning started following various trends just because you showed them to him and watching videos on Tiktok with you. And he started to love it.

“I love you, baby girl.” he says, caressing your legs in a sweet gesture. Your skin crawls as you continue. "I can feel it," he moans with his eyes closed as he continues his caress.

“What?” you ask leaning forward and placing a kiss on his shoulder, savouring the contact with his skin filling him with kisses.

He smiles, “Are you trying to seduce me?” He asks you, as you lean on top of him and brush his cheek against yours.

“I don't need to do this.” you say kissing his lips and he opens his hazel eyes “Never doubt how I feel about you, I love you and you know that in your arms I am perfectly safe. I love you, babe.”

He shifts slightly making you move from on top of him and lie down next to him where you cuddle and then make love again and again.

Joel loves the idea of you carrying his child, but he's afraid to broach the subject with you because you're young and maybe you don't want kids, maybe not yet. So he has never told you or pressured you in any way, but when he is completely buried inside you he can't help but think what it would be like if you told him you were carrying his child.

You moan deliciously in his ear his name as he makes you come and you intertwine his fingers with yours. Tonight Joel is making you enjoy like never before by giving you more than one climax. You are almost exhausted, some tears escape you and he wipes your tears away with his thick thumbs, whispering to you in a low, hoarse voice, “s’alright, baby girl, you're such a good girl fo’ me” wrapping you in his arms while you twist your face into an expression of pure pleasure as you collapse on top of him.

“I love you,” you say “Into your arms, there's the safest place”.

[guiltyasdave]

28 "No one ever cared about me like you." for Joel or Marcus Pike, please?? Thank you for writing all this amazing stuff for us <3

no one can hurt you now

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~1.2k

summary: You’ve been traveling through the country with Joel and Ellie. After finally arriving in the safety of Jackson, you realize how much Joel means to you.

tags/warnings: post outbreak, mentions of infected, fighting and blood, reader doesn’t value her life that much tbh, angst, anxiety, comfort, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n (please let me know if i missed something <3)

a/n: dearest anon, thank you so much for your kind words and for sending this prompt in! this started out as a drabble but got out of control, so i hope you enjoy this little fic 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is amazing <3

full masterlist here / follow @guiltyasdavenotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates!

The clicker’s teeth snap at you inches away from your face, your arms straining desperately to hold the creature off. A shot rings through the air and the clicker stills as blood splatters across your face.

You push the now lifeless weight off of you and try to stand back up, your shaky legs underneath you barely cooperating.

“Thanks,” you mutter, gasping for breath.

“The fuck was that?” Joel barks, the gun still grasped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles are turning white.

“It was- running at Ellie, I just-“

You’ll admit that you hadn’t really thought it through when you lunged at the clicker that had charged in the girl’s direction without any weapons in your hands. Not her, had been the only clear thought in your head. She wasn’t replaceable.

You were.

“You just what? Thought you’d get yourself killed?”

“No! I don’t know, okay? I still bought us time, and you got it, so-”

You don’t like the way he’s glaring at you, like you did something fundamentally wrong. You took a risk, yes, but his main objective is taking the girl across the country. You’re just… there.

“So?! Fuckin’ stupid, is what it was,” he snaps before he turns around abruptly and stomps further into the abandoned house that you’re hoping to spend the night in. You wait until your legs finally stop trembling before you follow him.

It’s the middle of the night when Joel finally speaks to you again. You had settled down in one of the bedrooms on the upper floor, not before searching the house extra thoroughly after the clicker incident earlier.

You can hear Ellie’s soft snores from across the room and you would have sworn that Joel was asleep too. Your mind didn’t rest, replaying the scene over and over, the way Joel snapped at you making your chest hurt each time.

“You don’t get to not make yourself a priority, you hear me? I won’t let you.”

You flinch at the unexpected sound from his corner of the room, but his voice is gentle, like he’s approaching a scared animal.

“But Ellie-” you still try to protest.

“I care about Ellie just as much as you do.” He hesitates for a second. “But I also care about you.”

You feel heat flushing your cheeks and you avert your gaze, even though it’s too dark for him to see your face anyway.

“You shouldn’t,” you mutter, “she’s the one that matters.”

“So do you,” he grumbles.

“Not like her.”

