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snowflakeanimelover · 1 year ago

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A Misunderstanding That Leads To a Gift

Relationship: Doctor Stephen Strange x Female reader

Fandom: Marvel Universe, Doctor Strange, (Pre-movie)Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

Warnings: Spoilers of beginning of the movie Doctor Strange: MoM, other than that nothing else of the movie is mentioned, a little angst, lots of backstory, cute, fluff, major fluff, kisses, Wong deserves a hug, fight, argument, jokes, hot doctor strange because yes, hugs, friends to lovers, kinda shy reader, nice reader, A LITTLE SPICY AT THE END

Summary: Reader has known Doctor Stephen Strange since medical school. She doesn’t know how she grew to be friends with him, despite his horrible personality, and even grew to like him. But as time passes, and the doctor comes back better than ever, especially as a hero, their relationship becomes more. But all hope and happiness can be changed quickly, all because of a misunderstanding. Reader starts to get tired of his many excuses of canceling their plans to hang out, but what happens when a little misunderstanding somehow brings them closer?

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Author note: Helllooo it has certainly been a long time since I’ve written a one-shot on here….very sorry! Will probably be writing more Doctor Strange stuff cause I am currently obsessed with him. Also write this one-shot in one go and my fingers burnnnn. Anyways, hope someone enjoys this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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It was just for one night. (Y/n) had to remind herself that not only was this the fiftieth time he had canceled on her, but that he was also a hero and could be very busy. She couldn’t be mad at him. She understood his reasons, even though his reasons were quite stupid before he became a sorcerer.

(Y/N) knew Doctor Stephen Strange back in medical school. He was a cocky bastard who only cared about fame and money. He would turn down so many suffering patients, only because their problems weren’t interesting enough and didn’t improve his reputation as the best doctor around.

Why was she friends with a guy like him? You may ask. Well, only she knew the soft side that he kept hidden. She wasn’t sure how it happened, or doesn’t really remember how they met in medical school, but she knows him to be a soft character on the inside.

Back before he became a sorcerer and learned magic, he was a man who loved his job only because of the money and being the most popular doctor out there. (Y/N) found herself having peaceful and meaningful conversations with him quite often…that was his soft side. He joked, had witty comments, and was kind enough to give small gifts for her birthday or for major holidays. She even noticed the soft smiles he’d give her at the end of their conversations before they had to depart and take care of a patient.

But because he was so busy as a famous doctor, (Y/N) and Stephen never went out on friendly hangouts, like normal friends, as much as they’d liked. There were times where they celebrated, and Stephen asked (Y/N) out to a nice dinner. (Y/N) did her best to bring him out at times, too.

And he had said he enjoyed their time together outside of work.

Yet, deep down, (Y/N) knew he’d rather be with someone else than her. She knew Christine Palmer, a fellow and nice doctor, to be in his eyes at all times. (Y/N) always caught him staring at her from time to time, even while in the middle of a conversation, and as she stood at the end of the hallways.

It was hard on (Y/N). And being her usual caring self, she left it be and gave them space. She figured that she’d find someone else. As time passed, she didn’t find anyone to keep her company for the rest of her life, but she did become close once again with the famous Doctor. Although, now….he’s a hero.

“Magic…?” (Y/N) was appalled. Thrilled, even, by hearing what he could do now. He was gone for months and he comes back with some magical abilities and a new look. She had to admit the new look…looked rather good on him.

She also noticed the way he smiled more. The deep fame-craving demon inside of him so long ago has now disappeared and is replaced with adventure, curiosity, and maturity.

He had changed. And in a good way.

Stephen smiled briefly, one corner of his mouth tipping upwards, almost covered by his fancy mustache. “Yeah. Weird, isn’t it? Never thought I’d come back with…this,” he gestures to his new outfit. Ancient-like styled blue robes covered his body, as well as a vibrant red cloak hanging off of his shoulders. A gold oval case-like medallion was positioned on his chest, attached to his clothes.

(Y/N) had to admit that the outfit had her staring longingly at him more.

