#this and the part where miller helps you get back up to your feet asking whats wrong after you pass out. for reasons

[munch-mumbles]

gif i made real fast for my discord profile, one of my fav little moments in 2033

[prettyboykatsuki]

objects in the mirror | j. togame

✮ tags ; afab!reader + fem!reader, reader is so painfully dense / naive, ambiguous relationships, friends to ???, somewhat unrelieved sexual tension, sex toys, guided masturbation kinda, kissing, groping, nipples play, squirting, dialogue heavy, vaguely post canon, petnames (kame-chan and jo-chan for togame, baby for reader) 18+

✮ wc ; 6.4k (you have got to be fucking with me)

✮ a/n ; the one fic i wont be mad if you ask for part two on lolol. title from a mac miller song (my favorite mac miller song) that reminds me of a lot of characters but i felt really fit this fic.

go listen to it. his best track. also this like... mega got away from me. togame sorry for blueballing you.

✮ synopsis ; your only goal is to have a half-way decent orgasm. togame, as your best friend, is determined to help you reach it.

"So," Togame leans back into your bed. "You bought a vibrator and... can't use it? Because you keep psyching yourself out?"

"Yeah," You sigh with your head hung low. "Paid good money for it and it's collecting dust in my drawer. I'm miserable."

Togame smiles a little from where he's laid across the width of your bed, back propped up against the wall slightly with his legs hanging off one edge. You kick his side lightly as he fails to contain his amusement.

"Do you enjoy seeing me suffer, huh? You take amusement in my pain, you bastard?"

"Pfft," He snickers, turning a little to face you better. "It's kinda hard not too. Just seems..."

"You think it's stupid," You frown. He scratches his jaw.

"I wouldn't say that. A little silly but—"

"Which is another word for stupid," You point out. He shakes his head.

"The connotations different. Stupid would mean I'm insulting you. I don't think it's stupid. Ridiculous, maybe." And then he laughs to himself like a jackass. "No... I take it back. It's definitely ridiculous."

"You asshole. I should kick you out of my house."

He smiles knowingly, lazy and bemused. "You're not gonna,"

Smug bastard. You groan in defeat. "But I should."

He doesn't reply, brushing you off as easy as ever. "Sorry. Just not sure what exactly you want me to do with that information."

You throw your hands up in the air. "I dunno? Fucking help me. Offer solutions. Use whats left of your brain after getting the shit beat out of you as a teenager. Something."

"Now who's being an asshole." He quips. You frown.

"I'm sorry," You say easily. Togame smiles softly though you miss it while you're looking away. "But...ugh."

"Got such a way with words." He hums sarcastically before sobering a touch. He's scrolling through his phone not entirely paying attenion. "I don't really get why you're askin' me. Don't you have better candidates for this conversation?"

You give him a long-suffering look. "No. Unfortunately I live here, so the answer is not really. I can't talk to Kotoha or Tsubaki about this. We talk about guys and stuff but it's usually pretty PG."

"So I'm your stand in for a girl best friend?"

You tilt your head. "Huh? No. You're just my best friend. I would bitch to you about this either way."

He stares at you for a long while before scrubbing a hand down his face. You can't understand his sudden reaction, watching in confusion as he takes a deep breath.

"Right. Right, I'm your best friend." Togame mutters mostly to himself, sighing before going back to his usual demeanor. He rubs his under his eye. "Really dunno what you're asking for. You can whine however much you want, though."

"I'm not whining," You pause before sighing again. "Okay. Maybe I am whining, like, a little. But you would too if you were me, okay? I want to..." You make a face, the words suddenly feeling clumsy on your lips. You're not even doing anything and you're getting all weird about it. "I just wanna...cum."

Togame pauses. He sits up, sort of suddenly after that and finally has the decency to take off his boots. He scoots to the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor to do it, and you can't see his face when he speaks again. You don't think twice about it.

"Have you not? Like... ever?"

"Huh? No, I have but it's not really satisfying. It doesn't scratch the itch for me, you know? That's what the toy was for."

Togame takes another minute or two of silence as he takes off his boots. You wonder if it always takes him so long to take them off. Seems inconvenient.

He goes back to laying down, leaning on the wall with his legs spread out. "What kinda toy is it anyway?

"Oh, it's—" You stop in the middle of your sentence, brow furrowing. "Wait. Should I be telling you this?"

"Are you suddenly gaining self-awareness? Little late for that." He smiles.

"That's true," You reply, relaxing again with your arms crossed. "Nothing complicated. A rabbit vibrator, but the kinda expensive ones."

"How much?"

"Twelve-thousand yen. I got it on sale too,"

"No wonder you're so peeved you can't use it," Togame comments evenly. "A lot of money to be collecting dust. You even take it out the box?"

You deflate all over again. "Yeah. Charged it. Cleaned it too. But I put it back."

"Lemme see,"

"Huh? Oh, okay. Sure."

You don't bother asking why Togame wants to see your sex toy. It doesn't occur to you that there'd be any reasons outside of plain curiosity which you can understand. Togame dated a girl long-term so he knows some things, but you figure any girl with a decent boyfriend wouldn't need to make the same use of toys as you do. It'd make sense he's never seen one up close and personal.

You scoot to the edge of the bed and lean slightly as you open the side drawer and pull the toy out where it sits in nice, cardboard package. You pass it off to Togame before sitting back comfortably against your headboard.

He sits the box in his lap and stares at it for a long while.

You wonder if this is weird.

It doesn't bother you much either way, but it it is...

Odd, just how long Togame stares at it. He undoes the top of the folded box, pulling it back to reveal the soft, baby blue vibrator. It's six inches long and curved, with a soft rubber attachment to stimulate your clit and angle for your g-spot at the same time. Made with a high quality velveteen silicone. It has a lot of settings, and does the sort of rumbly vibrations you know feel good as opposed to the mechanical buzz of cheaper kinds.

Completely unused, Togame holds in his hands for a while, grabbing it by the ends. He doesn't touch it in a way that's weird. More like he assesses it. Measures it. You don't know for what though.

"It's cute."

"Huh?"

"The vibrator, I mean." Togame comments, putting it back in the box. His expression is unreadable. Something simmers under the surface of his neutral face but you can't place what exactly. "It's a cute color and the little pointed part here is cute."

You place a hand on your chest and close your eyes in sincerity. "Thank you. I also think I have excellent aesthetic taste."

Another pause. Brief but not.

"Do you want help using it?"

"Wha—"

"The vibrator," Togame clarifies before you get through the rest of your sentence. "Do you want me to help you use it?"

Your mind blanks. Your mouth moves faster than you can.

"...In what way?"

Togame remains steady. "Getting you comfortable and putting in you. As far as solutions go, it's the best I've got."

...Huh?

"Wouldn't that be awkward for you?"

"Is it awkward for you?" Togame replies back.

You stop to consider the question then shake your head.

"I mean...It's you. I trust you and I'm grateful but this..." You furrow your brow and look towards him. "Can you really do something like that with me? Just to help me?"

"Yeah." He replies. The words come so easily to him you're startled. Was he always this casual? You guess in a way but still. It's surprising. "It's the most direct route to solve your problem, I think. Once you've done it once with someone else, you'll definitely be able to do it alone right?"

You reason about this and find it's a somewhat optimal solution. You can't figure out the exact source of your unease about all of it, though it's there. You can't figure out Togame either. You appreciate how much he seems to want to help you but it doesn't make your worries go away.

You frown a little deeper.

"You're thinking about it too hard." Togame interjects. His tone is warm and easy.

"You're not thinking about it hard enough," You respond back. "What are you trying to do anyway? To help."

"Scratch the itch for you. Just think of it like that."

"Does that do anything for you?"

He dodges the question. "Don't worry about me. I'm offering. Promise it's fine."

You frown with your legs crossed, staring at the empty space of the bed. "...I g-guess it's fine? I can't think of a reason to say no."

"You don't mind doing this with me? Or is it because you're okay with anyone?"

You shake your head.

"What are you saying? Of course it's because you're the one asking. I trust you."

He smiles genuinely at that, eyes closed in what seems like relief. "I just wanted to make sure."

Togame opens his eyes again and casts them your way. Your breathing feels shallow under the weighted glance. He sits up a little more and shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, placing it on the pillow next to you. He feels broader without the layer of fabric over his torso, white shirt stretching over his frame as he sits on the bed on his knees.

"Lay down. Get comfortable."

You nod, adjusting the pillows and things and trying not to feel self-conscious or get cold feet. It speaks to your desperation that you're taking this help so willingly and from your long time best friend no less. In the back of your head, you do feel a little strange.

Togame is just being a good friend, that's what you tell yourself. You believe it too.

He hovers above you first. You tilt your head to look at him, the short gap of space between you feeling particularly small while also being miles wide. Your stomach flutters as Togame's eyes fix on your lips.

He leans forward and presses his mouth to yours. It's chaste. You wonder if you look even half as surprised as you feel.

"What was that for?"

"Breaking the ice."

You mumble. "Oh..."

Togame kisses you again that time, and then one more time before speaking up. "You're so naive."

"Huh? No I'm not,"

He brushes you off again that time before sitting up again. He sits between your legs where you have them spread. You have no idea what he's thinking or why he's doing this.

Unlike most people, you usually do have a good read on what Togame is feeling. He's upfront most of the time, despite his posturing seeming wishy-washy. It's a little weird to feel so out of bounds around him, like he purposely has his guard up. You wonder if that guard is for you, or for him. Is he uncomfortable somehow? Is he trying not to hurt your feelings by not being interested? You're not really expecting that.

But if that were the case, there's no reason he would help you this way.

Before you get too entranced in your thoughts, Togame snaps you out of them.

"How do you normally do this?"

You blink and look up.

"Do what?"

"Get off," Togame answers. Your eyes meet and you find yourself wanting to look away. "You said it was unsatisfying so I thought it'd be better if we started there,"

"Uhm," You feel embarrassed trying to talk about this. You're not sure why. It's not something you'd feel self-conscious outside this specific context but Togame just seems more... intense then usual. Like he's being serious about your silly problem. "D-depends? Sometimes I watch porn or listen to audios or read. Not always."

"Got it. How do you touch yourself then?"

He looks expectant. You turn your head to look away from him. The minutes tick by.

"Uhm... just rubbing my c-clit usually. I have uhm, other toys I'll use sometimes too but I need to touch my clit to get off." You wonder if these are too many details. Togame is listening to it so carefully. "Uhm. If i-its too sensitive I'll touch over my clothes too. Sometimes I cum like that."

His face shifts. It lingers long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to process what it was. He's back to his usual self so quickly you wonder if you've made the entire thing up.

"Right. I think I know what your problem is,"

You feel a little relieved at that. "Really?"

He pauses before smiling a little with a friendly nod that reminds you of how you were when you were kids, a face that's unexpectedly kind. "Really."

You look at him expectantly.

"I think you're not building up to it enough." Togame comments, smoothly. You blink at him. "You're a girl, you know? Can't jump straight into it, you need to stimulate yourself more first and relax. You're so focused on cumming it backfires. I'll help you."

"How...?"

"I'll help you relax and help you figure out what you like. Don't think about it too hard and focus on feeling good."

"You really don't have to do this for me," You mumble. He smiles at you.

"C'mon. You just said I was your best friend right? I don't mind, so chill out and let me help."

"Okay," You nod, bright eyed. "Okay....thank you."

He makes a face at you before nodding. "Uh-huh. Of course."

Togame hovers above you with lazy smile. You close your eyes on instinct as you feel your lips press together. His lips are softer than you thought they'd be. A hand cups the back of your neck and brings you closer to him. The weight of his body makes you self-conscious about his proximity. You can smell the scent of his skin, feel his presence surround you as he kisses you soft to start.

The shift in the air surrounding you is gradual in a way that reminds you so much of Togame. He's not intense at the beginning, never is really is - but then his hand goes to hold your knees and pull your legs up. His tongue slips against the closed seam of your lips until they part, until he touches yours and you have to reconfigure how you breathe. He's so good at kissing you it makes you wonder if he's kissed you before and you can't remember. But then it feels good and you're reminded—

If it felt this good there's no way you would've forgotten it.

When you pull away for air to breathe, or start to stumble through a question on how this is helping - Togame shuts you up. It takes it happening twice for you realize it's deliberate. Every time he kisses you a little deeper, and the last time he slips his tongue in so far you'd think he's trying to eat you whole.

You're wet. You're unsure if you're allowed to feel guilty about it, or if you're even meant too. Anyone would be turned on getting kissed like this. You're really unsure about all of this but you're fine because it's Togame. There's no way he'd do anything bad to you or for you.

He's over protective in general, though he's rarely frank about it.

(If you were any less clueless, you'd would know that most times Togame is doing his best to protect from himself. Most times, he feels like the biggest danger to you)

Togame pulls away from your lips when you moan a little. You feel embarrassed at the state your left in and how he looks at you. Picking you apart in his mind but not with ill intent. Like he wants to know every thread of your want.

Again, you think he's going to tease you. Light but still teasing.

"Does that feel good?"

It's a serious question. It stuns you. Just a little. His hand on the back of neck feels hot. You notice the way his thumb caresses your nape and try not to stutter.

"Uh..y-yeah." You reply, trying not to look stupid. "I like kissing. Uhm. In general."

He doesn't react to that, nods in a way you find curt in comparison to how passionately he was kissing you just moments ago. "It'll help you relax." And then, a little softly. "If you want to kiss again and we're not already, ask."

An odd request but you acquiesce with another soft noise.

"Do you feel a little warmed up?"

His eyes are so strangely shaded in this light. You open your mouth to the awkward confession. "Oh... nn. I'm... y-yeah. I'm wet already."

"From kissing?"

You give him a sheepish look. Togame responds with another kiss that makes you feel like you're being driven into a corner. This one is hot and heavy, doesn't build up but starts with an almost oppressive air. He nips at you, teeth tugging at your lips and licking in earnest to your mouth. Long and deep until your brain feels melty, your thoughts swimming and clouded. Longing for touch and release. Arousal threads through the fibers of your muscles, makes you feel wound up tight - a serpents coil. You clench your thighs on instinct at the worsening wetness.

Your mouth feels swollen and bitten when you pull away again and Togame looks a little more like you're used to him looking. An underlying sense of smug self-satisfactions on his face as he looks down at you, not outweighed by his genuine ease.

A look on his face like he likes your company. You find him comforting in how easy it is to see.

"Is it okay to touch you in other places?"

"Uhm. Anywhere above the belt is fine, I think."

"Makes sense,"

He leans up and slides both hands underneath your hoodie. You're not really prepared for... this. You don't know if you can call it sex or not but whatever it is, you weren't intending for it to happening.

"You're not wearing a shirt," His hands feel so big on your waist. Big and calloused, split skin scarred over from fighting. "A bra?"

"A sports bra."

"Right."

He slides your hoodie up over your torso until it's bare and takes your sports bra along with it in one go. Your tits fall from them with a soft swish with how quick he does it, the light bounce making your skin grown hot. Togame hovers above you as he eyes them, palms just underneath but not touching.

"Stop looking so hard."

He brushes past that. "They're nice."

"Shut up," You say for the first time. Togame smiles slightly.

"Not a nice way to talk to someone who's helping you," He says sarcastically. You pout but refuse to apologize. He remains unbothered then goes back to being alarmingly serious. "Do you play with them?"

"H-huh? When I masturbate? Not really. I've never thought too."

"Why's that?"

You shrug. "The guys I dated used to touch them but it mostly felt weird, not good. Never thought of trying on my own."

He gives you a looking asking for permission. You nod. This really does not feel normal but the arousal clouding your brain is a lot louder than your sense of shame.

Togame's hands slide up your sides until he's cupping the roundness of your chest. His thumbs hover against hardened nipples, constrained in the touch. It's different than how other guys have done it for you. He's paying attention to that bit most, and he's going about it softly. Pushing the hardened bud with a light flick that sends a jolt of shock through your body.

He's quick to notice your reaction, green eyes flickering up before doing it again. You squirm, stretching your legs and shifting as another tick of arousal goes through your whole body. Your clit is starting to throb so much it hurts. If it were you, you would've started touching yourself a long while ago. As soon as you felt yourself get wet.

Togame is taking his time, though. And you're feeling it so much it's a little shameful for you. He does it again, touching your nipples - both side at the same time. Your body is pushing for more.

You've managed to keep the noise down but you're pushed over your usual limits. A moan spills from your lips as you push up into his touch. "That's good, huh? Just needed it a little softer and more focused."

You try not to be any more embarrassing. Wouldn't anyone feel weird over this?

He's the most important person in your entire life, and he's seeing you like this. Not judging you, just remaining even and consistent. Teasing you but not enough to make you upset. He's being so careful. Is this the kind of boyfriend he is? You think that must make him popular, so then... why does it never work out? He's never dated anyone longer than a year.

But he's being so sweet to you despite not dating. He's always kind but this is different. You can't imagine who would see this part of him and break up.

You try not to think about any of this but the only other thing you can focus on is him rubbing your nipples and how nice it feels. The moan of his name is pitchy, sounds foreign to your own ears with how high and broken it is.

"Kame-chan," Your voice is warbly when you ask. You just want to stop thinking. "Kiss?"

He pauses. You think he's going to deny you at first.

"Fuck. That ain't fair, you know?"

You don't know what he means, but he complies and kisses you open mouthed as he plays with your tits. Rubs and flicks them just the way you like. It feels so good. You've never felt anything like it before. Your tummy flutters, honeyed lust dripping down your inner thighs.

Your body moves on it's own, your hands carding through his hair as arousal starts to pool. Your panties feels soaked and sticky, through the fabric. You shift again trying to relieve the feeling, brain scrambled by Togame's touch.

You're so horny you can't make sense of anything. Your body is a relentless echo of your wants and needs - demanding attention. His attention, specifically. Need curls up in your chest.

Between kisses you confess this to Togame, who you trust now more than ever despite feeling so incredibly vulnerable. How could you not go with it when he's taking such good care of you?

"Wanna cum so bad," You mutter, sloppy between kisses. Togame takes in a deep breath as he pulls away.

"You think you're worked up enough for it?"

You see through him instantly even in your haze. "Don't be mean to me, you jerk."

"Caught me, huh? Okay, okay. How do you normally do this?"

"Do what?"

"Fuck yourself with something,."

The words send heat sparking against your spine. You tuck your face against his jacket where it's laying besides you and huff. It smells like him. "Ngh. Usually finger myself a little first."

"Got a good idea then." He hums. The sound of his voice, low and smooth, makes you feel comforted. "I'll lay next to you and help keep you distracted while you open yourself up, yeah? Nothing below the belt 'n all. And when you're already I'll put in for you and turn it on."

You sniff. "Okay."

He smiles at you, pulling his hands and body away from you before laying besides you instead. He lets you rest your head against his arm and shoulders - sneaking the rest of his arm around and underneath you, squeezing one of your tits. He presses your body into him and gropes around the bed for the box with your toy, grabbing it from inside before shoving it away.

Up close, you can feel his muscles even better than you could. You wonder how someone so relaxed could be this built but try not to let it burden your brain. He smells so nice. Did he always? You feel too horny to remember, but you like it.