He heaves a sigh and you hear him moving closer to you in the darkness.

“Listen to me.” His tone is gruff, but you can feel the intensity behind his words. “I couldn’t- shit, I couldn’t do this alone. Just take care of yourself. Don’t be stupid. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree in a hushed voice.

You know that this is the closest that Joel Miller will ever get to admitting that he doesn’t hate you. You try to fight the feeling, but warmth is spreading through your chest at the thought that he actually wants you around, that he’s not just letting you tag along because he doesn’t know what else to do with you.

It’s your first real night in Jackson, the first time that you’ve arrived at a place and didn’t immediately make plans on where to go next. The first night that you’re spending in a real bed in god knows how long. The first night that you don’t have to sleep with one eye open, always waiting for the next danger to find you.

And the first night in a bed with Joel. Neither of you had protested when you were assigned to one house with him and Ellie. You know what Joel and you look like, from the outside. You don’t think that you care, not really.

The house has three bedrooms anyway, so it didn’t matter. At least that’s what you thought, until you had all said good night to each other and you were lying alone in the darkness, wide eyes staring up at the dark ceiling, as you were trying to stop the anxious shivers running through your body.

It was too quiet, the mattress too soft, the room too… empty. You had gotten used to the steady breathing of two other people around you, and now that they weren’t in the room with you, everything felt wrong. What if you woke up tomorrow to find them both dead, to find yourself alone in the world once more? How were you supposed to make sure they were safe when you weren’t with them?

Before you could overthink it, you got up, checked on Ellie who was sleeping soundly and padded over to the room Joel was in.

“Can’t sleep?” his low drawl had greeted you as soon as you cracked the door open.

You wordlessly shook your head and he sighed.

“Me neither. Doesn’t feel right like this, does it?”

That’s how you ended up under the covers next to him. No touching of course, both of you keeping a firm distance. This was just so you could both catch some sleep. Just for tonight.

Except that you’re still not able to let sleep drag you under. Your body is tense, acutely aware of his presence next to you, his body heat easily traveling the short distance between you. You could bridge it just as easily, just reach your hand out to - do what, exactly?

You huff out a breath and turn onto your side, shuffling the sheets with your movement.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is barely above a whisper and before you can open your mouth to respond, his fingers find your face and graze over your cheek in a barely there contact.

He had touched you before, of course, checking you for injuries, soothing you with a hand on your arm or a brush over your hair, but never like this. Never in the darkness of the night and never when you could sense the tension in the air between you, could almost feel his breath on your face. You have never been so acutely aware of the warmth of his fingers that’s seeping into your skin right now.

“I just- I never thanked you for taking me here, for taking care of me.”

It’s not what’s on the forefront of your mind, not the thing that’s plaguing you in this moment, but it’s still true, and much easier than admitting to him that feeling his body so close right next to yours has you practically burning up, has your fingers itching to touch him, to breathe him in.

Joel hums.

“You don’t have to. Of course I did that.”

You try swallowing the lump that suddenly builds in your throat.

“No one ever cared about me like you,” you admit in a whisper.

“Hey,” Joel mumbles, alarmed at the thickness of unshed tears in your voice, “come here, sweetheart.”

Both of his arms reach towards you and his hands splay over your shoulders to pull you into his chest. His warmth engulfs you and you feel the tension in your body subsiding as you’re resting your head over his steady heartbeat.

“We’re safe now,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

if you liked this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging - nothing would make me happier 🤍

[mrsmandalorian]

nonsense

-- pedro x singer!f!reader one shot

summary: a surprise visitor at your first-ever coachella performance!

second part: espresso/main masterlist /word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, drinking, drug use (edibles and smoking), switch sex, p in v, fingering, sexual teasing, pet names (mi amor, princesa, daddy, baby, baby girl, puppy, angel)

a/n: howdy everyone! was inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Coachella performance to write this. let me know if you guys want a second story to Espresso lol. i would love to hear your feedback or comments! much love to everyone!! -maddie

Coachella was one of the most famous music festivals a musician could play at. It was such an honor to be on the setlist. It is incredible to perform a night each weekend in a row. This might be the most significant break in your career. Something felt missing.

The crowd started to get excited as the set time grew nearer. The nerves shot through you as you took deep breaths. You were trying to get over the feelings going through your mind.