“That is…weird,” she says slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, “in a good way! Of course…I mean, it’s super cool.”

“You think so?” He starts, but puts a finger up as if to stop her from saying anything yet, “Wait, the outfit, or the magic?”

(Y/N) lets out a giggle, “Both, actually. Both are really cool. The outfit…I think it suits you.”

Stephen keeps his smile, “Well, at least I have that going for me. Your opinion means a lot.”

And since that encounter, they have gotten even closer. He tries to hang out with her as much as he can, when he isn’t trying to save innocent lives and the entire world or universe. At some point, it became a bit difficult for him to arrange any meetings, so he came to a conclusion.

“Visit the Sanctum?” (Y/N) could feel her jaw drop at the thought of being in such a sacred place. Well, she knew it wasn’t really sacred, but it was an important place for the sorcerers. She had never been there, and had only heard so much by the doctor himself and his companion, Wong. “I did…say it right, right?” The many vocabulary words spoken by the sorcerers is a bit much for her brain to handle.

Stephen chuckles at her last question, softly patting her hand. The soft wind in the park fought against the few black strands of his hair that had escaped his specific hairstyle. They sit on the bench, talking about their lives and what they missed.

“Yes, you said it right. And yes, you should visit. In fact, you can visit anytime. I’ll be there most of the time, anyway.”

The excitement (Y/N) felt of seeing him more often than not was almost overwhelming. She could tell he could see right through her, about ready to bounce off the walls with questions and happiness.

Since then, she had come by the Sanctum practically everyday, when she wasn’t busy. She felt as if she had no place but by Stephen’s side. Usually, on his most busy days, she sat and read a book, or asked Wong a few questions while Stephen worked and studied.

It came to a point where they set up a guest room just for her. In case she ended up staying far later than usual and she had a room to sleep in.

But not all things were to go as smoothly as she’d like.

The past few times of trying to go out to a meal, go for a walk, or anything else, Stephen had canceled on her. (Y/N), at first, didn’t mind at all. He was a busy man and had good reasons to cancel. Such as saving lives. (Y/N) even noticed how much he cared about her feelings when he canceled. She hadn’t ever heard him apologize so much in her life.

Then one night, he canceled on her once again. But this time, (Y/N) was very upset about it. She couldn’t do anything about it, though, as his reason was going to save the world once again.

In fact, she was so upset, she tried to avoid seeing the doctor as much as she could. She figured that stopping by the Sanctum one early morning to return a book she borrowed from Wong could help her not run into Stephen…but it was too difficult to say no to Wong when he offered her to stay for breakfast.

The tension in the room was heavy, (Y/N) noticed, as she quietly ate her breakfast. It was quite good, actually, and she always enjoyed the rare moments Wong made meals. She tried to keep her eyes trained anywhere but on Stephen, who sat at one end of the table, also eating his breakfast. His usual blue robes were on. His ‘work clothes’ he called them.

The silence was almost too much to stay in the presence of. (Y/N) tried to eat her breakfast quickly, without it being obvious, so she could leave. But Wong cleared his throat before she could shove the last few mouthfuls of her food, grabbing their attention.

“So…am I missing something, or did you two get in a fight?” The man finally asks, breaking the awkward silence.

They sure did get in a fight the night he canceled on her. She snapped at him over the phone on accident, but the deed was done and she actually felt good about saying something to him. It felt good to let out her frustrations once in a while, instead of holding them in. Since that phone call, they hadn’t really been talking to each other.

When the two didn’t respond to Wong, he decided to shrug his shoulders and leave it be. “I see. It’s none of my business,” he says, backing off, “Anyways, I heard Christine is having a wedding. Are you two going to go?”

(Y/N) remembers the invitation Christine sent her, and how happy she felt at seeing such exciting news. But her mood sours once again when Stephen nods. “Yes. Well…maybe. I don’t know yet,” he stumbles over his thoughts.

“Ah, well, I would assume so since you went to help her the other night. How did that go, by the way?” Wong asks innocently.