You can feel him glancing down at you, amused.

"Comfy?" Togame's voice vibrates through your whole body.

"Uh-huh."

"If you turn your head towards me I can kiss you and touch you. Keep your mind occupied a bit."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"It does right? Go ahead and start."

You think you should tell him not to watch. Keeps his eyes for himself. But the focus of his gaze makes you burn so much hotter you don't bother. He's already seen so much, anyway.

You shimmy out of your sweat pants until they're down at your ankles revealing your panties. Baby blue printed boyshorts, fabric soaked until they look a nearly new navy shade. You feel his laughter less than you hear it, turning your head to glare at him. He smiles a little at you.

"Those are cute too," Togame comments. You can hear his voice so clearly like this you think you'll collapse if you pay too much attention to it. "Too bad you made 'em all messy."

You swallow a sound, too horny to protest. He stops you before you can take your panties off.

"Didn't you say you normally touch over the fabric when you're sensitive? Do that."

"But—"

"Just trust me," He promises. He kisses your hair. Your heart thuds when he does it. It's an innocent gesture. "It'll make it more satisfying, okay?"

Your shaky as you spread yourself a little wider and slip your hand down between your legs. All the desire you're holding starts to unwind as your middle finger slides over the soaked seam of your cotton panties. They're cuter than normal, printed with florals and lace trimmed. Absolutely drenched in your arousal. You rub a small circle into your clit and your whole body breaks out into shivers, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

You could cum like this. Just from this. But you want something more, something better so you force yourself to go slow.

"It's messy," Togame hums, nonchalant. "You get easier than I thought you would. Are you going slow so you don't cum right away?"

"Don't point it out, aah,"

"You should cum if you want too," Togame suggests.

"No," You whine. "Wanna cum with the toy."

"Wanna cum with a cock inside you, ya mean? A silicone one but still. Not enough to just touch yourself, you need something more, is that it?"

He says the words so casually, so lightly. Almost friedly despite how filthy they are. There's no malice in them.

Spoken like high praise or affection. The kind you'd show a kitten,.

"Kame—"

"Didn't know your had such a need pussy. No wonder it's hard to cum all by yourself, huh?"

"Stop being mean," You gasp. "I'll cum,"

He laughs at that. It's genuine and bright.

"Too much for ya, huh? S'okay. Take these off now. Finger yourself. Make sure you get all that mess you made so we can use on your toy. It'll hurt if it's dry going in."

You feel blindsided by just how much Togame is talking. He's been so quiet, so brief and unreadable. He feels like his usual self too much, to your complete detriment. His voice is teasing, yet warm and sweet. He smells good and he's pressing you all against his chest. Your fingers tremble as you slide your panties down to your ankles same as before. You end up shimmying the rest of your clothes off.

You're so aroused it's easy to get the first finger in. Your hole twitches, the entrance pleasurable as slowly ease your middle finger down to knuckle. You til your head towards Togame as you get adjusted to the intrusion easily from how wet you are, pouting your lips. He gives into the kiss right away, warm tongue and soft lips familiar to you now. You ease yourself into the pace of his kiss, whimpering into his mouth as you slowly open yourself on second finger.

"I want it so bad," You mumble. He laughs against your mouth.

"I can tell. Can barely string a sentence together. You want to cum huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"What a naughty pussy. You're trembling from just fingering yourself. Won't you cum right away if I put in you at once? I'll have to go slowly," Togame explains. He speaks the filth so naturally. "Take my time so you're stretched nicely and not scared anymore. I'll turn the vibrator on after it's already inside so you can't run away from it. You can cum to your hearts content, then."

"I'm still scared," You admit. You're just so horny you're unsure of what else to do. He leans down to kiss you again, nose brushing against yours intimately.

"Don't be scared. Just focus on stretching so you're not so tight. I'll praise you if you take it in easily."

Your voice gives once you manage to get a third in. Togame doesn't stop kissing you, barely giving you enough air to breathe. He plays with your chest with his free hand, and holds the toy with the other.

A string of spit connects you. Your thighs are aching, body burning hot as you look at him directly.

"Wanna cum," You slur your words, speaking in short sentences. Togame grins a little.

"Take your fingers out and show them to me."

Your stomach flips but you comply with the request. Your face burns from how soaked they are.

"Good. Rub them on the toy now. Get it as sticky as you can."

Your heart is pounding is loud in your ears as you clumsily coat your new toy with your own mess. You watch it gain a fresh shine, baby blue turning reflective as you push it against and between your fingers until all of it's coated as best you can.

"That's it, good. Spread your legs now. Gonna put it in. Want me to kiss you?"

You nod sheepishly and close your eyes. Togame laughs warmly before kissing you again.

Your whole body throbs in anticipation for it. A muscular forearm and hand slip between your legs as you spread yourself open, your feet flat on the bed for easier access. Togame forces his tongue into your open mouth, kissing you wet and hard as he tweaks your nipples. You feel pleasantly suffocated from the pressure before gasping into his mouth.

The swollen silicone head of your toy stretches your pussy more than you thought it would. You've never had a toy with angles so the sensations are all new. You can feel it so well inside of you, you can barely keep your composure long enough to stop moaning as just the tip slides in. Togame swallows each noise from your mouth. His kisses feel almost ferocious now when they were so composed before, free hand cupping your jaw from one side.

He fucks it in slowly, rocking the toy by its handle slowly until you get used to it - giving you moments between to adjust. You can feel it bottom out inside of you, the head pressing so precise on your swollen gspot you could cum from bucking your hips. Your sensitivity is over the top. Every touch and and tease and bump makes your cunt clench and throb.

The blunt end of the rubber attachment presses against your needy little clit. Togame moves the toy a little, fucking you with it slightly again. Barely. It still nearly makes you cum.

You feel like he's edging you. Anymore than this, you think you'll go crazy.

"Kame-chan." Your voice is beyond wrecked, throat as one of your hands reaches to cling desperately to his short sleeves. You fist it, teary. "Jo, turn it on please. Make me cum. Wanna cum so bad, 'm so close, please, please. C'mon."

"Turning it on, baby. Easy."

The word baby makes your body melt.

A slight click sounds as Togame turns on the vibrator.

Your whole body lurches at the sudden change. Togame pins you with his own, keeps his hands steady and the toy inside of you without skipping a beat. The soft whirr of the first setting completely unravels you. It feels like every nerve in your body is being pulled apart, electricity through a frayed copper wire. The muscles in your body aching with anticipation after so many dissatisfying orgasms clench tight as your body prepares itself for something so vast your mind can't process it at all. Your hands fist at your sides, clutching the sheets as you get close to cumming.

You're thrashing from the sensation. It's so much, too much - you've never felt anything like it before. You feel full and euphoric and your head is spinning. It feels so good it terrifies you, makes you clench up hard in how unbearably unrelenting it is. There's no pace, no where to escape from. The vibrations are strong but not overwhelming to the point you can't feel them.

You're so senstive all over your body and it's touching you in two places.

Your spine starts to curl into an arch, hips stuttering and twisting as you feel it rushing over your consciousness. Fuck, you've wanted this for so long. It's exactly the high you've been chasing after on your own for so many months it's making your brain feel like like mush. Animal instinct forces your hips up, bucking against Togame's hand where he holds the toy. You're fucking yourself on it. You can hear him laugh as he moves to meet you ruts.

You feel like you're losing your fucking mind.

"G-gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't, I can't, I can't. Feels so good, Ican't."

He leans in and gets close to your ear, tongue caressing the lobe before biting it soft.

"Yes you can. You want it so bad don't you? Wanna cum all over this cock so bad you've been aching for it. I know you want it, I can see it. Look how much your moving your hips." His voice is shaking, hands flicking your nipples messy and harsh as he speaks. "Look what a mess you're making. You're leaking everywhere. You want it badly right? Don't think about it and cum. Cum as much as you want. Cum for me,"

The last words are the ones to snap the thread inside of you.

Your brain bluescreens as your body seizes before finally, finally giving you the orgasm you've been chasing. You smash your lips against Togame's as your spine arches off the bed, thrashing in place. Something in you undoes - and you feel a wet rush spray from between your legs at the same time your orgasm hits. Your mind feels completely and utterly blanked. Your body is in total rapture, uncontrollable pleasure fucking your brain until you're stupid and slack jawed. It feels so good, so so good. You didn't know anything could ever feel that good in your life. It's scary.

You feel like you could get addicted. Your high rides out for much longer than ever before. In between sloppy kisses, you say the same words over and over and over. Togame grips you close to him as you do.

"Jo," You mutter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—feels so fffucking good, fuck. I can't, I can't. Off, off. 's too much, I'll pee."

Instead of turning it off, he turns the vibration up by one. Your eyes fly open as you gasp, words rushed. Panicked.

"I can't," You swear, looking at him for mercy. His face is flushed. "I can't, Jo-chan, I'll cum again, I'll—"

"Cum." He says, demands - voice rougher than you've heard it all night. "I know you can. Cum,"

On demand practically, your legs seize up and you cum again a second time in near succession. You feel so fucking incredible you think you're going to die.

"Fuck!"

You squirt again, body nearly giving out as more short spurts soak your sheets and mattress. Your pussy is pulsing in the after math, trembling and clenching so violently. You whine loudly as Togame stops the vibration and pulls the toy out, shivering as it catches on your tight hole before coming out of it with a soft pop.

Your legs are twitching.

Even though Togame has no more reason to kiss you he does. And even though you're well past the point of needing to kiss him back, you do more affectionately than any time prior.

"You made me feel so good it's freaking me out." You admit, shaking uncontrollably.

Togame pauses before breaking out into genuine laughter. He kisses your head, arm wrapping around your shoulders until you're hugged against him.

"You were so sexy like that."

You blink at him, face flushed.

"Sexy?"

"I was really hard seeing you cum," He says, casually looking down. "I didn't know you could be cute and ask for kisses. You're usually more—"

You put a hand over his mouth.

"Whatever you're gonna say shut up,"

He just smiles, cheek against your hair. "I'm glad you got to feel good."

"What about you?" You mumble, feeling your heart pick up just asking. "Are you still hard? I feel like I should pay you back somehow,"

He looks at you seriously. "Do you know what you're implying?"

You fold a little but nod anyway. "Yeah."

"Do you really? The monk thing is a joke, you know. If you offer something like that, I won't be able to stop."

"It's fine," You say confidently before adding, much quieter. "I r-really want to do... it with you."

Togame pauses before kissing you deeply. Your whole body feels molded to him now.

"Damn it." He looks down at you, black hair sticking to his skin. You wanna feel his undercut with your hands in his hair. "You know this ain't normal between friends, right?"

"Uhm, yeah? I figured."

"Don't go around getting help from anyone."

You shake your head. "It's only 'cause it's you."

He scrubs a hand over his face and laughs. "You don't need to stir me up anymore. I'm already hard enough. Can't keep my composure at all."

You tilt your head in confusion. Togame just sighs.

"Don't worry about it." He says, shaking his head. "How soon can I get my thanks?"

Your eyes widen as you clench again. "Uhm. Now, if you want it."

He grins a little lazy, eyes swimming with adoration.

"I do," He hums, laying back as you get up from where you've been laying. "Come over here and let me touch you properly then."

"Is that what you really want?"

You climb ontop of him, bare naked almost as your hoodie falls back down over your torse. Togame slides the fabric up and gives you a meaningful look.

"More than anything,"

[pedge-page]

does tommy ever feel the wrath of joel’s pregnant wife or does she reserve that specifically for joel? I feel like tommy would get on her nerves a little bit 😂

I was waiting for someone to ask this! Tbh I think preggo wife saves her wrath for Joel simply because shes comfortable with him and can relax and let her guard down. With Tommy alone....

Tommy Dealing with Preggo Wife

Warnings: just language and Joel and Wife being insecure in their own (slightly toxic) ways

- - - -

You were super pregnant at this point. A couple weeks away from making Joel a doting husband to a doting father, and he was probably more on edge than you were. Your anxious little poor husband Joel, freaking out that he needed to take a weekend trip away, and the only person he can rely to watch over you--

"I don't need to be fucking baby sat--!"

-- his sweet, helpless, innocent little pregnant wife, is unfortunately, Tommy.

"Ok listen very carefully," Joel starts, now having Tommy's full attention like he's about to ask him to do his first heart transplant. "She doesn't go anywhere unless you decide. She eats what you put in front of her, and you don't take her shit. She's gonna be bitchy and whiny and crying. She needs to rest. Rub her shoulder, put her feet up, whatever. But you gotta tough through and just make sure she understands that you're in charge. And what you say, goes. Got it?"

He knows Joel is relying on him to take care of his most precious belonging...who also is the devil. "Ok...ok. I mean it's like a... like watching a toddler, right?" Tommy asks, unsure about the whole thing.

"Yeah... a pregnant one that weighs more than ya and swears and probably will slap you a lot."

Joel smacks Tommy's shoulder lovingly with an encouraging smile.

Tommy feels even more hesitant. but he knows that he just needs to channel his inner Joel this weekend: stern, unmoving, and commanding, and he'll do just fine navigating you.

Joel hugs you real tight and kisses your forehead, inhaling your hair deeply as if to etch it into his brain. "I love you, baby, I'm gonna miss you so--"

"Later fucker." you pat his bum and wave him off as you waddle away in his large T shirt towards the freezer drawer, pulling out a Ben and Jerry's fudge pint with wet lips and a grin.

Tommy shrugs and helps Joel out to the truck with his bag. he waves goodbye as his brother backs out the driveway, shouting "YOU'RE IN CHARGE!"

I'm in charge, I'm in charge, he chants to himself, taking a deep breath before entering your house again.

"Alright!" he claps his hands together awkwardly but with a tone leadership. "We are going to stay in bed today,"

"Mall," you grump though a big scoop of ice cream.

"W-what?"

"M'goin ta mall. Yur takin mee," you nod towards him casually, gulping another spoon.

"uhh-h." Tommy looks around anxiously. Was this part of the test? He should put his foot down, yeah, Joel said you go no where unless Tommy explicitly said so. "N-no."

you swallow. "'Scuse me?"

"N-no? I mean... no! I said, we are putting you in bed, and what i say, go--"

"Thomas Miller," you say, and an eerie sense of fear swallows Tommy, sending shivers all over his body. Despite the 90 degree forecast, its like someone just tossed his insides into a freezer, and you were locking him in.

"Y-yes...maam," he whispers, feeling small.

"We can either do this... the hard way," you tilt your head with a sinister gaze towards him, as if referencing that bit of "Joel" he's trying to channel inside. "Or, we can do this... my way." The way you smile at the end is somehow even more threatening than the chilled tone you're having with him.

It was like when he and Joel broke his grandma's vase, and rather than yelling at them, she had the exact same terrifyingly threatening voice, and it made Tommy sleep with one eye open for a week.

"What will it be, Thomas."

He remembers to breathe shakily through his nose, licking his parched lower lip.

He doesn't want to be known as the guy who got beat up by his pregnant sister in law.

-

"Do you want a pretzel?" you ask kindly.

"Ah... no--no that's okay--"

"I'm getting you one, honey, just say Thank you."

"Okay. T-thank you."

Tommy bites into the cinnamon sugar one with the extra glaze you had ordered, and he had never felt such sweet heaven.

"Joel used to yell at me for my sweet tooth," he admits as the two of you stuff your faces and waltz slowly down the mall halls.

"Me too!" you bump his shoulder heartily.

Tommy lets out a relaxed sigh. From the moment he agreed to do whatever it was you wanted, the weekend had been fantastic. Turns out, you're not only super fun to blast kareoke to the worst songs in the car, but also all full of warmth, laughter, and even more suprisingly, extremely generous at offering to spoil him rotten like a mother with her favorite child.

"What can I make you for dinner?"

"Wha--no I'm supposed to cook for you--"

"Tommy stop please. I want to make you something. You have to be stuck with me all day walking like a slow penguin. I want to do something for you. You deserve it. "

You hadn't noticed Tommy pausing along your walk, watching you in awe as you waddled about, gently caressing your tummy absentmindedly as you window shopped.

This was the demon that Joel complained about every hour of the day???

And even more concerning was: how did someone like JOEL manage to score a girl like YOU???

You were so peaceful, generous, kind, loving, all smiles and willing to take care of him.

Was he doing everything right or everything wrong?

The two of you return home, with Tommy hauling more gifts that you had bought him. He really wasn't able to protest, with you somehow disappearing from sight conveniently, to his horror that he somehow lost you like a puppy in the park, and then finding you suddenly swiping your card at a register.

He should feel bad, truly, but you were just in such a good mood, he didn't want to seem ungrateful. And he also.... really liked all of it.

"Oh these are so fuckin nice!" He cheers, pulling out the new sneakers you had just bought in it's wrapping paper. "Mine are--"

"Old and ratty, yes I know that's why I bought them. Sick of your nasty shoes trailing my house--"

"S-sorry--"

"Bought you some fuzzy slippers too so you can switch out when you come in."

"Im not really a slippers guy..."

"You are now."

You ended up making a quick spaghetti, slapping him away every time he tried to hover in the kitchen. "I wanna stand! good exercise!" you nod with a smile.

And it seemed like you meant it. Despite babyzilla cooking and ready to burst out, you were light on your feet in the kitchen. Like a ballerina dancing and swaying, you hummed to a tune in your head as you tasted the sauce on the spatula. You were in the zone, in your world. and it was genuinely... beautiful. He understood it now, when people say pregnant women glow. the entire time, Joel always said you did, but he only ever saw how tired the pregnancy made the both of you.

Was... Joel the problem?

After a hearty dinner, Tommy washed up the dishes. You said your goodnights and headed to your master bedroom, tucked in, and lights off just as Tommy gathered his pillows down the hall in the guest bedroom.

He sighs, laying on his belly and inhaling the fresh linen before closing his eyes.

Not more than a few moments pass before he hears some sniffles down the hall. Then again, a cough and whine.

He sits up and heads down to your room, the door cracked and dark. he flips the light switch on to see you sitting upright in your bed, rubbing your eyes.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

"M'good!" you give him two thumbs up. "Night!"

He nods and flips the switch off again, turning away. he doesn't make it two steps before he hears your unmistakable crying.

He turns the lights back on to see you wiping fat tears from your cheeks, sobbing into your shirt--Joel's shirt.

"Hey...what's wrong? Are you okay? ya in pain? What can I--"

You pull your face up, lips trembling and all tear soaken. He sees your clutching one of Joel's jackets in your hands, wrapped tightly like you don't want it to leave you. A completely emotional mess as you huff and puff.

He puts the pieces together. "Ya miss Joel, don't you--"

"I MISS HIMMMMMM!!!!!!!!" you wail, erupting into a long cry into the air with slunked shoulders and larger tears strolling down from the creases of your closed eyes.

He tightens his lips awkwardly, not wanting to let out a chuckles. Turns out big scary pregnant "later fucker" wife really did love that dumbass. Its also probably the first time he sees bags under your eyes, like you were hiding your exhaustion. When Joel is around, you almost never looked tired. Just pouty and groutchy like a spoiled senior cat.