“Are you alright?” one of the backup dancers asks as they help you with the earpiece. As you look yourself over in the mirror, you see the beautiful outfit that was personalized to fit you wonderfully, with your hair done beautifully. 

You were ready. 

“Yes, I am ready!” You smiled at your team as you took hold of your microphone. The band starts playing one of your most famous songs. The lights went dark as the band played the first cords of the song. The crowd roared in anticipation. You slowly stepped out into the darkness and started the melody. 

The lights pour onto the stage, and the crowd goes wild. They get the first glance at you with your sexy and luxurious outfit.  You smirk to yourself at the attention as you scan through the crowd. All the exciting and loyal fans in the crowd as they sing every verse with you. You follow the dance choreography you have practiced and performed many times. Once the music was going, it was hard not to get stuck into it and forget about the hundreds of people in front of you. The crowd was going wild as they sang along to your new song. 

You continued the song as you had images of the reason for it, smirking to yourself. Pedro makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, from how he treats you publicly to the bedroom activities. A few songs highlighted the bedroom activities. You had never written such “edgy, sexy” songs before you met him. The secret love affair had made all of you so happy. He still made you content and secured in your relationship even miles and hours away from him. 

As you go through the song and move around more, you look into the VIP areas and see many familiar faces. You don’t pay much attention as you have to end the song. You were so busy entertaining your fans that you did not notice who had slipped into the VIP section alongside both of your mutual friends. You were so focused on the choreography and in your element. The show was a big deal and a performance with dances and graphics for all the songs on the giant screens. You were singing your last song of the night, which was Nonsense. It was one of your favorite songs to perform, as it gave the audience the mood for the evening. The song represented something personal to you: your secret relationship with your new lover, Pedro Pascal, the whole internet’s boyfriend. It was interesting to see social media go crazy over who the song might be for. Some had the correct answers, but it was still a new and private relationship. 

The lights fall as the melody starts. “I think that you guys will enjoy this next song! I have seen all the tiktoks, by the way.” You joke into the darkness and receive a wild response from the crowd. You take a few breaths and get into position in a very sexy pose, along with the dancers, waving at the sweet fans who can see you. 

“No (La-la, la-la) da-ah-ah, ah (Ah-ah, uh, uh, uh, yeah)”

As the song begins, the spotlight shines only on you. You scan over the crowd with a smirk. It was one of the sexy, edgy songs you wrote because of your lover. There are butterflies in your stomach from nerves to play something as personal as this song, especially for such a big and reactive crowd. 

“Think I only want one number on my phone I might change your contact to "Don't leave me alone." You said you like my eyes, and you like to make them roll Treat me like a queen; now you got me feelin' thrown, oh.”

You continued the song as you had images of the reason for it, smirking to yourself. Pedro makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, from how he treats you publicly to the bedroom activities. A few songs highlighted the bedroom activities. You had never written such “edgy, sexy” songs before you met him. The secret love affair had made all of you so happy. He still made you content and secured in your relationship even miles and hours away from him. 

The stage lights illuminate the whole stage as you walk around and sway your hips to the music. During the lyrics, you stop and try to sing with your fans as you make your way to the side of your VIP area to see those familiar faces. 

“But I can't help myself When you get close to me Baby, my tongue goes numb Sounds like blah, blah, blee”

As you sing towards the area, your eyes linger over your friend group of non-famous friends to Sarah Paulson, which causes you to smile at them. You continue to scan the section until they land on HIM. The person that this song was written about. He was being his goofy and adorable self as he sang along with you. This causes you to mess up with a blush but quickly recover as the next verse comes. 

“I don't want no one else (don't want) Baby, I'm in too deep Here's a lil' song I wrote (a song I wrote) It's about you and me (me)”

The eye contact that he held with you as you sang your filthy thoughts of him directly to him with a huge smirk. You continued to perform as you moved your hips a little more to the choreography because of him. In the following verses, you look away as you sing to your fans.

“I'll be honest Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in And when you got your arms around me Ooh, it feels so good. I had to jump the octave I think I got an ex but I forgot him And I can't find my chill, I must have lost it I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense I'm talkin', I'm talkin' (ah)”

You twirl your hair and sway your hips back to his side of the stage as your dancers follow close behind you. Make eye contact with him to ensure he is focused on you now. 