The loud clang of (Y/N)’s fork hitting the glass plate echoes throughout the room, causing the two men to freeze and look at her. She had never held such a mighty glare towards the man she loved. And she can tell it’s affecting him, by the way he flinched as soon as their eyes met.

Stephen helping Christine with her wedding wasn’t a big deal. Of course, it wasn’t, since they are close friends. But (Y/N) remembers Stephen being so busy lately, he hasn’t had a chance to hang out with her. So when in the hell did he have the time to help Christine?

“When was this?” She grits out past her teeth.

Wong leans back in his chair, slightly concerned by his friend's reaction. “Two nights ago, I believe?”

“You canceled our plans to go help Christine with her wedding?!” (Y/N) snaps, abruptly standing up from her chair.

Stephen jumped at her words and stood up, as well. “No, no!” He blurts out, his hands flinging up in some kind of surrender. “It’s not what it looks like-“

“Not what it looks like!” She scoffs, “Stephen! Those plans were important to me! I got a promotion for my dream job, something I have wanted for a long time, and we planned it! Way before your little date with Christine!”

He looked taken aback by her words, a little confused on why she called it a date when it wasn’t anything close to it. Hell, she’s getting married to another man. “Date? (Y/N), you need to calm down and let me explain-“

“Yeah, when pigs fly!” She huffs, but points a finger at him after she realizes what she said, “don’t even think about it.” Stephen nodded, fighting a smile at her random and aweful comeback. “What I mean is that you can think about what you did and apologize to me. That night was important to me, Stephen, and you lied to me about it! You said you were saving the world! …I thought we were friends…”

(Y/N) doesn’t give him time to respond as she walks out of the room, as fast as she possibly could without tripping and making a fool out of herself. She ignored the call of her name by the doctor as he ran after her.

“(Y/N), stop!” His raised voice almost startled her, if she weren’t so upset.

She didn’t stop, though. But suddenly, in a blink of an eye, she finds herself walking right through a sparkly portal and right behind Stephen. She was still in the same hallway, just transported farther back then she just was. “Don’t you dare use your magic on me!”

Stephen turns around and places a firm grip on (Y/N)’s upper arms before she could walk off past him. He looked annoyed more than anything as a heavy sigh leaves his lips, struggling just a little against her nudges of getting out of his grip.

“Would you just…listen?”

Realizing he wouldn’t let her go anytime soon, (Y/N) holds her breath and stays still, allowing him to continue. “Look, yes I canceled our plans to go help Christine with her wedding plans, but,” he pauses, his light blue-gray eyes looking right into (Y/N)’s, “Christine told me there was going to be a fireworks show at this restaurant in a couple of days. I wanted to ask you to move our dinner to that day, so we can properly celebrate your promotion…”

His voice was so soft, it was starting to get difficult for (Y/N) to be mad at him anymore. In fact, all she felt was guilty at hearing his words. He didn’t cancel their plans just to hang out with his past crush, he canceled because he wanted to make better plans.

“But you yelled at me over the phone before I could explain that… so, I’m sorry for not saying it earlier.”

“Oh, Stephen…” she gasps lightly, feeling her eyes burn as tears well up, “Oh my god…no, I’m sorry for not listening to you. I’m such a horrible friend…” she stresses. Her hands ring through her hair as she looks away, too embarrassed to look at him.

Stephen doesn’t say a word while he brings her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her back and softly rubbing it to comfort her. “It was just a misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about…I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

A few tears slip down (Y/N)’s cheeks, her head resting against his chest. He rocked their bodies back and forth gently, soothing her to an extent. She could feel his chin resting on the top of her head. She felt so at home in his arms. “God…I’m so sorry, Stephen. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

A light chuckle escaped his lips, his chest rumbling at the action, “Yeah. Go to dinner with me. As a date.”

She couldn’t help but to gawk at him as soon as they separated, her eyes so wide the man smiled in triumph. “A…a date? As in, like…”

“A couple, yeah,” he concludes. His hands rub her shoulders from time to time, as if he didn’t want to let her go, “If you’ll have me…that is.”