Maybe Joel wasnt the problem, but the solution. He knew how to take care of you, knew what you needed when you needed it, knew when to put his foot down, and even when hed watch you two bicker and bitch, joel knew exactly how to get you in bed wrapped around him like gumby. Every. Single. Night.

He rubs your arm soothingly.

"Why"-hiccup--"did he"--sniffle--"leave me!"

"He aint leave ya, just had some work."

"HE HATES ME!!!!!!!!!"

He shakes his head, knowing you're inconsolable. rather than trying to reason, he brings you to his shoulder so you can cry your heart out on him as he hugs you. "There there," he hums, swaying you two side to side.

like a crying toddler indeed.

"M'sorry," you whimper, rubbing your eyes with your balled fists. "Wakin' you up, me crying like this. I can't--I can't help it some times..." your voice waivers, face warm in embarrassment that you're burdening Tommy so much.

"Don't sweat it. You did a lot today. Can I get you anything to cheer you up?" he suggests, expecting a trip down to the freezer for a nice tub of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cr--

"Can you get the jar of pickles?"

That...is fine too.

He brings up the largest jar of dill pickles he's ever seen in his life, sets them in your lap. He pops open the sturdy lid for your eager fingers to pull a long dill out and slink it into your lips. the satisfying crunch echoes in the room as you munch.

You start crying again. "I Fucking HATE Pickles!" you groan angrily before taking another generous crunch with a confusingly delightful hum. "Like--I hate it, but they're good?"

He chuckles, taking a piece. He pauses, eying you fearfully as if he made a wrong move not asking your permissions to take one of your hated yet coveted pickles. You nod, and the two of you crunch down on the peculiar snack.

"It's probably from the baby..."

"Fuckin' weirdo." you pat the rounded hump of your tummy and swallow the rest of your slice. Though, the way you stroke along the skin so delicately with a little smirk, he knows you're already in love with your "fuckin weirdo" baby more than anyone could love anything in this world.

Tommy never really thought about the word "uncle" until this moment, and the first emotion he has to associate it with, is excitement.

"Mkay. I'm done now." You hold the jar out to him so he can close it. "Thank you, Tommy," you say sweetly with the gentlest, sleepiest smile. "I really appreciate it."

THIS IS THE ANGEL JOEL HAS THE NERVES TO COMPLAIN ABOUT????

He swears, if Joel comes back and calls him up later saying how insufferable you are, he may just have to size up and smack his big brother.

Tommy pats your head, tucks you in again and turns of the lights.

-

The next day you make Tommy take you to breakfast and get him as many pancakes and French toast he can stuff his face with. A spoiled little brother indeed, and as he swallows another lump of the best breakfast eggs he's ever had, he wonders how sweet life would have been with a big sister like you spoiling him every day instead of Joel making him do chores and shit.

Its not until Joel is meeting the two of you at a lunch spot that Tommy remembers exactly what Joel always groans about.

"Hi baby!" He grins, rushing to give you a big hug for the first time in two days.

And despite your crying for him last night, you only retort with "sup fucker" casually and near bored, as if you weren't sniffing his jacket and Wagging your imaginary tail in disguise.

Joel purses his lips sarcastically, knowing you mean well, and Tommy laughs. You two definitely understood each other way better than he thought.

"Im gonna wash my hands, you two get a table," Joel says, and disappears down the back entrance.

Your waitress greets you just as Tommy is helping you slide down into the booth, big baby belly and all.

"Just three waters, please,"

"And a pepsi! Lots of ice. Two pepsis actually. And bread. And maybe like uh milkshake to start off?--"

The waitress glances at Tommy with a raised brow, wondering if you're genuine or not. He shrugs and nods, noting "she's pretty far along if ya can tell."

"My older sister was the same way. I'll get that in. You two...sorry I shouldn't say it but you two make a cute couple--" she says kindly.

Unfortunately, its exactly at the same Joel returns and hears that last bit, directed towards you and Tommy.

She walks away just as you catch Joels bewildered expression, conveniently with Tommy's hand on your bump and another around your lower back (supporting you into the booth of course but JOEL doesn't see it that way with this new context).

You and Tommy open your mouths to dismiss the claim and misunderstanding, but ever defensive Joel just shoves Tommy aside, slides into your booth next to you and slams your hand into his lap, his bear paws enclosed around yours. Tommy quietly slides into the opposite end, met with Joels flaring nostrils and billowing steam coming out of them.

The younger Miller realizes that slapping some sense into Joel and "sizing him up" was a total pipe dream. He'd be lucky to live long enough to an uncle at this point.

You gotta defend your poor brother in law. "The waitress just saw--"

"Cute couple, huh," he seethe with gritted teeth his entire seething focus at Tommy rather than paying any mind to you.

"Joel stop, Tommy was REALLY great to me this weekend--"

"Oh I BET he was," he grunts, turning towards you with a scowl. "S'that why he got new shoes on?" Joel damn well knows Tommy didn't just pony up and buy new shit for himself this weekend, given he refuses to buy himself anything new for years past it's expiration.

Tommy knows he's never allowed to baby sit you alone again at this rate.

"She was crying last night saying how much she missed ya," Tommy blurts.

You kick his shin under the table, not wanting to let Joel know what a pathetic groveling mess--

"Wait really!?" he nuzzles closer to your, as if all the anger in his body dissipated at the notion his poor little wife was calling out for her hubby.

Tommy chuckles and nods. "We shared some pickles in bed, ain't that right?"

You slap your face just as Joel rears his once again flaring red face towards Tommy. "You did WHAT in WHERE????"

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[talaok]

A new lesson

Pairing: step-dad!Joel miller x step-daughter!reader

Summary: Your step-dad generously offers to give you another lesson. (this is part of a series but can be read alone)

Warnings: step-incest, manipulation, straight-out lying, hence dub-con, Perv!Joel, predatory behavior, very very naive and innocent reader |Smut| oral sex ( m receiving), face-fucking, dacryphilia, and daddy-kink. And please for the love of god read the warnings and just scroll if you don’t like what you see.

a/n: @thesummerpetrichor I believe we had an agreement…

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4

He'd been obsessively looking at those photos he'd taken of you yesterday every time he could.

It didn't matter if he was at work, or if his wife was right next to him, he needed to take a look at that pretty pussy of yours or he felt like he was gonna go crazy.

He'd always known that once he got a taste of it, it would never be enough, and yesterday just proved him right.

He was so lost in the picture on his screen that your mom's voice startled him.

"what have you been doing on there for 20 minutes?"

Shit

"nothing" he shrugged, quickly switching apps "Just work stuff"

"you sure?" she raised a brow, smiling "There's not another woman I should be worried about?" she joked

Only your daughter

"never" he forced a grin, leaning closer to her on the couch to kiss her.

"good" she nodded, patting his thigh "I'll go shower more serenely then"

He watched as she stood from the couch, and waited until he heard the water running before he quickly made his way to the only place he'd been wanting to go since he came home: your room.

His dick was already hard, so what better time for another lesson?

"Oh, hi daddy" you smiled at him as he closed the door behind him, noticing how he locked it.

You were sitting on your pink bed, resting your back against the headboard while you read a book. A big t-shirt draped over your body and some soft pajama shorts underneath it.

"hi sweetheart" he smirked

"do you need something?"

"no baby, but it's time for another lesson"

He watched you frown in confusion

"but mom's home... and you said you couldn't help me when mom was home"

"I know what I said" he nodded annoyed at your sudden need to ask questions "but I was feeling generous and I wanted to help you now." he explained "If you don't want my help anymore you can just say s-"

And just as he'd predicted, you interrupted him before he could even finish that sentence.

"No, of course I want your help daddy"

"good" he nodded "then come here"

You obliged immediately, setting your book to the side on the bed and standing up to walk over to him.

"take off your shirt" he said once you were right before him.

You did as told, observing his eyes fall to your naked tits, just for his hands to reach them, feeling them as his thumbs played with your perked nipples.

"you've got pretty tits sweetheart"

"t-thank you" you blushed, your eyes falling to where he was touching you.

"Today is gonna be different from last time" he explained softly 

"ok" you murmured

Oh how he loved how small your voice got every time

"get on your knees"

Once again, you obeyed.

He looked even bigger from down there, and you felt even smaller.

"now undo my belt and lower my pants"

You swallowed nervously, looking up at him

"go on" he urged

So you did. You took care of his belt, then of his zipper, and then as he said, you lowered his jeans, and they fell, pooling at his feet.

What was now in front of you, was the perfectly clear shape of his dick, hidden only by a pair of thin black boxers.

"take them off"

your fingers seeped through the waistband, and slowly, you took them off for him.

You still hadn't gotten used to it. He was just so big,

how did all of that even fit inside of me?

no wonder I'm sore.

"w-what do I do?" you asked, looking up at him with those innocent eyes of yours.

"spit on your hand, and then just like last time, wrap it around my cock"

You hesitated a moment, before bringing your hand to your lips and summoning some spit from your dry mouth.

You were so nervous your hand was almost shaking as it wrapped around him, and it might have had something to do with his expecting eyes looking down on you.

Your thumb didn't even reach the rest of your fingers, that's how fucking thick he was.

"up and down, like last time" he instructed, clearly getting impatient.

"l-like this?" you asked, gently stroking him.

"just like that baby" he breathed, his hips pushing forward a bit "Now use your mouth"

You tried to swallow some of the sand in your mouth, but all you could think of was how fucking huge he was and how he was never ever gonna fit, and how he was gonna be disappointed of you and-

"We don't have all day sweetie" he murmured 

"I-I'm sorry daddy, it's just that... I- I don't know if it's gonna fit"

He stifled a smile as he answered

"we're gonna make it fit sugar, don't you worry your pretty little head about it" he cooed, seeing some of the concern melt from your eyes "Now be good and suck my cock"

You nodded obediently, and just as he'd taught you last time, you widened your mouth and took him in, or better, you took his tip in.

"you can do better than that" he tilted his head, "go deeper"

So you did, you forced him more and more into your mouth until it was halfway in.

Your hands on his thighs balled into fists, and your face started to redden.

"breathe through your nose" he instructed, watching you do it "and hollow your cheeks for me, baby"

You did as told, and a loud breath fled his mouth.

"good girl" he whispered, making that weird feeling in your belly rise all over again.

"now- just like you did with your hand, go up and down"

Your mouth felt already incredibly full, but somehow, as you started bobbing your head, more and more of him started fitting inside of it.

"that's it" he groaned, his right hand moving some hair out of your face and fisting them in a makeshift bun at the back of your head.

You internally smiled at that, and you got so focused on trying to do even better that your eyes fell down to his groin.

"No look at me" he corrected you, using his leverage on your head to pull it back so your eyes were on his again "You look at me when you're sucking my cock"

You blinked in surprise, but before you could say anything he'd told you to "go on" and so of course, you did.

Up and down 

up and down

always fitting a tad more

"fuck" he murmured, trying to remind himself that he couldn't show you just how good you were making him feel, but fuck but that was a whole lot

Either he was an amazing teacher, or you were a natural. 

"A-am I doing good?" you asked, leaning away, while you tried to catch your breath.

"yeah baby" he breathed, seeing that need for reassurance in your iris

"really?" your eyes lighted up, as a huge smile spread on your lips

"yeah" he cut it short "but sweetie... less talking and more sucking"

"o-oh, right" You let out a soft laugh, slowly taking him back in, but before you could get back to your old rhythm, his hand at the back of your head, had pushed his cock all the way down your throat, making you gag and cough like a maniac.

Your eyes watered, and tears started flowing from your eyes as you looked up at him, confused and a little scared

But all you could see in his eyes was fun.

You looked so pretty choking on his cock...

"it's ok" he murmured, gripping your hair to guide your head up and down like he wanted, "just-" he forced you to gag on him again.

You looked up at him pleadingly as your hands tried to reach where he was holding your hair to try and get him to let go of you without succeding.

"fuck, that's good" he groaned, finally letting you go

You broke into a coughing fit, trying to get your lungs to work normally again, but he didn't even budge, actually, he was sadistically enjoying it.

"wh-why did you do that daddy?" you whimpered, sniffling

"oh baby" he murmured, "If you want Chad to make love to you you're gonna have to learn how to do that" he explained, stroking your wet cheek " Plus, I did it to prepare you for what we're gonna do next"

Your eyes widened slightly

"w-what are we gonna do?"

A grin pulled at his lips

"Now, darlin'," he spoke, "I'm gonna fuck that pretty throat of yours"

"Wha- I"

"shh" he shushed you, placing his thumb on your lips "it's ok" he calmed you down "Relax baby, I'm here, I'm only trying to help you"

"I know but-"

"But what?" he asked, frowning as he looked down at you.

"nothing" you immediately took it back.

"that's right" he nodded "Now open your mouth and stick your tongue out f'me"

And the moment you did... the moment you did, he realized he wasn't gonna last long

"You gotta stay like that ok, you don't wanna hurt daddy, do you?"

"uh-uh" you shook your head, your mouth still open 

"such a good girl" he smiled, before gently, (a gentleness that was gonna be forgotten in seconds) he placed a hand on the back of your head, and trusted his hips forward, making you gag softly.

"shit" he breathed, and then, as if he got possessed, he started going faster, and then faster, and then faster again until rivers were flowing from your eyes and the room filled with the filthy noise of your abused thoat.

"f-fuck" he groaned, forcing your head all the way down so that your nose was almost touching his crotch "Look at you... so fucking pretty like this"

You only had the time to remind yourself to breathe through your nose, and then he was already starting to push in and out of your mouth just like he'd done last time but down there.

You enjoyed seeing him breathe heavily and groan in pleasure because of you, so much so that your panties were drenched... but god it was hard to do as he asked.

"choking on my cock like a good little girl" he hissed, his hold on your head only tightening and his thrusts only fastening "Being so good f'me" he groaned "Always so good"

Your jaw was starting to hurt too much, and you just needed a little break, but the moment you tried to speak he stopped you.

"not now" he spoke, his voice hoarse and filled with pleasure "I'm about to cum baby" he explained, "you know what that means?"

You shook your head, eyes wider than ever.

"it means I'm gonna cum in your mouth" he breathed "and you're gonna swallow every single drop of what I give you," 

His chest was heaving, and you didn't think you'd ever seen him that blissed out

"but not until I say so, ok?"

"mh-mh" you hummed around his cock

"attagirl" he bit down his lower lips, trying to keep his grunts and groans down as much as he could "such a good, fucking, girl- fuck"

And looking down at you, ruined completely for him, he couldn't help but let go, filling your mouth up, until you were choking on the liquid and his cock combined.

He pulled out, his dick softening and his breathing calming down.

"show me" he ordered,

You widened your mouth even more and showed off its contents to him 

His hand grubbed your chin, tilting your head up more to him, as his fingers kept your mouth open.

His eyes were fully dark with lust as he grinned, stroking your bottom lip.

"Now swallow"

Your eyes never left his as you ingested his salty spent, and the moment you did, his dick threatened to harden again.

Fuck, he should have taken a picture

"good girl, now c'mere" he gestured, inviting you to stand up, which you gladly agreed to

Your knees were killing you.

He tucked himself back into his boxers and put on his pants again, while you stumbled to your feet.

"H-how did I do?" you asked, as he busied his thumb by caressing your pretty lips.

They were all puffy, just like his eyes, and the pleasure he got knowing that he was the reason for it, was unimaginable.

"you did good" he said, making you smile "But not that good" he cooed, lying through his teeth. he honestly didn't think he'd ever come that hard from just a blowjob, " If you want Chad to want to do this, you're gonna have to get better at it"

"o-oh"

"yeah" he winced, faux empathy tracing his tone "you really need some practice" he explained "so I think it's best if we do this once a day at least"

Your eyes widened in surprise

"Once a day?"

"at least" 

"y-you'd do that for me?"

"Of course baby" he smiled, before leaving a quick kiss on your lips "what kind of step dad would i be if i didn't help you?"

And at that, you couldn't help but hug him, intertwining your hands behind his neck.

"How are you feeling?" he murmured to your ear, kissing you neck, and forcing a whimper out of your mouth.

"M-my throat's a little sore"

He smirked, softly chuckling "That's normal sweetie, but what I meant was..." he explained, his right hand traveling lower on your body until he was cupping your clothed pussy "how are you feeling here?"

You moaned softly "I-I feel tingly, like last time"

"mhh, that's good" he hummed, inhaling your scent "that's real good sugar, but we don't have time for me to take care of you, so here's what we're gonna do" he said, leaning away, until you were eye to eye "I want you to take one of your pillows and hump it for me"

"h-hump it?"

"yeah sweetheart, hump it until come"

"I-I-"

"it's ok" he stroked your cheek "It's just me"

"Y-you right" You nodded

"that's my girl" he kissed you "and while you hump it real good, I want you to film yourself, and then send it to me ok?"

"why?" you frowned, a little bit confused

Again with the questions

"Because I need to know if you did it right"

Your mouth parted at that, as the realization hit you

He was just too nice

"of course" you smiled "thank you so much daddy"

[milla-frenchy]

Joel, Jackson

6k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Summary: after years of wandering, you joined the Jackson community. Once back on your feet, you started patrolling regularly with Joel. Over the months, you ended up getting closer to that bruised man. Warnings: 18+ mdni. strangers to friends to lovers, oral (f/m), alt pov, piv, cum eating, cnc (safe word, knife play, rough sex, dirty talk, aftercare). No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to the Jett’s Flora & Fauna challenge 🌷🪻🌻 Thank you for this beautiful event @morallyinept ❤️ Also, thank you to @cavillscurls, who kindly agreed to let me work on this anon she received, with Jackson!Joel and a cnc idea. Thank you very much, Mya 🙏❤️ Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏❤️ @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta reading, and for your daily support ily 💕💕💕🫶

Masterlist

************

You and Joel met in Jackson, when you joined the community, exhausted by months, years of wandering from camps to camps, where you lost everything over time. Your friends, your family, your boyfriend. 

Tommy and Maria took you in and you rebuilt yourself, never thinking that you would find love again. That you would find it with that gruff, not very verbose man, about whom some people warned you. They told you about his violence, his ruthlessness. About things “other people” told them, and repeated without knowing him. That he only cared about Ellie and Tommy, that his family was the only thing that mattered to him. They were the only people worth fighting for. Even Maria had been  resentful towards him for a long time, holding him responsible for what Tommy had done to survive.

Once you were back on your feet physically, and more or less mentally, you started taking part in the patrols. You needed to get out into wide open spaces. More and more, you were assigned to do them with Joel. He impressed you countless times in encounters against infected. Against a few people, even. Raiders, hunters. You always felt safe patrolling with him. 

For several months, he didn’t speak much. Just the bare minimum. He wasn't exactly unpleasant, just a little gruff. As if everything that did not relate to basic principles seemed superficial to him. You enjoyed his company, not feeling like you had to talk. Your own reconstruction required a lot of energy, and you were grateful that he didn't draw on your resources. So you patrolled, each on your horse, sharing meals and surveillance. Even if you suspected him of not really sleeping during your watch. He probably didn’t fully trust your abilities, and you couldn’t blame him.