“I'm talkin' all around clock I'm talkin' hope nobody knocks I'm talkin' opposite of soft I'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts You gotta keep up with me I got some young energy I caught the L-O-V-E How do you do this to me?”

You follow the choreography correctly as you hold flirty eye contact with him. Once you go over the chorus again and start to finish the song, you stand in your final position in the middle of the stage. You send him a wink and blow a kiss, then turn your attention to your fans. 

“You guys have been absolutely the best! I hope you all enjoyed it and hope to see you again next weekend! I love you, and please stay safe!” You say after you show appreciation to your band and dancers. You wave and bow as the crowd goes wild and chant your name as the lights go down. 

As you run backstage with your crew, laughing and smiling, you give all of them well-deserved love and appreciation. Your manager is there with water and a hug.” You did amazing! They loved you!” they say as you drink your water and wipe the sweat. Now celebrate! Not too hard!”

You follow their instructions as you see your friends run up as you exit the backstage towards your tent. They all sang praises and love and hugged you. After a while, you finally met the handsome brown eyes again, but closer this time. You jog up to him in your tight-fitting outfit with a big smile as the two collide in a hug, throwing your arms around his neck. He was wearing a button-up shirt with the first set of buttons undone, dark jeans, and his oversized glasses and baseball cap. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You say with a smile as you look up to him. He smirked as he got ready to say something witty back to you. You interrupt it with a short but passionate kiss on his lips. “I’m happy you’re here! How long have you been here?” Your hands land on his exposed chest, which makes him pull you closer. 

He chuckles at you as he sees the adrenaline still pumping through you as you chatter to him. “I just decided to come to see my favorite person perform at Coachella. My schedule can wait two days. I’ve been here the whole time. You were great, beautiful.” He keeps his voice so no one else can hear your conversation. You feel his hands slide down your hips a little bit. “Also, where did you get this little number, and why haven’t I ever seen it?” Letting his thick fingers run over the design against your lower sides. 

The compliments give you a confidence boost on top of your adrenaline rush. You bite your lip as his hands wander slightly until they settle on your lower back. “I planned on changing before we celebrate, but if you like it, I can keep it on.” You whisper into his ear, then look back at his expression. 

His eyes darkened from your comment, causing him to pull you a little closer. “I like that idea,” He whispers in your ear as his lips graze your neck with a few pecks. Before you both could continue, your friends gathered you into other event areas. The group stayed together as they went to different stages to watch other artists, including Doja Cat and Lana Del Rey. 

Pedro and you both socialized and drank with all your friends as you celebrated your incredible performance. There were edibles taken sometime in all the fun. He would occasionally hold onto you as you both danced closely. You both let loose, and as you can see, everyone was far from wasted. You were letting your bodies get as close as possible, hips grinding onto his. His hands would run down your sides and tease you. Stealing kisses from each other, and the sexual tension was through the roof. 

The feeling of being watched makes you look around every once in a while. The camera flashes and excited screams from people around you made you realize that your relationship might not be that much of a secret now. Pedro and you interacted with lovely, chill fans who casually recognized you. You had some groups that would call over to Pedro as “daddy” as he played it off like a champ.

“Vamos, mi amor,” Pedro whispers in your ear as he grips his gentle hands around your waist. You meet his erotic brown eyes that make your cheeks burn hard as you squeeze your thighs together. Pedro was very facially expressive because you could read his thoughts whenever you looked into him. His thoughts were highly naughty, and it was time to go home.  “I wondered how you felt about calling it for a night and heading back to your room for a nice bath.” 

You look around at everyone in the crew and see your friends slowing their nights down, which doesn’t make you worried about causing another upset. Meeting the brown eyes again, you give him an arguing grin as you throw back your head with a laugh. 

“I thought you might like that idea, Hermosa. Let’s tell them all good night and get going,” he whispers again in your ear as he gently pulls you towards your group of friends. Both of you take the time to say goodbye to your friends and thank them for supporting you. Pedro’s loud laugh pulls you away from your friends as you meet his warm eyes. He hugs everyone and draws you into his hip with an arm around your waist. “Goodnight, everyone. Safe travels!” 