It took (Y/N) a few moments to realize she was still holding her surprised expression, making the sweet moment a bit awkward. She quickly snaps her mouth shut, her head nodding as she tries to find the words. “U-uh, yes! I mean, yeah…of course, Stephen…”

The doctor smiled so wide, it was quite heartwarming for her to see. She smiled, too, at their new relationship. She didn’t know what to do next. Her body practically rocked on its own as she stood there, her eyes having a hard time looking into his. (Y/N) could feel her cheeks grow warm by how embarrassing this was.

Stephen took the liberty of moving his hands from her shoulders to cupping her cheeks, bringing her to look into his eyes. He slowly moved in, lips softly connecting with hers in a slow, heated kiss.

It felt as if it lasted for an hour, but it was only a few seconds. It was slow, passionate, sweet, and so warm, she didn’t want him to stop. Their eyes briefly open when their lips separate and their breaths fan over each other's faces as they try to regain what little air they lost.

Love is what (Y/N) saw in his eyes as they stared at each other. And she felt all the more connected with him. No words were spoken, too busy studying the face of the other. Studying what feelings they had for each other. And, soon, their lips lock once more.

This time was more heated than the last.

“I’ve always wanted to do that with you…” Stephen mumbles between kisses, unrelenting of letting her go.

(Y/N) giggles at his words, realizing how cheesy they were, “Me, too.”

— — — —

Bonus(Kinda spicy):

“So, uh…why did you lie to me? You know…why didn’t you say you were helping Christine?” (Y/N) decides to bring up later that night. Her body was snugged up under Stephens arm as they read some books together. A quiet, perfect moment, to cuddle and for Stephen to work.

She could feel the man go tense under her body, and he smoothly rubbed her arm with the arm that was hanging on her shoulders. “I…uh…panicked,” he says slowly, turning a page in his book.

“Panicked?” she repeats, scooting herself back a little to look at his face. He met her eyes before he raises his eyebrows in question, “Doctor Stephen Strange…panicked? Never thought I’d see the day…” she mumbles, turning back to her book.

He scoffs, wrapping his arm over her shoulder once more, “Really? It was difficult to say the truth when you were yelling at me for canceling again. Figured it’d make things worse…”

(Y/N) hums, her head finally leaning back against his chest as she read, “You deserved that, by the way.”

“Are you trying to stir something up?” he sighs, faking to sound annoyed. She could feel his breath against her neck as he closes in, his warm and soft lips touching her skin as he softly kisses the spot, “‘cause it’s best not to start something if you think you can’t finish it.”

A giggle escapes her lips when he carefully takes the book from her hands, his body leaning more and more onto her and against the couch, trapping her under him. “You think I can’t finish something I started?” her lips touch his in a quick, passionate kiss, “because I’m ready to prove you wrong.”

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joelsdagger · 1 month ago

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only then, i am good || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, dd/lg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx

You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory.

You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.

They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up.

You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed.

You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.

Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again.

When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer.

The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.

Joel.

You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.

“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious.

You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.

A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there.

“It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.

But you don’t really believe him.

You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again.

“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”

You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.

“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately.

A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed.

His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought.

You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes.

Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible.

“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.

You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.

Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak.

He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.

You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright?

You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find.

His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own.

“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.

You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy.

You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.

But Joel doesn’t give you enough time.

Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this.

He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact.

“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him.

“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?”

You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly.

Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway.

“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.

“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose.

Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips.

“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently.

By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more.

Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it.

“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly.

And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable.

For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken.

But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.

You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.

Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.

“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away.

He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.

The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn.

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”

He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.

The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur.

Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command.

“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.

His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.

And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.

“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.

He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of, ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on.

His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm.

His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin.

It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.

“Daddy–oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release.

Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”

He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.

Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.

As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.

#i'm fighting for my life so if anyone sees my husband tell his ass to come home asap!!!!#anyway this goes out to my homies who are perfectionists who think the world will implode over one small mishap #it won't and ily ❤️‍🩹#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #daddy!joel #tw daddy kink #noelle's workshop

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