Often, during the breaks to let horses rest, you picked flowers, keeping a bouquet against your horse's rein. Sometimes he asked you what flower it was. Ultimately, it was the flowers that got you two talking about something not related to patrols, and helped you learn how to tame each other.

One day a patrol almost went wrong. You have been overwhelmed by the infected in a building. Until one of them jumped on Joel, throwing him on the ground. He was trying to use his rifle to keep the clicker away from him and his knife was out of reach. You rushed to pick it up before plunging it into the infected’s temple. Joel nodded, thanking you, then you cleared the entire building, making your way through each closed door, each room, each floor. Hiding in every nook and cranny to progress. You just killed two more and were squeezed between a wall and a piece of furniture, careful not to make any noise they could hear. Your body was against his, he made the “shh” sign with his finger, as he did so often. But that time, you saw him differently. It wasn’t Joel anymore, it was Joel, for a minute. You were so close, your eyes fixed on his beard and neck. You looked at his hairs, mixed with browns and grays. The veins in his neck throbbing and the muscles tensing under his shirt. Arousal overtook you. A strong, sudden desire for him, a physical wave, while it had been at least months, since you had wanted someone. Only your fingers had slipped between your thighs. 

And you were there, in the middle of patrol, you both had almost died an hour before, and your only thoughts were absolutely not suitable for the situation. Your brain was a mess and your core even worse. When you finally looked up, you saw Joel's gaze lowered to you and his eyebrows furrowed. Asking you with hand signals why you weren't responding to his gestures. You pulled yourself together, and finished securing the building.

You went to the outpost. Joel was tense, restrained, and you asked him what was going on.

"What’s going on? What the hell happened to you in that building? Totally unfocused and inattentive. I’ve never seen you act so stupid.”

His anger disconcerted you, even though you knew he was right, that your behavior had been totally irresponsible.

“I’m sorry”, you answered sadly.

“You’re sorry? Well I’m glad to know that.”

“Damn Joel, what more do you want me to say? Ok, I screwed up. But a few minutes before I saved your ass. So excuse me, Mr. Perfect.”

“Fuck…”

He leaned back in the chair he was sitting on, rubbing his beard with his thumb, and sighed.

“I shouldn't have reacted like that, I’m sorry. I've never seen you distracted before, and I was probably still under the effect of that clicker that almost got me. Thank you. Just…please stay focused, okay? I can’t leave Ellie without me.”

“Yeah, of course.”

You went to bed. As soon as he mentioned Ellie you had put it into perspective. Of course he didn't want to leave her alone. You fell asleep, driving away your other thoughts. The feeling of his body against yours.

Other patrols followed, and seasons passed. You discovered other flowers that you had not seen in the states you had crossed before. 

You only patrolled with Joel now. Tommy and Maria preferred to send pairs on patrol who knew each other well, their reflexes and instincts worked better. You had caught him snoring softly a few nights, which made you think that, finally, his confidence in you had greatly grown. You also slept when it was his shift. You absolutely trusted him. You knew he would slaughter anyone who came near. He was reliable, strong. He was Joel. You talked more and more, too, confiding in personal things. You learnt a lot from his life, as he had from yours.

He taught you everything he knew about survival and hunting. How to patrol effectively and secure a location. Many times, you told yourself that Jackson was lucky to have him in its community, despite what some people were still saying about him. But the negativity towards him had largely diminished. Maybe people realized you were close and didn’t want to tell you those things. Or maybe they had finally learned to think for themselves, and stop listening to gossip.

As for you...you never forgot the feeling you felt against him. And at night in your bed, your hand would often slide between your thighs, thinking about Joel. Imagining how you would feel if he was between your legs, his fingers in you instead of yours. His cock inside you.

He didn’t seem to have an affair or a friend with benefits. Sometimes you secretly watched him on patrol, when he was washing in a river, or when he was undressing thinking you were asleep. He had always behaved like a gentleman, without ever looking at you inappropriately. So at night, you dreamt. Making your imagination work, telling yourself that even if he wasn't interested in you, he was in your fantasies.

Joel enjoyed patrolling with you. You were attentive, calm and thoughtful. He hadn't forgotten the time he got angry with you. What you didn't know was that he knew why you had been distracted. He had felt your eyes on him. Felt the change in your stare. So yes, it pissed him off that you lost focus, but mainly because he didn't know how to react. Some women in Jackson showed their interest and made direct advances towards him, several times. He hadn't had anyone serious since Tess, and forgot about the emptiness in his love life by taking care of Ellie. The losses he had suffered hurt him too much. Sarah, Tess. Shortly after his arrival in Jackson, he had some fun here and there, but then stopped any rapprochement. This had undoubtedly contributed to his bad reputation, some women had taken it badly. It didn't matter to him. Getting emotionally invested with someone he could lose, like the others, was out of the question. 

And then you arrived. You were wounded when you came to Jackson, physically and mentally. Then you rebuilt yourself, slowly, patiently. He liked your strength. The patrols were going well, you were a bit like him, not talking a lot, serious. He liked it. 

And then there was that day, the patrol that had gone wrong. You saved him. Without you, Ellie would be alone now. 

And then your body against his. He felt the way you froze. Felt your breathing stop, then start racing. Felt your nipples harden against his chest. When he got angry with you he blamed himself for his disproportionate reaction. You were on patrol, but he had gone too far, unable to react otherwise. He knew only too well why. He got attached to you, over the weeks, months, patrols. He was enjoying your company more and more, and not just as a patrol partner. He considered you a friend, and he’d had few friends in his life. Actually, since the world had been in ruins, he didn't think he had any. Didn't trust anyone enough for that. Tess was…family.

He liked seeing you smile, laughing out loud sometimes. He loved seeing your eyes light up and sparkle. He liked your passion for flowers, what you taught him about them. He liked seeing your smile when you found something notable while on patrol. He loved knowing that you wanted to do your part in the community. Because that meant bringing things to Ellie. He loved that you got along well with her, that you laughed every time Ellie gave him a hard time. He used to answer gruffly on purpose, because Ellie would always bite back, and you were laughing, laughing, laughing. And he loved hearing your laugh. And he realized that he liked maybe too many things about you.

Many nights, his fist clenched around his shaft thinking of you. Desperately, he had tried to think of something else, tried to not see you that way. He felt your gaze on him when he took off his jacket, when he washed himself in a river. You did it discreetly, but he was so used to being on guard and scanning his surroundings all those decades post-outbreak, that of course he noticed.

He trusted you, like he hadn’t trusted anyone since Tess. He knew he was letting his guard down, that he crossed a line that he had set for himself: not getting emotionally invested with someone he could lose.

One night during his shift he heard you moaning in your sleep, then crying. He placed his hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake, saying “shh, shh, sweetheart. It's ok. Wake up, you’re ok.” You opened your eyes and didn't understand where you were for a few minutes, before hugging him, your head nestled in his neck. For two seconds, his arms remained suspended, not knowing what to do, denying contact. And then he broke down and hugged you too, until your gasps stopped and you stammered an apology. “It’s ok, sweetheart”, he replied. Then he got up and resumed his post near the window, scratching his beard. You went back to bed, your back turned to the wall, and fell asleep again. He knew you mourned the people you had lost. Like so many people, like him.

You woke up the next morning, well after the start of your supposed shift. He let you sleep, and you told him he should have woken you up.

“No, it’s ok. You needed to sleep.”

“You need to sleep too. You won’t be much use if you fall asleep on your horse.”

He laughed, and your heart soared.

"OK, let's go. We have two days of patrol left, and no outpost until Jackson. We’ll have to sleep in our sleeping bags tonight.”

“The first quarter will be mine. I don’t want to get bitten because Mr. Miller had fallen asleep with the rifle in his arms.”

He laughed again. Your heart was beating so loudly you were afraid he would hear it.

You roamed around all day, inspecting a few buildings. The day was calm, just two infected. Finally, Joel asked you to choose the resting point, and you followed all the conditions which, for him, made a place safe and that he taught you about; visibility of any possible intrusion and a possibility of escape, first of all.

“This place looks good,” you said.

“Yeah, fine. Let’s go check out the surroundings.”

You tied up the horses, and looked around. No buildings nearby, enough to shelter you from the wind, excellent visibility.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he confirmed. You ate the dried meat you had left. You had prepared the quantities accordingly before departure. With a safety margin in case of unforeseen circumstances. He was always considerate, and taught you to be too.

You took the first shift to let him rest. Making rounds, attentive to noises. At the supposed end of your shift, he was sleeping so well that you let him rest. When he woke up, grumpy, he grumbled “damn, you should have woken me up. It’s risky to stay up longer, you could have fallen asleep.”

“Mmmm….risky like when you let me sleep yesterday?”

He frowned, before his face lit up. “You’re a little brat.”

“Yeah, I know”, you replied, smiling.

You took the road back to Jackson. It was spring and nature was waking up. Flowers were growing again, you loved them so much. You took a few breaks, to let the horses rest after such a long patrol. At the last one, you saw Jackson from the top of the hill where you were.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah. We’re so lucky to have this place.”

When you walked through the doors, he offered to look after your horse as well as his but you refused. You wanted to spend a little more time with him before his daily life took him away from you. He devoted himself to Ellie, even if she grew up and spent more and more time with her friends. You finally went your separate ways, after he gave you one last nod. You sighed as you got home, already missing him. Although there would be a patrol soon. In your shower, your tears flowed. You felt alone.

After your meal, you made yourself some tea. It was steaming on your knees, as you were sitting on the couch, your legs folded. Someone knocked on the door and you got up to open it. 

“Joel? Everything’s fine? Is Ellie ok?”

“She’s ok. She’s having a sleepover at her friend's house. Growing up way too fast.”

You smiled and nodded.

"Can I help you? Do you need anything?" you asked him, stepping aside to let him in. He stood in the hall, his mid-season jacket on his shoulders. He took out a bouquet of wildflowers from behind his back. You hadn't seen him pick them up, and your heart was coming back to life again, as a smile lit up your face. 

“Here. I know you love them. I thought you would like to have some flowers in your home, their smell in your house.” You took them and thanked him, and you put them in a vase. He was holding his hands in front of him, rubbing them gently. He seemed embarrassed and you frowned.

“Are you ok?”, you asked.

“I…just wanted to thank you. For saving my life that day. I didn’t do it properly.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome. But you already thanked me, really. And you saved mine a thousand times, so…” You smiled at him, but it faded when you saw the way he was looking at you. As if he was about to tell you something difficult. 

Time stopped. The only movement in the room was the vapor of your tea dancing above the cup.

“I know you’re looking at me. And I know why you didn’t react in that building.”

You froze. You expected that he wouldn’t want to go on patrol with you again, that the flowers were a way to say goodbye. That you were about to lose him, having crossed a line that had never been mentioned but that you had visualized deep down for a long time. You felt like you were on the edge of an abyss and about to fall. So you tried to get out of it, to do what you could not to lose him.

“I don’t know wh-”

“Please. Don’t do that. Don’t tell me I misinterpreted, that I’m wrong.”

You lowered your head and closed your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. Tears pricked your eyes.

“No. Don’t be. Or I would have to be sorry too, and I’m tired of being sorry.”

You opened your eyes but kept staring at the floor for a few seconds. Then you looked up at him and read his stare. A multitude of emotions jostled there. The waiting, the despair. Desire? He was lost, too. A thousand thoughts were racing through your head. Did you hear that correctly? Was he suddenly going to walk to the front door and leave? Your gaze was lost in a blur and you didn't realize it. When you came to your senses, his eyes were still fixed on you.

And suddenly you both took a step forward. At the same time, as if everything was choreographed. But it wasn't. As if your bodies were running the dance, not your minds. Only your hearts. His hands found your cheeks, and yours his waist, as your lips met. Your heart was beating wildly but you couldn't hear it. His warmth surrounded yours, and his lips, his tongue were even softer than you had imagined. His mouth left yours, as he brushed your cheek with his beard and his hands left your cheeks and slid down your back, holding you against him. Your nose rubbed against his neck, and you loved his smell. You hugged him close, your arms still around his waist, tighter. 

And then you pulled away, looked at him, grabbed one of his hands and led him to your bedroom. Later, when you thought about that moment, you didn't even remember your walk down the hallway. Just finding yourself in front of him, next to your bed. Joel removing your t-shirt, pulling it over your head. His hands on your breasts, his palms surrounding them with his warmth as you unbuttoned his plaid shirt. Your hands on his chest, following the line of his torso, along his happy trail, to his jeans that you unzipped. Kneeling in front of him, just wearing your sleep shorts. 

You widened your eyes when you saw his cock. It was��big. And you…you hadn’t fucked in a long time. Your tongue tasted his precum. You were afraid of being clumsy after all this time. Your lips rounded around his tip, and you sucked gently, taking your time. The feeling, his taste were driving you crazy. Your head started to move up and down, taking more and more of him in your mouth, and you heard him moan softly. Until his hand gently rested on your head, and he said “sweetheart…I ain’t gonna last. It’s been too damn long since the last time.”

He took your arm to help you get up and you kissed.

You went to lie down on the bed, and he knelt on the floor. He gently pulled you towards him and  took off your shorts. 

He nearly came, just by seeing your folds through the fabric. 

His shoulders slipped between your knees. He was so broad that you had to lean your folded legs against the bed. He caressed your thighs, his skin on yours giving you shivers. He placed his hand flat on your pussy hidden under your panties, then slid his middle finger along your folds, making you whine. He smiled and leaned down, licking through your panties, from the bottom of your folds to your clit.

“God, Joel”, you whimpered.

He grabbed the sides of your panties, slid them down your thighs and removed them. You looked at him, he was so handsome. So caring. So…yours, right now. Then he leaned down again, brushing your clit with his nose, and you shivered.

“You’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah…yes. It’s just…It’s been a long time for me too.”

“I know, baby”, he whispered. The tip of his tongue delicately brushed your folds, from bottom to top. You moaned, clenching the sheets in your fists. His hands were placed on your inner thighs. He ran his tongue again, deeper, and you rested your hands on his head.

“You taste so good”, he murmured.

He spread your folds with his thumbs, and lapped, drinking your wetness. Sucking, licking your pussy like a thirsty man. His nose sometimes brushed against your clit, and you were already seeing stars. Your fists clenched his brown curls. Then he moved back up to your clit, wrapping his lips around it, the tip of his tongue swirling over it. When he brushed the entrance to your pussy with a finger, you thought you’d faint. He pushed it in gently, eased by your wetness soaking the sheets. Your hips rolled into him and your moans filled the room. He added a second finger, and you whispered “oh god...”

He focused on your clit, pumping your pussy gently with his two fingers, just where you needed it. You felt the heat rising in your lower abdomen. “Joel…I’m gonna come”, you whined. He didn't stop, didn't slow down. He kept the same rhythm, until you exploded in his mouth and on his fingers. Clenching them within your walls. You came so hard that you were trembling. He left his tongue resting on your clit until you stopped shaking. Then he sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and crawled on top of you, helping you move up on the bed. He lay on you, careful not to crush you and said, “we don’t have to do more if you don’t want to”, but you wished to feel him as much as possible. “Wanna feel you”, you said. “Just…go slow, please. You’re…big.”

He smiled in the cutest way possible. Could this man be even more perfect than right at that moment? His body between your thighs, he took his cock in his hand, slid it between your folds to cover it with your wetness. Every time he brushed against your clit, you had goosebumps. Then he nestled it in your entrance, and you wondered how he would fit, but you didn't say anything. He placed his other hand on your cheek and looked at you, to check if you were okay. You nodded, and he pushed. “Oh, fuck”, you thought.

He pulled back, and thrust in again, just as gently. Your walls were accommodating his cock and you felt him slow down.

“Don’t stop Joel, please. I’m ok.”

“Fuck. Ok.”

He kept sinking, slowly. Then you felt his balls against your pussy.

“Yeah, oh god. Fuck. You’re fucking huge!”

He smiled again, and started to fuck you, thrusting back and forth. Slowly but deeply. Buried himself fully with each thrust, brushing against your g-spot. 

“You feel so good around me”, he whispered. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close, your face hidden in his neck, moaning continuously.

“It’s so good…god, that’s perfect”, he said in your ear. Your pelvis accompanied his. His body brushing against the perfect spot of yours. He felt your walls clenching around him, just before you came, your pussy squeezing his shaft. He stopped buried in your core, his hand still resting on your cheek. His other hand under your head and his forehead against yours. Until you stopped moving, your thighs falling back against the mattress. Catching your breath.

“Where do you want me?” he asked.

“Wanna taste you, please.”

He nodded, and stood next to the bed, his fist pumping his shaft in short strokes as you got on your knees, mouth open. He groaned, and within seconds his hot cum started hitting the back of your throat while he was whimpering.

He helped you up, hugged you and kissed you, the sweat on his skin mixing with yours. 

You both showered, your hands brushing against each other's skin, mouths kissing cheeks, necks, shoulders, hands.

“Can you stay and sleep here tonight?” you asked him once you were dried.

“I hoped you’d ask me,” he replied, smiling.

You fell asleep, snuggled up against him, his arms around you. It was the first time you slept together, and it had been perfect.

The next morning he told you his fears of losing you, as he had lost the other people he had cared about. You said he couldn't live like this. That he still had many years ahead of him, and so did you, and that refusing to be together by fear was a sacrifice not worth it. That life was worth living. He finally nodded. Almost reluctantly, as if a part of him was still struggling against this idea.

After several weeks you told Ellie about your relationship.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into with that old grump?” she laughed. Joel rolled his eyes. You smiled, and replied, “yes, I do.”

You had to struggle to make him accept the idea that you would still go on patrol.

One day, when he watched the schedule, he saw your name next to another man for an incoming patrol. He stormed into Tommy and Maria's house, saying “absolutely not!”, hands on his hips and a dark, disapproving glare at his brother. You were at their house, having coffee, and you and Tommy were laughing two seconds after his loud entrance. “What’s so funny?”, he asked gruffly.

“Just wanted to prank you, big brother. You really thought I would put her on patrol with someone else? I don’t want you to beat the shit outta me.” Tommy looked at you and said, "damn that was too easy.” “Told ya”, you replied.

Joel rolled his eyes and poured himself a coffee, before sitting down across from you in the kitchen.

“You knew?” he asked.

“Yeah, and I definitely didn’t want to miss that.”

“Jesus”, he growled.

You got to know each other even more. You talked about your lives before and your losses. He told you about his pre-outbreak life, Sarah. The years that followed, what he did with Tommy and Tess to survive. The people they had robbed, killed. Boston, the smuggling. His deals with FEDRA. His journey with Ellie. The hospital. 

You got to know each other sexually too. He was both tender and rough. His praise and dirty talk were perfect, he always knew what to say, and when to say it.

You fucked a lot, and pretty much everywhere. Your place, where you didn’t live anymore but you would use when Ellie was at home. His place. Against the wall of the Tipsy bison’s bathroom or on the sink. 

The first time you knelt in front of him in an outpost during a patrol, while he was surveilling through the window, he told you "no, no way. Absolutely not”, shaking his head.

“Lemme suck your cock”, you replied. “Keep watching, it’s hot”, you added, unzipping his jeans. After he shot his load on your tongue, with his hand resting on the window and the other clenching your hair, he said "jesus, you're gonna kill me." And he ate you against that window 30 seconds later, after you swore to him that yes, you would watch the outside even with his tongue buried between your folds.