There were plenty of farewells, naughty things, and cat calls as you leaned against Pedro, who turned around with a silly face and middle finger gesture. He helps guide you to the Uber you take to your hotel room for the night. As you lay your head in his lap, the car ride was full of stolen kisses and laughter.

“You were an absolute star tonight, mi amor,” Pedro says as he traces his fingers along the straps of his outfit, letting his fingers run down to his cleavage. That last song was very cheeky. I wonder who that could be about.” 

“Thank you. It was about one of my lovers. You might know him,” You joke with him, trying not to moan. His wandering fingers turn into wandering palms as they slowly paw at your breast. 

“Oh, you are playing hard to get whenever I already have you smitten,” he mumbles, only where you could hear him. The car comes to a stop as you arrive at your hotel. You quickly get out of the vehicle as Pedro follows closely behind you. You couldn’t keep your hands off one another as you walked through the empty hotel halls. Acting as strangers whenever you encounter a person, you giggle with each other once you come back together. 

Once you find your room, Pedro checks to see if the hallway is clear. He uses a little force with his grip as he leans you against your shut door. Letting his hands explore before they landed on your bottom, kneading your ass. One of his hands comes up to cup your jaw as he lines his lips up with yours, passionately kissing yours. His body closes into yours as you let him control the situation as you follow his lead. After grinding bodies and long, passionate kisses, you pull away, trying to catch your breath as you stare up at him with your cheeks burning. “We should get inside,” you say as you turn around the door, fumbling with the door. Pedro stepped back a little and watched as you struggled a bit. 

“Why are you so frizzled, mi amor?” He whispers against your neck and presses the front of his body to your back. Feeling his stiff member against your backside along with his hot breath, almost making you moan out at contact. “Let me help you.” He helps you inside as you giggle and follow him. 

Pedro and you have been messing around for a while now. You have not discussed a relationship status or anything, but neither of you hooked up with others. He treats you like a significant other the way he respects your boundaries and doesn’t hide his affection towards you. 

“Let’s go put that beautiful bathtub you sent me a picture of yesterday to good use,” he teases you as he takes off his baseball cap, which makes his hair go all over the place. He starts unbuttoning more of his shirt as his chest becomes bare. You can’t resist running your hands down his chest as he looks at you with a smirk. 

He spanks your ass hard with a groan because of your hands on him. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says as he pats your ass to get you to start moving. Once in the bathroom, turn on the large white tub to create a perfect mix of hot and cold. He grips your hips as he runs his hands to the back of your outfit. “Whoever designed this little piece is a fucking genius. It is beautiful and flatters you greatly.” 

“Well, thank you, Pedro. I might have had you in mind when I got it designed. I was going to send you some pictures tonight whenever I came back here,” you smirked and winked at him in the mirror as he helped you undo the outfit. He kissed down your body as the fabric went off, making chills run across your body. The time apart doesn’t affect you emotionally, but how your body reacts tells the absolute truth. The way your heart rate skyrockets as his lips make their way to your mound. 

You leaned against the counter for support as your outfit fell onto the floor, leaving you only in underwear. You make eye contact with Pedro as he continues to kiss and lick down your lower half. He hooks his large fingers under the top band of your panties as he meets your eyes for approval. You give him a slight nod and grin as his feather-like kisses follow the material as he pulls them down your legs. Throwing your head back as you try not to make a noise as he runs his tongue just above your clit. You make a frustrated groan as his tongue suddenly leaves your skin, leaving goosebumps. 

Pedro chuckles softly as he sees how your body reacts to him, pulling away with a smirk on his lips. He stands up as he pushes his body against yours, pulling your hips into his. “You are such a good girl for me. Your body is always ready for me,” he whispers as he ducks his head to kiss your neck. “Let’s go in, mi amor.”  He gets in first so you can sit in between his thick thighs. He helps you as you slide in between his legs, back against his chest. His rigid member pressed against your lower back, his hands tease your nipples after you get settled. He couldn’t help but let his hands wander as he settled comfortably behind you. He rubs out your sore body but lets his hands focus on your most sensitive spots.