You established a safe word. “Patrol”. You smirked when he proposed that one. He never missed an opportunity to remind you he didn't like that you were still patrolling. 

You played and you discovered each other. More kinks and more desires. Testing limits that opened new horizons of pleasure. You asked him a thousand questions about his past as a raider, and his contained violence during your patrols were making you terribly horny. So one day you told him about something you wanted to try. You wanted to see his dark side. What he was capable of. You wanted to play with your fear, doing it with someone you fully trusted. Someone who could lead you where you wanted to go, but would stop the second you asked. You didn't know where your limits were, but having a safe word was making everything easier.

So you told him precisely what you wanted. A pseudo kidnapping, where he would blindfold you and do knife play. Where he would be rough. Really rough. He listened, half amused, half surprised.

“You really want that? Wanna see this side of me?”

“Yes, Joel. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I really want it.”

“And you’ll use the safe word the second you want me to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Promise me”, he insisted. “That you will not keep going with something that makes you uncomfortable, thinking that it will annoy me if you tell me to stop.”

"I promise. I know you’ll stop immediately, I trust you 100%.”

He looked at you for a long time before nodding.

"One last thing Joel." He smiled, and asked, “do you have any limits, woman?” You giggled and kissed him, saying “I’m not sure, actually.” Then you looked at him seriously and said, “I don’t want to know when it’s gonna happen. And if I say no, we agree that it's a part of the game. The only thing that should make you stop is the safe word. Or if you are uncomfortable. Do you agree with that?”

“It’s a deal, baby.”

You talked about it several weeks ago, and had done several patrols since then. You thought he would do it during one of them. You knew he hadn't forgotten. He didn't forget anything. 

Joel had been preparing everything for weeks. He checked the place carefully during other patrols, every corner, anticipating every moment so that everything happened safely. He thought about how he would do it, how he would act, what you would love. And he couldn't wait.

You were packing your things for another two-day patrol. A moderately long one, which you knew well, but during which infected were regularly encountered, that time of the year. 

You killed a few on the first day. Nothing particularly difficult, and you reached the outpost. You had your meal. You were getting ready to go to bed, and Joel, as usual, inspected the building again, then left to check the surroundings. You watched him leave through the window, with his brown leather jacket and a backpack, gun in hand. You went to bed, waiting for him to come back but sleep overtook you. You were dozing, without having fallen into a heavy sleep. 

Darkness invaded the room and the sound of the floor creaking suddenly brought you out of this state, just before you were seized. You’ve been grabbed, felt a body against yours on the bed, and a hand covered your mouth. A fabric covered your face and your heart pounded. Part of you thought about the game you discussed with Joel, and another part thought that maybe someone had caught him, maybe killed him. Panic filled you and you struggled, but soon you heard “it’s really stupid to be alone in this abandoned place.” Joel's voice. Your heart rate calmed down and your body relaxed instantly, as the arousal hit you. You relaxed into the arms that were holding you. Damn, he gave you the scare of your life. He manhandled you, flipping you onto your back and straddled you, his thighs surrounding your chest.

“Ain’t that a pretty thing?” he said calmly, before grabbing your breasts with both hands, over your t-shirt. You heard a blade brush against his jeans, and he placed the tip of his knife against your neck. Your chest rose and fell with the excitement you were feeling. He grabbed your t-shirt in his fist and slid the blade through the fabric, pulling sharply. Revealing your breasts through the torn garment. He pushed it aside, the cloth just held by your arms and slid the blade along your chest.

“Your nipples are hard, sweetheart. Does bein’ scared fucking turns you on?”

“Please, let me go”, you begged.

He sneered. “Oh no. Got a pretty damn thing, with, I’m sure, a pretty damn cunt that I’m gonna stuff really soon. Ain’t gonna let you go.”

“Please”, you begged again.

“Maybe that’s what you wanted, being alone in this place. To get caught by a raider? Mmm, sweet thing?”

He never called you ‘sweet thing’. ‘Baby’, ‘darling’, or ‘sweetheart’. You knew he did it to accentuate the game, to turn you on. And god, he was good at it.

“Let’s use this mouth for something better than whining.”

You heard the zipper of his jeans, the rustling of clothes. You heard him jerk off. Then he lifted the fabric covering your face slightly, just to free your mouth. He pressed his tip against your lips, and ordered, “suck my cock.”

You shook your head to keep him away from you and he grabbed your throat. “You know, I like it when they fight. Turns me on even more.” He squeezed your chin between his fingers, forcing you to open your mouth. You licked his tip shyly. “Don’t be a fucking tease. Suck it”, he growled. You opened your mouth wider, letting him slide in, and you blew him. Letting him impose his rhythm. Fucking your mouth until you gasped for air on his shaft. “That’s better, sweetheart. You could almost make me cum down this throat. But I wanna fuck this pussy and make you feel my cock in your stomach.”

He moved back, remaining straddling you, but this time he sat on your thighs, before tearing your panties in two with his blade and you blenched. He released his grip and you tried to pull away but he quickly lay down between your thighs, pinning your body with his.

“You really think you can escape? You won’t feel better if I fuck you after making you bleed a little, believe me. Stop this bullshit.”

“Don’t do this, please. Please, sir…”

“Sir? Fuck I like it”, he said, forcing his knee on your thigh to spread it. Your pussy was dripping, you felt your arousal flowing. He was fully clothed, pressed against your body. He grabbed his cock in his hand, sliding it against your folds.

“Shit, you’re soaked. You really want that cock,” he said, his mouth against your ear, his beard brushing against your skin and his blade against your neck. “Yeah it really turns you on. I’m gonna give you what ya want.” His voice was cold as ice.

He slipped the tip at your entrance and you begged again, “no! Please, stop it!”

“Don’t think so, sweetheart”, he said in a low voice, and sank in your core, putting his hand over your mouth just as he bottomed out. Without covering it completely, in case you wanted to use the safe word. He pulled back, and slammed into you, taking your breath away. “Fuck…suckin’ me right in.” Then he pounded your pussy with his cock, so hard that you could barely breathe.

“Yeah, found a really good cunt. You're gonna come for me sweetheart. Gonna cum on this cock.” He pulled back to cover his thumb with your wetness before thrusting in again, with deep but slow strokes now, and twirled his finger over your clit, making you moan. 

“Yeah, you’re a pretty thing, for sure”, he said. He felt his orgasm building, and was just waiting for you to come, and then he would remove the fabric from your face.

“Fucking perfect cunt”, he growled. “Takin’ me so good.”

Your walls were clenching his shaft more and more, until you came hard, whimpering, grabbing his biceps. 

“That’s it, come on my cock.” He pulled back and got on his knees, removing the garment from your face, just in time to shoot his cum all over your stomach and breasts, one hand pressed against the mattress. "Oh god...Fuck...Fuck, baby..." he said, panting. 

Then he leaned towards you, took your face in his hands and asked “are you okay, sweetheart?”

You leaned him in and kissed him, and said "never better. Fuck, you scared me at first and it was so hot and perfect!!”

You couldn't contain your joy and you saw the relief on his face. “Damn...you didn't use the safe word so I didn't stop, but fuck, you've got nerves, baby!”

“Yeah, well…that means that next time we can go a little further”, you added with a big smile.

He grabbed a wildflower, he had picked before joining you, from the bedside table. He had put it there while he had been holding you, and you hadn't noticed anything. He handed it to you and smiled. “For my girl”, he said. This man was perfect, and he was yours.

You got back to Jackson. You were behind him when you came through the gates on your horses, looking at him. His slightly graying curls. His mid-season brown jacket and his broad shoulders. His ass on the saddle. And you smiled.

Joel, Jackson.

You loved him, and you loved that place.

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART SEVEN

previous chapters | welp. it's here. this one is a DOOZY, and i'm so sorry. i never expected it to get this long but oh well!!! go grab a snack and get settled cause this one is kinda wild. love u guys sm. i proofread this very quickly so i apologize if there's any mistakes!! and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: the pressure is building in more ways than one. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, mentions of religion, catholic guilt, sexting, n00ds, oral (m receiving), lap-sitting, thigh riding, alcohol, lemme know if i missed any! word count: 15.6k ao3

You're beginning to learn that Joel runs hot and cold.

There have been moments with him, intimate and special and warm, moments that make you feel light on your feet and send butterflies wilding through your stomach. Moments where he's open and present and wants all his attention to be on you, on your body, your pleasure. His touch sets you alight, his words send tingles down your spine.

And then weekdays happen and you start second guessing yourself all over again.

On Sunday you'd attended church with your parents, another attempt at appeasing your mother in lieu of all the lies and deceit. You've only gone to a select few services since you came home, something you know they've been silently judging you for and just waiting to hold above your head. Admittedly you'd been afraid of bumping into people you knew, having to switch on your teenage persona of Good Catholic Girl™ and lie through your teeth about how good it feels to be back home again. Luckily in the few services you'd attended, you'd only run into some elderly family friends, managing to avoid anyone you went to high school with.

Your luck had to run out at some point, though. This service you'd been accosted by none other than Bethany, one of your childhood friends who you'd practically left in the dust when you'd gone away for college. Her friendship was always full of judgement, perfection, and not to mention heaps of Catholic guilt. She'd taken one look at you, appraising you up and down as if assessing you for imperfections, then pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good see you," she'd said when she'd pulled back, a wide - and borderline frightening - grin plastered on her face, "My momma told me you were back, thought I woulda heard from you by now!"

Your mother, standing beside you in your pew, had furrowed her brow at this, clearly confused. You hadn't understood her reaction completely until Bethany had headed off to go say hi to someone else.

"I thought you had lunch with her and Alice the other week," she'd murmured softly to you under her breath, giving you an accusatory look, "Said you'd be helping them out over the summer. That's what you told me, anyway."

Fuck.

"O-oh, right," you'd had no idea what else to say other than that, biting down on your lip and staring straight ahead as the service began. She hadn't said anything else about it, but you'd sat in discomfort and anxiety for the next hour.

In a panic, you'd found Bethany after the service and quickly asked if she needed any extra help at Sunday School, to which she'd responded with enthusiasm - a little too much - that they always needed extra hands on Thursdays to help with lesson planning. You'd jumped at the chance, telling her you'd be there.

That night you'd texted Joel. You hadn't heard from him all day despite it being a weekend, and part of you had been hoping you might go over and see him once your parents were asleep.

guess who's volunteering at church now? this idiot.

You'd expected words of comfort, maybe a joke, at least something that would make you feel better about the situation. However, his response to yours had been brief, short, simple:

Rough. Get some sleep x

This trend of short responses has only continued throughout the rest of the week. He's distant when you text him, responds with a few words at best, short and simple and almost like an entirely different person. It's hard to believe it's the same man who whispers good girl in your ear and tells you how well you're doing, how wet you are, how pretty you look. His texts are some ghostly version of him, constantly fading in and out, barely showing interest or desire - that is, if he texts you at all.

It makes your skin itch, sends your insecurities into a tailspin. Why does this always seem to happen? You can't make heads or tails of it - you know he's busy, know that his job takes a lot out of him, and yet you can't help but feel that there's something more he's not telling you. He'd told you on his back deck all about how he wasn't very happy at his job, how he'd prefer to be retired by now, living life on his own terms - so why can't he just do that? It's clearly taking a toll on him, and while part of you feels empathetic and yearns to comfort him, another part feels angry, irritated.

You'd gone to your friends with these concerns, hoping for some sort of answer or solution to the problem. Instead, they'd been more sympathetic to Joel's plight than yours.

you gotta remember you're not in a relationship with him babe

right!! men are v simple creatures. they see things black & white. ur his fuck buddy and he prob doesn't rly want it to go beyond that.

now THAT'S going too far. she's more than his fuck buddy definitely. he wouldn't have told her his whole life story last weekend if that were true.

telling her he had a fucked up childhood isn't necessarily his whole life story. most guys had shitty childhoods lbr

but he opened up!!!!! fuck buddies don't do that.

exactly

i wish you guys were here :(

i'm honestly 5 secs away from booking a flight to texas bestie. gotta use my dad's frequent flier miles somehow.

--

"My friend Tasha is coming to visit this weekend," you tell your mom on Wednesday evening with a smile, turning your phone toward her to show the Airbnb you'll be staying at, "We're gonna stay at this little bungalow, have a girls' weekend."

Her brow furrows, "Why can't Tasha stay here?"

Because Tasha would terrify you, you want to say, because Tasha doesn't wear pants unless absolutely necessary. Instead you just smile again and say, "I think a change of scenery would be good for me, it'll be like a mini vacation. Plus there's a hot tub."

"Now that's something we need," she turns back to her book with a shake of her head, "I swear, your father is more interested in buying that boat we'll never use instead of something new for the backyard." You hadn't been asking for her permission, but her indifference sends a wave of relief through you; you've still been trying to be on your absolute best behavior lately to make up for the lies.

You head out to the backyard and seat yourself in a lounge chair by the pool, unlocking your phone again and swiping to your last conversation with Joel from last night.

hope you had a good day :)

I'm sure yours was better. Sleep well x

Curt and to the point, not at all what you'd wanted him to reply with. You recall one of your first phone conversations, the one where you'd been experiencing the same lack of interest in his texts, what he'd said to you: Don't think for one second that I don't think about you. But how can you not? How are you supposed to feel desired when he's being like this?

can you call me tonight?

You try not to wait too long before biting the bullet, not wanting to talk yourself out of it, but you do stare at the message with your finger hovering over the send button for longer than you really need to. The sound of the back door sliding open forces you to send it, locking your phone again as your mother walks over and seats herself beside you in another chair.

"It's nice to see you wearing that again," she says with a nod to your chest, referring to your crucifix - after wearing it again last weekend you'd thought that keeping it on might please her. "You're starting to really settle in here again, aren't you?"

You try not to grimace, "Yeah, it's nice being home."

She leans back in her chair, letting the suns rays hit her for a little bit without speaking. You sit there waiting for her to say something else, discomfort flooding through you. You're reminded of how easy it was to sit with Joel in his backyard last weekend, how little pressure there was to put up any kind of front - sitting here with your mother is the exact opposite.

"So, you lied to me," she finally says, voice quiet.

Your eyes widen and you sit up a bit, turning to her with panic already rising in your throat, "Wh-what do you mean?"

She doesn't turn to look at you, continuing to stare at the sky, eyes covered by her comically large sunglasses, "You know what I mean."

You sit there, staring at her with a mix of confusion and fear. There's no way she knows about Joel, how could she know? Who would have told her? You wonder if perhaps one of her neighborhood friends saw you leaving his house, saw you in his car... but the guise of lessons is your cover now, so how would any of that point to your relationship?

Some relationship, you can't help but think to yourself, based entirely on sex and only communication on the weekends.

"Bethany and Alice," your mom finally states, and you feel the panic in the pit of your stomach loosen immediately - oh.

"Mom," you say immediately, shaking your head, "I-I know. I'm sorry. I know I told you we met up but..." you bite your lip, trying to come up with some kind of excuse but coming up empty.

Instead, you do something that surprises you entirely - you tell the truth. Or at least... half of it.

"I really feel like my friendship with them has passed," you admit with a frown, "I'm... I'm different than I was when I left, you know that, don't you? I'm sure you've noticed."

She's still not looking at you but you catch her nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry I lied but... I didn't want to disappoint you. And I didn't want you to worry about me being alone all the time. I'm actually rarely ever alone at college so it's been nice to have some time to myself," you smile, thinking of the girls in your group chat constantly waiting for new updates, "Having lunch with two people I haven't talked to in years just... didn't seem appealing to me. I have different friends now, you know? I'm older, people outgrow each other."

"Friends like Tasha," your mom states, bitterness in her voice, "Tasha who you don't even want me to meet."

You make a face, "Mom..."

She puts her hands up in defeat, shaking her head, "It's fine. You can do what you want and so can she," the words are drenched in judgement, "But you should remember that there are rules for staying here, young lady. And honesty is one of those rules."

You take a deep breath, swinging your legs around the edge of the chair and placing your arms on your knees, your face in your hands. You're so close to snapping back at her, making a comment that'll surely start an argument, but you shove it back down as best you can, counting to ten in your head.

"I'm sorry," you finally say through gritted teeth, "It won't happen again."

"It better not." She stands up then, disappears from the chair as quickly as she'd settled in it. You watch as she walks to the back door again, reaches for the handle.

Your mouth can't stop itself.

"Have you told Dad about my guitar lessons yet?"

She freezes, turns and stares at you for a moment without saying anything, then opens the door and heads back inside, slamming it behind her.

Checkmate.

--

I will when I get home.

Your anxiety is through the roof as you pace back and forth in your bedroom after darkness has fallen, freshly showered and pampered and already out of distractions. Without really thinking much about it, you pull Joel's flannel from under your mattress and wrap it around your shoulders, breathing him in as you sit on your bed and try your best not to keep checking your phone. When it finally vibrates you're not even embarrassed when you pick up on the first ring.

"Hey," you murmur, settling into your sheets and closing your eyes, "Is everything okay?"

"With me?" he asks, voice tired and gruff, "Thought it'd be the other way around."

Your brow furrows, "What do you mean?"

"Thought you'd wanna talk about this church volunteerin' stuff," he's moving around as he talks - you hear the sound of a cupboard banging and the clang of a glass against a countertop.

You don't speak for a moment, listening to the sound of liquid being poured into a cup and Joel taking a swig. There's no sound of the tap - you'd be willing to bet that it's not water he's drinking.

"No, I..." you frown, "I was worried about you."

You hear him take another sip, swallowing loudly and then placing the cup back down with a clink. More pouring. You swear you hear the faint sound of a chuckle before he takes another swig.

"Well that's silly," he states, and you suddenly notice there's a strange difference in his voice, a heaviness you're not used to.

"Are you drunk?"

He chuckles again but there's no humor in it, "Nowhere near as drunk as I'd like to be."

You frown, readjusting yourself against the pillows. You hear him take another sip, "Did something happen?"

He sighs then, deep and tired. You hear him put the glass back down on the counter, "No, babygirl, nothin' happened," hearing him say your pet name makes you feel a little better, the anxiety ebbing away a bit, "It's just that my job is the bane of my fuckin' existence."

He sounds genuinely exhausted, words tinged with resentment. You pull his flannel tighter around yourself, breathe him in, pretend you're in the same room as him, "Talk to me," you say softly, "Tell me what's wrong."

He doesn't reply for a moment - you can make out some footsteps on the other end, the creak of his stairs as he goes up to his bedroom, "No, darlin', it's nothin'. Shouldn't be talkin' about this with you."

"Hey, if something's bothering you, I wanna hear about it. I wanna make it better... if I can."

You hear him settle onto his bed, a satisfied little noise emanating from his throat that makes you smile, "That's the thing, babygirl. You can't. This is just the way life works. You do shit you hate and then you die, plain and simple."

"Joel," you admonish quietly - it's the first time you've said his name aloud since last weekend, it feels right on your lips, safe. He sighs but doesn't say anything else, breath evening out in your ear. "What is it? Really? I've been worrying about it all week."