His gentle but firm hands run on either side of your hips as his kisses lay on your shoulders. He inhaled deeply against your skin, causing you to tense up your back as it chills down your spine. He moves his hands from your hips towards your mound. You used one hand to spread your left leg apart, holding it still with just one large hand. His right hand found its way down to tease your slit, playing with your sweet lips. You felt the member on your back begin to throb as he slightly rubbed himself against you. You let out your needy moans and sounds continuous as he worked his fingers against you. 

He kept teasing you and kissing your shoulder and neck with his scruffy face. You had enough of his teasing and rigid member. It was rare that you switched roles, but you were both switches. (You can’t tell me that Pedro is not a switch.)  You slide out of his grip as you meet his eyes once you are turned around to face him. 

You grasp onto his rigid member, holding yourself up on the sides of the tub. He squirms and lets out a moan as you hold yourself over him. “I’m tired of the teasing, Pascal. It’s my turn,” you say as you ease your entrance slowly onto his throbbing tip. You find a comfortable position for your legs as you keep going up and down on his tip. He lets out a loud ‘fuck’ and moans as he squeezes his eyes close. His hands move to your hips, letting you take control. You start to ride him as you push your breast into his face. 

One of his hands moved from your hips to grip your tit, “who gave you permission to touch me?” You whisper almost into his ear as he looks up at you with big brown eyes. 

“Sorry, miss,” he whimpers back as your speed of volatile movements onto his cock increases. He leans back and rests his arms on the back of the tub as he lets you ride the hell out of him. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes as he groans out in pleasure. “Fuck, mi amor.” 

“You like this, don’t you?” You firmly ask him as you force his face into the middle of your tits. He starts to motorboat your breast as you suffocate him gently. The scruff from his face makes you more sensitive than you thought, riding his member harder. “You start fucking me hard, baby. Thrust your big cock into me.”

He meets your eyes with pleasing brown eyes to satisfy your needs. His pleas make you smirk as you nod. Pedro begins to slam his hips into you, moaning as he does. “Thank you, thank you for letting me fuck you.” He pants as he thrusts deep inside of you, feeling his throbbing member hitting every spot. 

He grips your body, and his thrust begins to become more rapid as you continue to ride his giant member. Every thrust has the purpose of pleasing you; his hand works its way back up to your breast. He plays aggressively with your nipple, pinching and sucking on it. His other hand gripped onto your ass as his rhythm stayed deep and hard. The overstimulation of his hands and the member inside of you causes you to scream out in pleasure, “Good puppy.” You whimper as you feel your orgasm coming sooner as he leans up and thrusts into you. Pedro chose the pet name on one of the first nights you had taken control of the action.

Eventually, with his rapid thrust and wandering hands,  your body starts to shake as you are overcome with pleasure. “Keep going, puppy,” you whimper as he continues to work out your orgasm. “Such a good puppy.” You whisper as you run your hands over his chest. Your body falls into his as you overcome your orgasm, gripping onto his as he continues to pleasure you. He pulls out and fingers your wet pussy, licking his fingers after you finish.  

You both lay in the tub for a while as you overcome your orgasm. He held you as you came down from your high, kissing your head. “Was that good for you, mi amor?” He asks gently as he pulls you into his chest. He moved the hair from your face, rubbing his hands down your waist. 

You gently nod against him as the day catches up with you. After a few minutes, you get tired of the cramped space of the tub. “Let’s get out, baby,” you mumble to him as you lean up, earning a grunt in return. The guilt of not pleasuring Pedro silently overcame you as you exited the bathtub. 

The sound of a low grunt makes you return to the tub as the broad man emerges. You smile mischievously at him as he glances up to meet your grin. His member is still very much erect as he steps in front of you. The fun part of being switch partners was that it could change in a flash. You give Pedro a knowing look as he meets your eyes and stands before you. His eyes and grin light up on his face as he gently guides you onto the counter behind you. “My turn, princesa,” he mumbles and spreads your legs apart as he pushes himself in between them. He pulls your body towards the edge of the counter so your legs wrap around him.

You lean your back against the counter as he holds your lower half, rubbing his throbbing cock against your slick entrance. He leans over your body, sucking on one of your nipples to get a reaction out of you, which it did as you let out a loud moan. Your body reacted as well as it pushed farther onto his member. You both let out a pleasurable sound as his tongue runs down your chest to your stomach. Your hips start to tease him as they grind against him, which causes him to spank the side of your ass.  “No, ma’am, it’s daddy’s turn,” he smirks up at you as he moves one of his hands to your nipple. His fingers quickly fondle your right nipple as you moan loudly. “You let daddy fuck your sweet, sweet pussy?” 