"Oh honey," he murmurs softly. "Shouldn't be worryin' about me, there are more important things."

"Not to me," you admit, closing your eyes and shaking your head even though he can't see you, "First I thought maybe you were just busy, but-"

"Busy," he scoffs, "Right, yeah, busy. That's my middle name at this point. Fuckin' busy."

He really doesn't sound like himself - you know you still don't know him very well at this point, could be wrong about so many things, but part of you just knows that this isn't Joel. You know his softness, his safety, his kind eyes and crooked smile. This version of him sounds so sad; you can't help but wish you were in his bed right now, able to hold him close and run your fingers through his grey curls. You want him to open up to you.

"You don't wanna hear this shit, angel, you don't," he continues, voice gentler this time, "I know you're thinkin' somethin' is wrong, thinkin' somethin' in particular happened to make me feel like this, but the truth is..." he sighs again, deliberates for a moment and then simply states, "Truth is I'm just bein' stupid."

"You're not stupid," you say immediately, and he chuckles.

"God, you're so sweet, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "It's nice to hear your voice."

Your feel your skin heat up at the words, crossing your legs together unconsciously, "It's nice to hear yours too," you whisper with a smile, "I've missed you this week. Every time you've texted me it's felt like it's not really you."

"I'm sorry, baby," you can hear the sincerity in his voice buried underneath the tiredness and alcohol, "I'm just... I'm a mess." You hear him shuffle a bit in bed, like he's turning onto his side, "Work is always puttin' me in a shitty mood lately and I just...I don't want you to see this side of me."

"But why?"

Another sigh, then-

"'Cause I don't want you to look at me differently."

You bring the sleeve of his flannel to your lips, "I could never look at you differently, Joel," you whisper, "Promise."

He's quiet for a moment and you hope you haven't upset him, hope he's just thinking about what to say. You mean your words; it really would take a lot for you to look at him differently. You know you probably shouldn't feel that way considering you've known him less than a month, that the feeling should scare you... but it doesn't.

"I'm tired, angel," he finally says, voice sad and distant, "I'm too old to be doin' this job."

You wait for him to speak again, listening as he takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, almost like he hasn't told anyone this. And maybe he hasn't.

"But it's hard to admit that to myself," he continues, "And even harder to admit it to you of all people. I don't want you to see some washed up, tired, old geezer, ya know?" he says it with humor but you can tell that he means it, "I mean I used to... god, I used to be able to do shifts like this no problem. Be up at five and home by midnight and able to do it all over again the next day. Now it's like I'm runnin' on a half empty tank of gas. Got no joy in this job anymore and my back is killin' me and-" he cuts himself off suddenly, "And I need to shut the fuck up before I scare you away."

"You're not gonna scare me away," you whisper, and you mean it, "I'm not going anywhere."

He laughs softly to himself; you're not sure if he believes you, but you're choosing to hope that he does, "Ya know, I didn't even wanna tell you my age when we were first together? I wasn't gonna tell you, I really wasn't. But then you were so sweet and vulnerable and honest with me-"

You scoff, "Yeah, lying about knowing how to play guitar, that's certainly honesty."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," he chastises - you can hear the sudden smile in his voice, "No, darlin'... when you told me you hadn't done anythin' before. That's when I knew I had to tell you, 'cause it wouldn't have been right otherwise," he makes an odd noise in his throat and then corrects, "Not that any of this is really right, but..."

"It feels right," you say softly, staring down at the plaid lines on the flannel shirt shrouding your body, reminding you of what it means - that you're his.

"It does," he agrees, voice rough and low, "Right and wrong in all the right ways, huh babygirl?"

You nod to yourself, unable to help the grin that spreads across your face, "Exactly."

The both of you are silent for a few moments but just like last weekend, it isn't uncomfortable or awkward. It's calming and safe, just listening to each other's breathing. You can tell he's tired, can hear it in his slow exhales; again, you can't help but wish you were lying beside him. And you can't help but wonder if a more sober Joel would have even said any of this to you, would have just kept it to himself and continued to deal with it in silence, not bothering to tell anyone how he's been feeling. It breaks your heart a little bit.

"It'll be okay," you whisper gently, soothingly, "It won't be like this forever, Joel."

He sighs, deep and sleepy, "You really are an angel," he murmurs, "So sweet and lovely, babygirl. Love hearin' you say my name like that."

His words send warmth throughout your body - no one has ever spoken to you the way Joel speaks to you, makes you feel the way he makes you feel. You close your eyes and bury your face in the sleeve of his flannel, listen as his breathing gets slow again.

"You should get some sleep," you whisper, even though you really don't want to end the call - but Joel is tired and you want him to feel better, "Text me tomorrow, okay? Even if you're grumpy."

He almost laughs but he's so close to sleep that it comes out slurred and low, "Okay, baby, I will. Promise."

"Goodnight, J-"

"Wait wait wait," he suddenly sounds a bit more alert, rousing himself from sleep, "You didn't tell me 'bout this church thing. You okay with it?"

You giggle at his sudden concern, "It's nothing, really. Just helping an old friend out with lesson plans for Sunday School. Not very exciting."

"Fun," his voice is sleepy and low again, "What're you gonna wear?"

You have to bite down on your lip to stifle another laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you, "Go to bed, you perv."

He chuckles, "Okay, okay. Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight, Joel."

You're about to end the call when you hear him murmur one final thing, so soft you're surprised you can even make it out - but you do:

"Hope I dream about you."

You fall asleep with a smile glued to your lips.

--

You end up wearing the same outfit you'd worn to Joel's last Saturday, though you leave the stockings at home; you doubt the women at church will be offended by your bare legs. You fasten your crucifix around your neck and make sure your mom gets a good look at you before you leave the house; you haven't spoken since yesterday afternoon but you still want her to see you're putting in some effort, as surface level as it may be.

She's in the living room when you come down the stairs, and her expression can't help but turn to one of surprise when she looks up from her book to see you standing there in your Sunday best.

"I'm going to the church," you explain softly, "Gonna help out Bethany with the lesson plan for Sunday School."

She assesses you up and down, eyes fixing on your crucifix for a moment before trailing back down to her book. She doesn't say a word.

Silent treatment. Typical.

Fifteen minutes later you find yourself being greeted by Bethany, blonde hair flowing down her dress as she stands outside the church with a bright smile plastered on her face. You recognize the forced expression immediately, one that you yourself have become an expert in feigning, though for different reasons. You haven't seen her in years but you still know her well enough to tell when she's less than thrilled about something - this time that "something" is you being there.

"I'm so excited you're here!" she tells you, voice shrill as she immediately takes a step forward to envelop you in a haphazard hug that feels neither excited nor genuine.

You should have known it would be like this. When you'd left for college a few years ago you'd promised to keep in touch with both Alice and Bethany, the only "solid" friends you'd managed to keep throughout all the studying, the tutoring, the church services, the extracurriculars, volunteering, etc. It's a miracle in itself that your friendship had even lasted through high school, if you're being honest. You'd begun to distance yourself from them a bit in those final years as you started to lose your faith while theirs only seemed to grow stronger. Leaving for college had been the last nail in the coffin.

"Me too!" you lie, feigning a similar smile as you both pull back from each other.

Though her grin is unrelenting, you can see the distance in her eyes, the sourness and disdain for your presence extremely evident. She doesn't like you. There's an awkward few seconds of silence where she assesses you up and down again, like she had at the service on Sunday.

Why did you even say yes to me coming here? You want to ask as you stand in front of her awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. If you didn't want me here you could have just said there wasn't anything for me to do. But you already know why you'd still been invited despite her obvious disdain for you - keeping up appearances means everything to these people; actually being honest about her feelings would have been disastrous for her reputation.

"Was sure you'd forgotten all about me," she finally says with an edge of malice still shrouded through her smile, "Haven't heard from you in what? Three years? And then you just show up outta the blue, huh?"

You grimace, "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There was... I mean, I've just had a lot going on, I guess." You kick your feet awkwardly; this is not the conversation you want to be having right now.

"A lot goin' on, huh?" she echoes, eyes still scanning you up and down, "Right. Busy with college?"

You nod quickly, "Yeah, it's been kinda crazy."

She raises an eyebrow, "What are you studyin' again?"

"English Lit."

She snorts then, shaking her head and taking a step back, "Right. Reading. Sure sounds crazy."

Your brow furrows, "It's more than that."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she puts her hands up in defense, fake laughing and smacking her lips together, "Just find it funny that an English Lit degree takes up so much of your time." She's being pretty bold with the sarcasm but you suppose she has a right to be angry, though you'd never assumed she'd be this pissed about you cutting her off, "Anyway, we should get inside, they're waitin' for us."

"Bethany," you take a step toward her, softening your expression, "I'm really sorry."

She just shakes her head again and turns away from you to reach for the handle on the front door, forced smile finally fading into a natural frown, "Forget it."

Great start.

You don't talk much after that, not after you're led into a side room off the chapel where a few other women are sitting in a circle with binders in their laps. Bethany simply gestures for you sit down in an empty chair and the meeting begins. Everyone immediately begins their rapport, discussing their plans and reading quotes aloud from their binders while you just kind of sit there unsure of what to do or say. A few of the women give you a tentative smile or two, but the way Bethany periodically glares at you is enough to keep them from actually speaking to you directly. You're okay with it though; as awkward as this is, you'd rather sit in silence than have to pretend. Still, if you'd known it would be like this you never would have come - it's not like your mother appreciates it anyway.

Your phone vibrates at one point, a text from Tasha confirming her flight information with lots of !!!!!!'s that make you smile. As if sensing your sudden mood shift, Bethany puts her hands up with another grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"We keep phones in our purses" she says sweetly, "So we don't get distracted."

You nod and slip it back inside your bag, a gesture that's more of a peace offering than anything else; it seems to appease her.

It's strange being inside this part of the church again after so long. You'd attended your own Sunday School lessons here, prepped for choir and readings, learned your scripture. It certainly doesn't feel as safe or inviting as it once did, though you have to admit that there was always an undercurrent of pressure, of judgement - an energy that still remains today. Bethany watches you closely, quietly assessing you as you nod along to everyone's suggestions and ideas and try to keep up your long-time façade of obedience. You push down the new parts of you that long to take back a bit of control, maybe say something shocking or suggest something ridiculous just to see how they'd react.

You've been sitting in silence for about forty five minutes when Bethany announces its time for a quick phone break. Like clockwork everyone in the room pulls out their devices and starts checking for missed calls from their kids, their husbands. You pull yours out and your eyebrows go up in surprise when you see a text from Joel on your lockscreen:

How's your day going angel?

He didn't forget his promise. A smile plays at your lips as you start typing out your reply, but it quickly fades when you feel Bethany's eyes on you, watching.

"I'm, uh-" you stand up, smoothing out the creases in your dress and gripping your phone tightly, "I'm gonna take a bathroom break."

--

The bathroom is the same as you remember it, high ceilings and white walls, your footsteps echoing loudly as you walk over to the sinks and lean your back against the countertop. You continue typing out your reply to Joel:

well all the church ladies are giving me the silent treatment til i'm worthy of being here again lol. but jokes on them cause my mom is also giving me the silent treatment so i have training! anyway i miss you. wanna hug you. hope you're feeling a bit better today 💕

You turn around and face the mirror while you wait for his reply. You're still smiling - it's impossible not to when you're thinking about Joel, but this smile is bright and genuine, unlike the forced grins you've been sharing with Bethany for the past hour. God, you can't remember the last time anything made you feel as free and happy as Joel makes you, like nothing else really matters. Your phone buzzes and you tear your eyes away from the mirror to read his reply:

Aw baby I'm sorry. I wanna hug you too. Wanna do a bit more than hug if I'm being honest, but you know that already.

You bring your other hand up to your mouth, smiling even wider into it as his typing bubble pops up again only seconds later:

And I'm sorry about last night. If I said anything stupid please forget it ever happened. Me and alcohol don't mix that well sometimes. I'm alright, don't worry about me x

But I do worry, you want to say, I want to make you feel better. But how can you do that from a church bathroom, miles away from wherever he is right now? You're suddenly reminded of something he'd told you a few weeks ago, something you hadn't quite understood in the moment - You can text me whenever you want, tell me all about what you're doin', brighten up my workday. Maybe send me some pictures.

Oh.

You look at yourself in the mirror again and carefully place your phone down on the edge of the sink. Your hand slowly comes up to push aside the collar of your dress, pull the stretchy material past your shoulder and down your arm. You do the same to the other side, slipping out of your sleeves and tugging down the high neckline of your dress to expose your bare chest to the mirror, putting your cleavage on display. You bite your lip, willing yourself to see what Joel sees, a pretty girl in a pretty dress, bra straps clinging to her skin and a crucifix hanging from her throat. Filthy.

You grab your phone and turn it toward the mirror, opening up your camera app and moving it close enough so he can see only your torso, sleeves hanging limp at your sides while your other arm comes up to squeeze your breasts together a bit, accentuating your cleavage even more. You snap a pic and send it to him before you can talk yourself out of it.

He replies seconds later:

Fuck

A grin spreads across your face and you make quick work of slipping your bra straps down your shoulders as well, just as another text from him comes in:

Send me another baby. Please.

Already one step ahead of you, you think to yourself as your cheeks warm and you pull down the cups of your bra, your breasts spilling out into the cool air of the bathroom. You squeeze them together again, nipples hardening tightly as you take another picture and send it along with a coy message:

better?

He must be staring at his phone, waiting for it, because his typing bubble appears instantaneously. You can't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you're holding right now, a change of pace from your usual naivety.

Oh babygirl. This is just what I needed.

i know :)

You glance at the bathroom door and then at the time - you still have a few minutes before the meeting starts up again and your mind is already racing with what you can do with those few minutes. With barely any hesitation you tug your dress up over your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and aiming your phone underneath. You frown when you pull your phone back up to find that it's dark and blurry.

"Hold on," you whisper to no one, then carefully lift your leg and place your heel on the countertop for support, pulling your dress up again and aiming your phone a little better. You pull back your panties and aren't surprised in the slightest to feel that they're suddenly damp.

This picture comes out much better. Your pussy is bare and a little wet, clit poking out past your lips, panties pulled against your inner thigh. You already know it's gonna make him crazy as you hit send.

Jesus Christ

He's already typing something else when you receive it and you can't help but giggle, covering your mouth and trying to picture where he is right now, what he's doing. Is he in a bathroom too? On a break? Or is he in the middle of a job, surrounded by other people? The latter thought makes you even wetter somehow.

Fuck you have such a pretty pussy baby.

thank you mr. miller :)

Will you hold her open a little for me? Show me that sweet little hole?

Who are you to deny such a request? With heat radiating all over your body you bring your phone down again and scissor your lips apart, exposing the innermost part of yourself to your phone camera. You can feel your own slick on the tips of your fingers, and when you push yourself open you feel a bit of your wetness dribble down onto your palm. Fuck. This is hotter than you'd expected it would be. You'd thought it would be a good way to make him feel better, get him through his work day like he'd said; you never thought you'd enjoy it this much.

Oh sweetheart. Look at that.

You feel another rush of pride as you take your leg down from the counter and tug your dress back down, rubbing your thighs together and doing everything in your power not to touch yourself again even though you want to. A quiet whimper unconsciously tears itself past your lips at his follow-up message:

Who's that perfect pussy belong to babygirl?

You've never typed a message back so fast in your life.

you. it's yours mr. miller.

That's right. Good girl.

Your skin is on fire, body tingling in all the right places. You smooth a hand down your bare chest, cup one of your breasts, gently squeeze. It's impossible for your eyes not to roll back a bit when you imagine Joel's hand on you instead, big and firm and callused and perfect. Your pussy throbs in your underwear and another whimper slips past your lips.

i'm really wet now :(

I know angel. Come over tonight and I'll take care of it, Ok?

Your heart leaps at the invitation, even more wetness pooling in your panties at the thought of what Joel might want to do tonight, if there's another “lesson” he has in mind.

yes please

Eyeing the time again, you bite your lip in disappointment when you realize you should probably be getting back. You wait until Joel has finished typing his final response, a message that makes your skin burn with anticipation:

Don't touch yourself til you see me. Keep that soft little pussy hidden, baby. Promise me.

i promise x

Just as you hit send you suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps down the hall, quickly approaching the bathroom. Your eyes widen in the mirror, gaze snapping to your bare breasts, sleeves still hanging loosely at your sides. In a panic you hurriedly attempt to stuff yourself back into your bra before you have company – but you're not that lucky.

The bathroom door bangs open and you freeze with one arm halfway through your sleeve, breasts still completely exposed in the mirror as you turn on the spot to see none other than Bethany standing there, frozen in place.

“I-” she looks flabbergasted, expression one of pure horror as she takes a step back from you and grips the knob of the door like she could rip it off at any moment. Your free arm that isn't trapped in a sleeve comes up to cover yourself as best you can, but you know she's already seen everything.

“I'm- I was just-” You're similarly taken aback and at a complete loss for words, unsure how the fuck you can explain what exactly she's just walked in on.

Her eyes fall to the phone in your hand, like she's putting the pieces together, then she shakily takes another step back and leaves without saying another word, the click of her heels echoing back at you loudly until the door finishes closing behind her.

Shit.

You don't have time to stand around thinking up an excuse; you do briefly consider escaping through one of the windows to avoid facing her, but you know it would just delay the inevitable. Instead you hastily finish pulling your dress back on and stare at yourself in the mirror for one final moment.

Your smile is gone. So is the light in your eyes. You suddenly begin to feel that familiar sense of guilt creeping in, the shame, the sin. You blink a few times and find that there are tears welling up in your eyes, a lump in your throat. A tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you've been attempting to mute for years, whispers to you: What have you done?

--

Bethany doesn't speak to or look at you for the rest of the meeting. It's not much of a change from before you'd gone to the bathroom, but there's something new in her silence now, something you can see in her eyes as she stares down at her binder while the other women talk. Fear. You've known her for most of your life, can sense certain mood changes from a mile away; you've frightened her. And somehow that just adds even more to the guilt building in your stomach.

You'll apologize to her after the meeting, it's all you can do. You genuinely feel horrible that she'd walked in on something so private, seen something she never intended or desired to ever see. You wonder if there's anything you can use to pass off as an excuse; maybe you spilled something on your dress and were cleaning it off? Maybe it was too tight and you needed a breather? Anything is better than the alternative – the truth – but you somehow doubt she'll believe anything you say at this point. That bridge was broken the second you left for college; there's no repairing it now.

The meeting ends with a few pleasantries exchanged and several comments about picking kids up from school, getting home to cook something for dinner, normal things that remind you how abnormal your own situation is in comparison. Half an hour ago you'd felt on top of the world, in control, had power in the tips of your fingers. Now you just feel small again, inconsequential.

You wait until the other ladies have left before taking a step toward Bethany, ready to unload your apologies and beg for forgiveness. She surprises you by speaking first.

"I'd think twice before wearing that again,” she hisses at you, venomous and pointed. Your eyes widen.

"Excuse me?"

"I said,” her words are slow and full of bitter intention, eyes glaring daggers at you, “I'd think twice before wearing that again" she gestures to the crucifix around your neck and you unconsciously reach up to take it between your fingers, glancing down at it before looking back up to meet her angry gaze.

“I'm...” you feel overwhelmed, tears pricking in your eyes again at the sudden burst of rage being directed at you, “I don't...”

"You might not understand this,” she practically spits through her teeth, “but that symbol actually means something to the people here."

"I know what it means.” It comes out as barely a whisper, voice shaky as she takes an intimidating step toward you with nothing but malice in her expression.

"So that's why you've got your breasts out in a public bathroom? A church bathroom?”

“Bethany, I-”

“You're not welcome here anymore, understand?” her voice is full of finality, “You can come to church with your parents-” The mention of your parents sends your anxiety into a tailspin, heart beating frantically in your chest as she continues to step closer and closer toward you, “And you can pretend you're their good little girl. But I know the truth. And it's not welcome in my Sunday School ever again. Got it?”

My Sunday school. The superiority complex is strong and you know deep down that this is all completely rooted in her own fears, her own desires, her pride, but none of that seems to matter when she's staring you down like this, holding you captive with her hostile words.

"Got it,” you whisper, nodding shakily.

"Good. Now go home and take," she points toward the crucifix, the tip of her finger close enough to faintly brush against the shape of it, “that,” she suddenly prods it, giving you one final sneer, “off.”

It takes you twenty minutes to leave the parking lot after that, tears blurring your vision as you cry in your car and try not to let the shame completely envelop you.

--

Going to Joel's that night carries none of the anticipation you'd felt earlier this afternoon; instead you feel nothing but shame as you steal your mother's house key from its dish in the hallway, closing the front door behind you as softly as you can and hurrying out into the night. There's no excitement or rush like the last time you'd done this. You feel like you could cry at any moment as you approach Joel's house, climbing his front steps with a heavy weight on your shoulders that wasn't there before, that hasn't been there in weeks.

The door opens before you can even turn the knob – he must have been watching from his window, waiting for you in anticipation for tonight's “lesson”. Your stomach lurches.

“There's my little Sunday School girl,” he murmurs, taking your hand and tugging you gently inside.

“Please don't call me that,” you say quietly, head down.

He shuts the door behind you and takes your hands in his – you can feel his eyes on you but you're unsure of the look on his face, what expression is on it. Does he sense there's something wrong? Or is he waiting for you to jump his bones?

“Hey,” his voice is soft, concerned, “Hey, look at me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head, still staring at the floor.

“What happened, babygirl?” he murmurs, one of his hands releasing yours to come up and stroke your cheek gently, thumb grazing the wetness beneath your eyes, “Why're you cryin', darlin'? C'mere.” His finger travels down to your chin, pushes your face up to look at him.

His expression is worried, brow furrowed and forehead creased, a frown playing at his lips. You feel your heartbeat slow, the weight on your shoulders decreasing just a little bit as safety settles in your bones. He cares.

“I had a horrible day,” you whisper, feeling tears trickle down into the corners of your mouth, “I know you want to...want to...” you shake your head, “Whatever we were gonna do. But I don't think I can tonight, Joel. I don't feel good.”

“Oh, babygirl,” he breathes, releasing your chin and immediately wrapping you up in his embrace, arms tightening around you as he pulls you against his chest, “We don't have to do anythin', don't even worry about that.”

You bury your face in his chest, breathe him in. His flannel underneath your mattress is nothing compared to the real thing, the real smell of him overtaking your senses and filling you with a true feeling of warmth and safety. His arms are so big – he's so big – and without meaning to you find yourself going completely limp in his arms, bones turning to jelly. It's like finally breathing in the fresh air after holding your breath underwater, a natural reaction to finally being where you belong.

He doesn't question your body's response, almost seems to understand completely as he pulls you up from the floor and adjusts you slightly to cradle you in his arms, carrying you past the living room, past the kitchen, up the stairs and to his bedroom. You just close your eyes and bury your face in his shirt, inhale the scent of sawdust and sweat and cedar and Joel.

He tips you gently onto his bed, presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before settling in beside you without saying anything. You feel his arm wrap around you, tug you in closer beside him as he noses your hair and lets you just exist.

Minutes pass before you finally break the comfortable silence, voice quiet and small - “I feel so ashamed.”

You feel his brow furrow in your hair and you turn around to face him, bringing your arm up around his torso and pressing your hand firmly against his back. He looks at you with confusion, concern.

You tell him everything. About Bethany, your friendship with her and Alice before you left for college, the way you'd already begun to lose your faith even then. You tell him about your mom, about the silent treatment and her reaction to the white lie, the lie that's practically nothing in the grand scheme of deceit you've been weaving these past few weeks. You talk about church and Sunday School and all the guilt you'd felt in that little room growing up, how being there again felt wrong and uncomfortable. You tell him how free you'd felt in the bathroom with your camera, the power you'd felt, reclaimed, and how all of it had been snatched away from you the second Bethany had entered. How she'd destroyed any semblance of confidence you'd been able to find today, how she'd shamed you for the crucifix that you don't even want to be wearing. It's the most you've ever told him, the most you've ever talked to him about anything.

And he listens.

He doesn't seem put out by your venting, annoyed or irritated or ready to send you home at any minute. He just nods, frowns at the right moments, strokes your arm and your cheek, kisses your forehead when you start to cry. Wipes the tears away when you apologize for crying. He stays with you and remains present and attentive, lets you talk and talk until you start to apologize for how much you've been talking.

“I know this isn't even what you signed up for,” you blubber, shaking your head and bringing your hands up to cover your face, “I'm sorry I keep bringing so much- so many complications into your life.”

“Shh,” he soothes, placing his large hands on yours and pulling them away from your tired eyes, leaning in to brush his nose against yours, “Stop apologizin', baby. Stop. You've got nothin' to be sorry for.”

You suddenly sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and bringing a hand up to touch the crucifix still clasped around your neck. You hadn't taken it off like she'd told you to do; you'd felt like doing so would have made you weak, would have been like giving up, even though you'd never wanted to even wear it again in the first place.

“Why does this little thing have so much fucking power over me?” you ask aloud, not directed at Joel but more-so to yourself, “My whole life, no one has ever seen me, they've just seen this.” You shake your head, squeezing the tiny cross in your hand. “And wearing it again has just brought all that shit back, it's done absolutely nothing good. Wore it for my mom and she still gives me the silent treatment. Wore it for Bethany and she still treats me like garbage, tells me to take it off. It's just a fucking necklace.”

Joel sits up beside you, places a warm hand on your thigh and peers at you with those soft brown eyes, lulling you back into a sense of calm, of serenity.

“Give it to me,” he says quietly.

Your brow furrows in confusion. You stare at him for a moment, then watch as he carefully brings his hands up to graze his callused fingertips against your neck, brushing the chain.

“I'll take it off your hands for a bit,” he murmurs, “Outta sight, outta mind. And if you want it back, I'll have it ready for you. How's that sound?”

You nod slowly to yourself, feeling your eyes begin to sting again at his words, “...Good. Th-that sounds good.”

Without saying anything else you hear the sound of the clasp being undone, feel the chain slip away from your skin as Joel takes it from you. You turn your head to watch as he fists it in his palm for a moment, gaze thoughtful and faraway as he traces the shape of the cross with his thumb. A few seconds later he opens his bedside table and carefully places it inside, then shuts the drawer.

And just like that, the weight is gone.

--

You take a shower in his bathroom again, wanting to wash this day off you and start over, clean slate. You could have had one when you got home from the meeting earlier but you'd instead opted to just lay in bed feeling sorry for yourself for much longer than you'd needed to. Now you close your eyes and let the hot water envelop you, wash yourself with Joel's body wash and allow yourself to become his again, picturing him laying in his bed in the other room, waiting for you. This is what matters. This moment. Right now.

You enter his bedroom wrapped in one of his towels, drops of water still spilling down your skin onto the hardwood floor. He's sitting up in bed, shirtless with his legs hidden under the covers. He's seemingly deep in thought as he stares at his phone screen, brows scrunched together. You watch as he pulls the phone away from himself, eyes squinting and lips parting a bit, then pulls it back, like he can't see what he's looking at properly. You realize that's probably the case.

“You need glasses,” you say with a soft giggle, and his expression relaxes when he sees you standing there, phone going back on his nightstand.

“I have glasses,” he admits sheepishly, giving you a tender smile, “Just hate wearin' 'em.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes and take a few steps forward, still gripping the towel around yourself. His eyes fall to the parts of you that are bare, revelling in the way the lamplight reflects on your wet skin. You feel tingles erupt through your senses under his gaze.

“Are you naked?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, “Wearin' pants, don't worry.”

You stand there for a moment, staring. He just stares back, eyebrows going up a bit while he waits for you to say something else. When you don't, he tilts his head slightly, appraising you.

“Do you want me to be naked, babygirl?”

You're answering before you even really know what you want, "Yes."

Without needing to be told twice he reaches under the covers with both hands and shimmies his way out of his pajama bottoms, staying hidden under the sheets as he tosses them out onto the floor. You bite your lip, still just standing there staring at him without moving. You're still dripping everywhere, a little puddle of water forming at your feet the longer you stay frozen.

He raises his finger and playfully curls it toward himself with a smile, "C'mere, baby," he murmurs, "Be naked with me."

You don't need telling twice either.

The towel drops from your body, landing in the puddle of water on the floor - easy cleanup. You feel heat radiating through every inch of your bare skin as you walk toward the bed, avoiding Joel's eyes and quickly slipping in beside him. You really don't know what you're doing - you'd said when you got here that you didn't want to do anything, not tonight, and it's still true. But part of you just aches to be close to Joel, to feel his warm heat, his rough skin, be connected to him somehow. It's what you've wanted all week.

You inch in beside him, back against the headboard, your bare thigh touching his lightly beneath the sheets, and you find yourself tensing up unconsciously. He clocks your reaction immediately.

"You don't gotta be nervous, angel," he tells you softly, soothingly.

You swallow and take a deep breath, "It's hard not to be," you whisper, though there's no reason to, "I'm just... I'm so..."

"What?" he asks, brown eyes seeking yours in the dim light. His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb swiping beneath your eye again like he's checking for more tears - luckily you're feeling much better in that department.

You sigh, shrugging slightly, "I don't know what I'm doing," your eyes fall down to the duvet, knowing that if you pulled it back you'd see your bodies touching underneath, his rough and tan skin pressed against yours, soft and untouched, "I mean, I don't even know why I came tonight. I knew I didn't- that I didn't want to-" you sigh again in frustration, unable to find the right words, "I just... I missed you," your eyes travel back up to meet his, "I just wanted to be near you."

His expression softens, still stroking your cheek as he peers into your eyes, "You feel safe with me, don't you?" You nod. "You know I won't do anythin' you don't want me to do, right?" Another nod. "So it's okay to just relax when you're with me."

You grimace, "How can I relax when we're naked in bed together?"

He chuckles, dropping his hand from your face and shuffling down into the bed a bit, away from the headboard, "Okay, time for another lesson."

You feel your heart sink again, worried that he's not understanding - probably because you can't explain it right - but he smiles reassuringly at you and curls his finger slightly, urging you to follow him downwards. With a quiet inhale you slowly inch away from the headboard and further down into the bed, beneath the duvet. You both stop moving when your heads hit the pillows, laying down fully beside each other.

"Gettin' naked doesn't always mean there has to be sex," he says softly, and you watch as he very slowly brings his hand down beneath the duvet; you know where it's going before it touches you, but you still shiver when you feel his fingers brush lightly against your bare arm, "Us bein' naked in bed together doesn't mean anythin' has to happen."

"But earlier today I said..." you trail off, shaking your head, "I promised that-"

"Earlier is earlier," he brushes your arm again, tender and comforting, "Circumstances change, your day got shitty. Mine was no better. It happens."

His hand travels downward, toward the skin of your hip. He curls his palm around your bare flesh and gently massages it, thumb stroking the edge of your tummy. It's intimate and new, but somehow it feels more safe and comforting than sexual, like he's simply doing something casual, normal.

"Sometimes you just wanna lay in bed with someone" he murmurs, still touching you tenderly, "No expectations, no pressure. No nothin'. Sure, it's fun to touch each other and be together like that, but if you just wanna sleep..." his fingertips brush your back gently, then press firmly into your skin as he pulls you a bit closer toward him, "If you just wanna lay here with me, that's okay too."

You're not sure what to think, staring at him with a million different thoughts flooding your mind. Your interpretation of what men want has always been a bit of a grey area, but you've heard enough from both your family and your friends to know that most of them are just after one thing. You'd heard it from your parents your whole life who always warned about non-Christian boys and their sinful thoughts, then from the girls at college who dealt with disrespect and catcalls, men who turned on them in an instant the second they realized they weren't getting any.

Joel isn't like that. Sure, he wants sex - that's been obvious since day one, when he'd invited you inside his house within minutes of meeting you. He'd only had one thing on his mind, just like your parents had always said. But he hadn't thrown a fit when you'd said no, and up until this point he's made it abundantly clear that the ball is in your court, that it's up to you what happens between the two of you.

"I know all this stuff can be scary," he continues softly when you don't reply, "I know you're embarrassed about bein' so inexperienced, but you don't need to be. I'm here to make it easier for you; I want you to be comfortable."

He nudges forward a bit and slowly begins to wrap his arms around you, warm and inviting. You let him, body going loose and comfortable in his grasp as you feel your eyes close; safe. You feel so safe.

"You're so warm," is all you can think to say, loving the way it feels to have his broad and hairy chest pressed up against your bare breasts, his big and strong arms winding around your smaller form.

He chuckles softly and you feel him press a gentle kiss to your cheek, beard scratching your skin in your favorite way. You bring your arms up and hug him back beneath the blankets, feeling your naked thighs press firmly against his. You're aware of his cock - it's hard not to be, not when it's pressed gently against the base of your tummy, soft against your skin - but he doesn't rub himself against you or do anything to initiate more than this, more than just being together like he'd said.

He really means it, you know he does.

"I can't wait to have sex with you," you hear yourself whisper in his ear; it sounds dirty but you don't mean it to be, "I just...I'm really glad it's gonna be you."

And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for you.

--

You wake up the next morning to a firm and solid presence at your back, bare and warm and comfy. You're surprised you're awake before Joel's alarm, wondering what exactly woke you up in the first place - and then you feel it. Something wet and sticky against your lower back, something pulsing and twitching every so often against your skin.

Good morning.

He hadn't pressed his cock against you like this last night when you were cuddling, hadn't asked you to touch it or even acknowledged its presence. But sleeping Joel is an entirely different person, his big arms wrapped around you tightly, one splayed across your belly while the other holds your right breast, cups it like it's meant to fit there. He holds you in place firmly, breath at your neck, nose in your hair.

You're not sure how much time you have left before his alarm goes off. The sun is only barely starting to come up outside the window, so it could start ringing at any time now. All you know is that the sensation of having him so close to you like this, his most intimate part so close to yours, so wet and warm, it's making you all wet and warm. Your skin almost feels itchy, especially at your neck where his warm breath leaves a damp spot beneath your ear, a spot you're suddenly longing for him to kiss, to lick.

"Joel," you breathe, unable to wait any longer, scared that at any moment he'll have to leave the bed and start getting ready for work.

No response.

"Joel," you repeat, a bit louder this time, and with his name you carefully grind back against him a little bit, the wet head of his cock trailing back and forth against your warm skin. He makes a grumbling noise in his chest, pulls you in a bit closer, "Joel, wake up," you moan, painfully aware of the shape of his balls against your ass, big and heavy and suddenly the hottest thing you've ever felt in your life.

"What?" he groans, rousing from sleep, "What is it?"

It's all the confirmation of awareness you need to suddenly turn in the sheets, bring the duvet down to expose your naked bodies to the both of you. His eyes are bleary and tired as he watches you from beneath heavy eyelids, sees where your gaze has settled.

His cock lays long and thick and loose against his tummy, round tip drooling precum into the hair smattered above his belly button. God, he's so big. Your lips part, saliva filling your mouth like it had the last time you saw it, like somehow your body knows exactly what the next step is.

"I wanna put my mouth on it," you whisper, pushing your hair back behind your ears and turning your gaze back to Joel's face, "Please."

His eyebrows go up in surprise, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. He's probably wondering where this is coming from, how the girl in his bed right now is the same one who just wanted to be held last night, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. He nods quickly, stretches his arms above his head and tries to rouse himself even more from sleep.

"Of course you can, baby," he mutters huskily, voice deep and dripping with arousal, "Go ahead."

"Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," you murmur softly, and before you can even fully process what you're doing or question if you'll even be good at it, your lips are pressing against the warm heat of his wet tip.

He hisses immediately and you pull back, frightened for a moment that you've already fucked up somehow. He shakes his head quickly at you, "No, no, you're good baby, that's good," one of his hands comes down to settle against the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, "Give it a kiss, just like that."

And you do. Time is already not on your side - you feel like there's a countdown clock hanging over your head as you press another kiss in the same spot, his precum sticky on your lips. You'd thought it might be gross, had heard lots about blowjobs from your friends and how unpleasant they can be, but when your tongue darts out to carefully prod against where he's leaking, you find that it doesn't bother you that much at all.

"Tastes funny," you murmur softly, peppering a few more kisses around the wide head and then down to his shaft, thumbing the prominent vein on the underside as you do it.

"Kinda gross, huh?" you hear him say softly above you, a strained edge to his voice that makes you smile against him.

"I think I like it, actually," you admit softly, tongue darting out once again to slowly lap up a bead at the tip. You're not lying; there's something masculine and sexy and inherently Joel about it, something you hadn't been expecting.

"That's good, sweetheart," he murmurs, stroking the back of your head gently, "That's so good, angel." You don't know whether he means your opinion on the taste or simply a reaction to the things you're doing with your tongue, but either way you keep going, hoping that the alarm doesn't interrupt you.

You wrap your lips around the tip carefully, pulling it into your mouth and sucking it gently - very gently. He makes a breathless sound above you and you can't help but bring your gaze up to his face, your eyes meeting his as you swallow him down.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he breathes, thumbing a strand of hair at your temple and pushing it behind your ear, eyes dark, "Look at you."

You swirl your tongue around the tip, still making sure to keep eye contact with him as you carefully slip more of him inside your mouth. He's so big, there's absolutely no way you'll be able to fit all of him inside, at least not without some practice. He doesn't seem to mind that you can only take a little bit of him, his thumb coming downward to stroke gently at the corner of your mouth. He wipes away a bit of drool pooling there, brows furrowing.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, nodding slowly to you in reassurance as you very slowly begin to lift your head up and down, up and down, eyes going hazy, "Takin' that cock so well."

His words spur you on, encourage you to take a little bit more. You've got about half of him in your mouth and you already know you won't be able to take anymore, the spongey tip pushing dangerously close to your gag reflex. You absolutely do not want to choke, don't want to ruin this in any way. You want him to feel good. Feel better.

"Oh, honey," he groans softly when you begin to palm his balls, rolling them gently and feeling their fullness, round and heavy, "This mouth," he touches the corner of your lips again, a bit harder this time, trails his fingers downward to grip your chin, "Made to have my cock in there, huh?" his eyes are boring into yours, pupils blown wide, "You like havin' your mouth full like that, babygirl?"