You let out a satisfied groan as his hand moved down your entrance, gently rubbing you as his thumb ran over your sensitive clit. After gently teasing your pussy with his fingers, he lubed himself up with his fingers from your wetness. His large member enters you again as he holds onto your hips. He pushes inside slowly as you both let out moans. 

“You’re so fucking wet, angel. Did ya miss daddy?” He asks as he grips your hips harder, thrusting inside of you. You give a desperate nod as your hands grip onto the edge of the counter. Pedro takes his time as he edges himself in and out of you, giving you all the praises. He pulls up your upper body so your bodies grind against one another, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding your back. “Good girl.”

The friction from the position on your mound makes it hard not to moan and squirm in pleasure. His thrust becomes more rigid and repetitive as his grip holds you gently but firmly. You could feel your orgasm approaching as well from the position. “I’m about to cum, Daddy,” you whimpered as you gripped his firm broad shoulders. 

His mouth meets your ear as he groans into your ear. His heavy breathing makes your back arch and push into his thrust more. “Wait for me, baby girl,” he mumbles into your ear as his thrust becomes more sloppy. “Come for me, angel.” He sets you down on the counter as his hands grip your breast, twiddling your nipples with his thick fingers.

Before long, both of you came together with your bodies grinding against one another, along with satisfied noises. 

Pedro’s warm brown eyes meet yours before he kisses you. The two of you might not have a title, but the sparks were there every touch. “Such a good girl, angel,” he says as he gently pulls out of you. “Let’s take a quick shower.” He helps you into the shower, where the two of you help wash one another and joke around with stolen kisses in between. After getting ready, Pedro carries you into bed as the two of you order dessert from room service. The rest of the night was full of laughter and heavy makeout. The two of you cuddle up to some cheesy movie and fall asleep midway through it. 

These were the perfect nights for you to write a whole album about your feelings for this cheeky, handsome man. 

thank you for reading! let me know what you think!🤍

[punkshort]

'somewhere to run' masterlist

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Series Summary: You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.

Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, angst, slow burn, smut (18+ MDNI), domestic violence (mostly just talked about or implied, nothing too descriptive, i will put a big warning on those chapters), implied SA (nothing descriptive), jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol use, drug use (not by Joel or reader), technical infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter but these are the biggies

Status: complete

Chapters:

1: a fresh start

2: book club

3: the statement

4: the carnival

5: first date

6: the confession

7: break the chain

8: restrained

9: three lies

10: austin

11: austin pt. 2

12: the trial pt. 1

13: the trial pt. 2

Epilogue

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:

Joel's Morning Routine

Police Station Layout

Love Languages

Joel's Likes & Dislikes

[baronessvonglitter]

Like a Good Girl Should

mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)

Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!

I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

divider by @saradika-graphics👑

You fucking hate Joel Miller.

He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.

With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.

He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.

Not that you've looked..

And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.

Not that you listen.

He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.

When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.

You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.

Joel.

You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.

You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.

Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.

"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."

"Try me," you dare him.

The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.

"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.

"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.

He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."

"This isn't your fucking house!"

"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"

"Then I'm moving out!"

"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"

"You gonna stop me?"

He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."

In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.

"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."

"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.

"So what if I am?"

"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."

His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.

"Let me go!"

He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."

"Don't call me a brat!"

He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."

"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.

"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."

You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"

A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.

"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"

"You wouldn't!"

A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.

"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."

You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.

"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."

You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"

He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."

He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.

One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.

"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.

You're too stunned to move or speak.

He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.

You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"

"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.

You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.

"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.

"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.

"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.

Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.

"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.

"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.

He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.

"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."

The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.

"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.

"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."

The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."

"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.

"Please," you whine.

"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.

"Yes.. yes, sir."

He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."

Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."

His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"

"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.

He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"

Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."

"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.

"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."

What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.

"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.

He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.

"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"

"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."

You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"

This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.

He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.

He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.

Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.

"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"

Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."

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