You nod and whimper around his length, speeding up a little bit and never breaking eye contact with him, obsessed with watching his eyes get darker and darker, filling more and more with lust as he watches you pleasure him.

"Yeah, you do," he murmurs, voice soothing again like last night, calm and safe, "What a good girl you are, wakin' me up to suck my cock. Couldn't wait, could ya, baby?" you shake your head and the head of his cock slips past your throat a little too far, so much that you have to pull off him quickly to be sure you don't gag, "Aw, baby, that's okay," he reassures you gently, "It's a lot, I know."

Your eyes are hooded and your jaw is already starting to ache - you're not used to doing something like this and he knows it, strokes your cheek gently as he takes his cock in his hand and carefully pushes the tip against your lips.

"You just kiss it, baby," he whispers, dark and deep, "Kiss that cock 'til I come, okay?"

You do as you're told, lips parting slightly as he rubs the head of his cock against your lips and strokes himself a few more times, bringing himself close to the edge. He's so gorgeous like this, so rugged and almost animalistic as his chest heaves, groans escaping his mouth as he watches your lips. His hand is still in your hair, grip getting tighter and tighter as you lean down a bit so he can gently fuck the tip of his cock back into your mouth. Your eyes close involuntarily and you can feel your pussy throbbing against the mattress with every thrust, lips tight around him.

"Ah, fuck," he grits out suddenly, then pulls his cock away from your mouth and releases all over his chest and stomach, thighs tensing up as you watch his eyes practically roll back into his head. Your eyes are wide and attentive, locked onto the white ropes of come that spurt against his bare skin. You find yourself wondering what it would feel like at the back of your throat instead, on your tongue, what it would taste like...

Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel's alarm going off, loud and obnoxious. Before he can pull himself up to turn it off, you lean over to the nightstand and do it yourself, swiping it off and turning back to his blissed out form. He lies there panting for a moment, eyes closed. You can't help but smile, feeling pride swell in your chest again at the knowledge that you made him feel like this.

"Don't go back to sleep," you whisper softly, "You gotta go to work."

He groans then, but opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile and a wink, expression still sleepy and satisfied, "Who needs an alarm clock when I got you, huh?" He gestures with his finger for you to move closer and you do, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, "Mornin', darlin'," he murmurs against your mouth.

"Morning," you whisper back, and you revel in the smile on his face when you pull away, "Sorry for jumping your bones so early."

He just shakes his head with a wide smile, "Never apologize for jumpin' my bones, baby." His eyes fall to your naked body, settling on your pussy, still wet and aching against the sheets, "Aw, sweetheart, lemme take care of that for you."

You shake your head, pointing to his phone, "We don't have time, you gotta get to work and I gotta get home before my parents wake up," you slip out of bed and reach down to pick up the clothes you'd stripped yourself of last night before your shower. He starts to protest but you put your hand up with a soft laugh, "It's okay, Joel. I wanted to do this for you, start your day out right. Give you a chance at a good day."

He peers up at you from the bed, face smooshed into the pillow as he watches you get dressed, "Doesn't seem fair."

You just roll your eyes, pulling on your panties and shorts and pointing to his phone again, "Really, we need to hurry," you bite your lip as you slip your t-shirt over your head, "I have keys this time but I still don't wanna risk it."

"Okay, okay," he grumbles softly, "I'm goin'."

He slips out of bed and stretches, tilting his body back and forth. You both hear the way his bones crack, the noise that emits from his throat when he bends his back a certain way. You watch his expression change, going from content and sated to embarrassed and grumpy in seconds.

"And just like that, the illusion is gone," he mutters to himself, limping away from the bed and toward the door without so much as a side glance to you, clearly upset by the sudden reminder of his age. You frown, watching him go and feeling an ache in your chest that makes a home there for the rest of the morning.

--

He'd made you breakfast last time, so it's only fair that you make something for him today. Unfortunately cooking has never been your forte, so about fifteen minutes later you're waving a dish rag at the fire alarm while the sausages you'd managed to burn are smoking in the sink. Joel comes running down the stairs after his shower with a look of concern on his face, only for it to fade into one of amusement when he sees the situation.

"Now why am I teachin' you guitar when you clearly don't know how to even use a stove?"

"Oh, shut up," you can't even pretend to be mad at him, grin spreading across your face as you shake your head and breathe a sigh of relief when the alarm stops going off, "Help me clean this up."

You end up making toast instead.

"You know, we've still got about ten minutes," he says across from you at the table as you eat, peering down at his watch quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause I fail as a cook," you mutter, making a face at your slice of toast, "I was gonna do eggs too, you know."

"Let's not reach for the stars too quickly now," he says with a sly smile, putting his hand up quickly when you prepare to retort, "Anyway, that's not what I meant."

"What did you-" you look up from your toast and see him beckoning you toward him again like he had last night, finger curling toward himself with a sly smile on his face.

You look at the clock on the oven, biting your lip.

"It'll take five minutes tops," he says, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"Really?" you challenge, "Five minutes?"

"Five minutes."

That, you'd like to see. Dropping your toast back onto the plate, you stand up and walk to the other side of the table, unsure what exactly he wants you to do. He spreads his legs a bit, points to his thigh.

"Sit here, babygirl," he says, voice low and hypnotic, "Wanna show you somethin' new."

Yes please.

You situate yourself on his lap, one leg going between his thighs while the other dangles carefully off the other side of the chair. He pulls you down, big hands coming up to palm your hips and hold you there firmly. You swallow tightly, unsure exactly what he has in mind.

"You know what feels really good?" he murmurs, thumbs slowly stroking the bare skin between your shirt and your shorts.

"What?" you whisper, peering down into his eyes with intrigue.

"This," he says softly, then very slowly begins to move your hips, dragging you carefully back and forth along his thigh. Your eyebrows shoot up, lips parting as you feel the ache in your core immediately return, the pressure of his thigh and the movement of his hands setting your nerves alight.

He looks down at his own handiwork, watches as he moves you back and forth, back and forth, rocking you over and over again until you're whimpering in his lap, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. He just smiles up at you, doesn't stop his movements.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?" he breathes, watching your expression closely, "Feels good to finally have somethin' touchin' that pussy, huh baby?"

You moan at his words, hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around him as you lean forward to bury your face in his neck. He just starts to move you faster, chuckling softly to himself when your hips buck against him. It's amazing how such a simple action can feel so fucking good, the constant stimulation against your clit through layers of material making you writhe and whimper.

He removes one of his hands from your hips and slips it inside the leg of your shorts, fingertips tickling your inner thigh gently. You grapple onto him even tighter, hugging him like a koala as his thumb slowly begins to stroke you through the wet spot of your panties.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about this pussy yesterday," he murmurs, thumb rubbing your clit over and over in little circles, "Those pictures were so filthy, baby."

You moan against his shoulder, gripping him tighter as his thumb begins to pick up speed. He presses a kiss to your neck, wet and hot; it makes your eyes roll back.

"And this little hole," he murmurs in your ear, suddenly adding a finger inside your shorts to circle your entrance slowly, "Kept thinkin' about this tiny little hole, all open for me."

God, when he talks like that you can't even fucking think, brain running on autopilot as he pulls you impossibly closer and lets you bare down on his thigh, his finger and thumb trapped under your weight, pressed firmly against your core.

"Who's gonna fill up that hole, babygirl?" he whispers in your ear, soft and secret, "Huh? Who's that hole belong to?"

"You," you whimper into his shoulder, eyes shut tight as he strokes his finger up and down through the fabric, adding even more pressure to the overwhelming sensations you're already feeling "It's yours, Mr. Miller."

"And what's gonna go inside it, sweetheart?"

"Hnhng," you can't speak, inhaling shakily as Joel's other hand presses harder against your hip and continues to guide you, fucking you back and forth against his thigh. He just watches you, eyes dark, lips parted, brow furrowed.

"Words, babygirl," he reminds you softly, "Use your words. What's gonna go inside that tight little hole? Huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock."

"That's right," he murmurs, the tip of his finger prodding inside you gently, taking the damp material of your panties with it, "Gonna fill you up so deep with my cock, honey. You're gonna feel it right here," he moves his hand up and places it at the base of your belly, pushes against it softly, "Gonna be so big inside you, sweet girl."

Oh fuck.

"I want it so bad," you groan, wrapping your arms even tighter around him, "I need it Mr. Miller."

"You do need it," he agrees softly as he kisses the top of your head, bringing his hand back down from your belly to guide you again, moving you back and forth "Need to be fucked so bad, don't you baby? Til you can't even think straight."

You nod frantically, continuing to grind yourself down against his thigh over and over and over, "Please," you whimper, almost a squeak, "Please, Mr. Miller."

"Shh," he soothes, pulling you in closer and moving your hips against him, looking at you with those big brown eyes full of lust and safety, "I will, babygirl. Soon. I'll fuck you so good, honey. I promise." Your body hitches in his lap as you near the edge, eyes going wide and mouth popping open as your orgasm starts to hit you, "Yeah? You like thinkin' about that, huh? Me fuckin' this soaked little pussy into my mattress? Fillin' you up so deep you can feel me in your stomach?"

You can't hold on anymore, eyes shutting tight and high pitched whimpers flowing past your lips as you start to come. He pins you against his thigh, holds you there tight and firm as your pussy pulses and throbs through his pants. You lean forward to bury your face in his neck as you ride it out, feel his hand press against your back.

"Oh, good girl, that's it, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple gently and stroking your back in little circles, "Come all over my lap, sweetheart. Show me how wet she can get, there you go. Good girl."

After a moment of catching your breath and willing yourself to pull your face away from his neck, you both bring your attention to the clock on the stove - five minutes have passed.

"Told ya," he murmurs, pulling you into one more hug, hitching his chin over your shoulder and rubbing your back gently as your head lolls against him.

You're too blissed out to tease him back.

--

The arrivals gate isn't as busy as you'd expected, thankfully. You lean against your car a few hours later, still reeling from your morning with Joel as you wait for Tasha to show up. You'd told him about your weekend plans before you'd left, insisting that despite spending time with Tasha you'd still be attending your Saturday lesson.

"Can't wait," he'd murmured to you, low and deep in your ear after giving you one final kiss at the door, "Got somethin' real special planned, babygirl."

You'd practically melted down his front steps.

"THERE'S MY FAVORITE SLUT!!" you suddenly hear someone shout, and you look up to see Tasha at the sliding doors, bags dropping to the ground as she sprints at you head on and collides with you seconds later, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

She's just the same as she was the last time you saw her, high spirited and excitable and sweet, practically vibrating in your arms with joy. Only she could rock a bright purple cowboy hat and sweatpants, not to mention the lime green flip flops.

"Oh my god," you gasp in her ear, hugging her back and spinning on the spot, "You're insane."

"I'M EXCITED!" she squeals, pulling away from you and clapping her hands together, "We're going out tonight!!! Together!!! For the first time ever!" She brings her hands up and places one on either side of your face, lips turning down into a pout, "My baby bird is leaving the nest," she sighs dreamily, shaking her head, "I never thought this day would come."

"Please get in the car," you laugh, popping the trunk and gesturing to her bags, "before I change my mind and send you back."

--

You give Tasha the complete run-down on Joel as you get ready at the Airbnb, updating her on everything that's happened since you'd last checked in. It feels so good to actually talk about it, not text or simply mull it over and over in your head. She gasps at all the right spots, makes ridiculous faces in the mirror as she curls her hair, nearly drops the curling iron on the floor when you tell her about this morning.

"AND YOU LIKED HOW IT TASTED?" she practically screams, running out of the room and then running back in like she has no idea what to do with herself, "Oh my god, you are down bad. Jesus Christ," she makes a face, "Sorry, I mean- uh, fuck."

"Tasha," you roll your eyes, "You can say Jesus Christ."

"I can?" her eyes widen and she sighs in relief, picking up the curling iron from the floor, "Thank god."

You're going clubbing tonight for the very first time; a night of dancing and cocktails and flirting and living out all the college dreams you still have yet to experience. You're a bit tentative about the flirting part though, a concept that floors Tasha immediately.

"You can't go clubbing and not flirt," she says with faux shock, spinning in front of you as she assesses her dress in the mirror, "It's the best part!"

"I have a-" you cut yourself off, making a face at your reflection.

"You do not have a boyfriend," Tasha says immediately, "There has been no definition, babe. You need to keep reminding yourself of that."

"But it's not just fucking," you argue with a grimace, "I mean, it's not even fucking at all, we still haven't taken that step yet."

"I know, I just don't want you to get your heart hurt, honey," she frowns, leaning toward the mirror and applying some lipstick, "Boys are mean."

"Well, Joel's not a boy," you say quietly, fingering the hem of your own dress, a short and cute pink number that Tasha had brought specifically for you to wear, "He's a man."

"Mmhm, so you keep telling me," she raises an eyebrow, "I think I need to see this man for myself. Give you my honest opinion, see if he's really this gorgeous, perfect hunk you make him out to be."

You bite your lip, trying not to smile as you think back to this morning, how he'd looked in the early morning light, naked and sleepy and beautiful. And all yours.

"He is," you murmur softly.

--

You're supposed to be going clubbing, supposed to be out dancing and drinking cocktails and living out all your college dreams for once in your life. But where are you instead?

"O'Neil's!!" Tasha says excitedly, pointing to the red neon sign outside the bar you've just arrived at, throwing you a shit-eating grin that just makes you playfully roll your eyes.

You never should have told her the name of the bar Joel frequents, because she's now made it her mission to find him, get a good look at him and judge for herself if he's really all you're making him out to be. It's your own fault, you suppose, considering that you don't have any pictures of him or any frame of reference to articulate exactly the way he looks. For Tasha he's shrouded in mystery, but not for much longer.

Your ears are already ringing when you get inside the bar, the chatter and buzz of other people's conversations flooding your thoughts. You're not used to being out like this, being around drunk people or high people or literally anyone whose ideal night out is spending time at a bar. It's nerve-wracking and you instantly feel like a fish out of water, gripping onto Tasha's arm after showing your ID to a man who ogled both of you way more than he needed to.

"So this is where he hangs out," Tasha says, assessing her surroundings and leading you towards the bar where most people seem to be gathered, "Quaint. Little divey. Definitely not for our crowd but hey, we're learning new things tonight." She taps the counter and tilts her head toward the bartender with a smile, "Watcha got on tap?"

You wrinkle your nose, "I thought we'd be having cocktails."

"Oh we will at the club, don't you worry. But if we want the authentic dive bar experience, beer is necessary," the bartender lists the options and Tasha orders, though you barely hear what either of them are saying over the loud music and conversations. Your eyes scan the bar for any sign of Joel, but people are packed so tightly in here that it's hard to really see anybody, faces and bodies melding together.

The bartender hands Tasha the drinks and she throws him a wink, "Thank you, darling."

You envy how easily she navigates a situation like this, so natural and graceful despite her surroundings that are anything but. She hands your beer to you with a smile and holds hers up in front of her, tilting it toward yours until they clink.

"To you finally coming out with me," she toasts with a grin, "It's about damn time."

You smile back and take a sip, trying your hardest not to wince at the bitter flavor. It's not like you've never tried alcohol before, you just already know that you hate beer.

"Delicious," you lie, and Tasha just laughs and gestures toward a suddenly empty booth in the corner of the room.

"Let's sit there while we suss him out," she mutters to you, pulling you along with her and slipping inside, "Now, what's he look like? You've been pretty vague about those details." She waggles her eyebrows, "Be honest, is he bald?"

You almost spit out your second sip, shaking your head furiously, "No, he's not bald. Full head of hair."

She puts her hands up in defense, "Hey, it's not that crazy to assume!"

You just shake your head and laugh, turning back toward the bar and the people and trying to get a gage on where he might be. You know he usually comes here with his contracting crew, but what the hell does a contracting crew even look like?

"Help me out, gimme a description!" Tasha says eagerly, wiggling in her seat a bit and following your gaze, "He has facial hair, right?"

"Yes, it's kinda messy and scruffy," you bite your lip, squinting a bit as if that'll help you.

"And what's his hair color?"

You don't look at her as you reply, "Um.. grey."

Tasha's hand slaps down on the table and you jump, eyes going wide as you turn back to her, "What?"

"Grey? Girl, how old is he?" she doesn't sound angry or judgmental - she sounds intrigued. And almost... impressed? You gnaw on your lip, scrunching your eyebrows together as you look back toward the crowd of people.

"Um... he's..." you stop short, freezing when your eyes land on a familiar shirt near the bar, a red and black plaid button down that you'd seen only hours ago, "There! He's there!" You point at him quickly, ducking your head a bit and motioning for Tasha to lean in closer to get a good look.

"Oh... my god," she breathes, and you feel a rush of pride at her response, unable to stop the grin from plastering itself to your face as you peer at him.

There's something different about him that you can't place - maybe it's just because you haven't seen him in a public place like this, aren't used to what he looks like when it's not just the two of you. You try to put your finger on it, and while you're doing so he does something that makes your heart positively swell in your chest.

He smiles. That beautiful crooked smile that pulled you in the day you met him, set your skin on fire and brought you to the point of no return. Those crinkly eyes, the grey in his beard, the softness of his eyes, they send that familiar feeling of safety rushing through your bones. And you realize there's nothing different about him at all. That's your Joel, sitting on a bar stool after a long day of work, nursing a glass of whisky and chatting about his day. He's the same Joel who you'd woken up with this morning, just in a different setting.

You're so distracted by his rugged beauty out in the open like this - overwhelmed by his charm and his smile - that it takes you a few seconds to see who exactly he's smiling at.

You feel your heart in your throat.

There's a woman sitting beside him. Not just beside him, but so close their stools are touching, so close her legs - long and lean and beautiful - are brushing his. It's not subtle the way her ankle moves against his calf, up and down, up and down. She's wearing jean shorts and a halter top, skin dark and gorgeous and exposed in all the right places, beautiful brown braids cascading down her back and shoulders. You can't see her face but you already know she could be a model. She probably is.

No. No, something isn't right.

Maybe it's not him.

Time feels like it's frozen, like everyone in the bar has stopped moving except the two of them, like a giant spotlight is shining directly on where they sit, where they touch, where they smile at each other. Because it is him. It's him in all his gorgeous Joel glory, peering into the eyes of a woman who isn't you, a woman who's probably more his type, closer to his age, a woman who's somehow making him smile like that when she shouldn't. That's how he smiles at you. That's your smile.

A woman who's now leaning in for a kiss.

No. Please no.

A woman who he kisses back.

This isn't happening. This isn't real. This is just some sick and twisted nightmare you're about to wake up from at any second.

His hand comes up to cup her face.

"I'm gonna throw up," is all you manage to gasp out to Tasha as you yank yourself from the booth and sprint out of the bar, hand splaying across your belly as you bend over and release the contents of your stomach all over the sidewalk.

You feel Tasha's hand on your back, pulling your hair behind your ears. She's saying something but you don't understand it, ears continuing to ring despite being outside in the cool air, away from the loud music and chatty conversations, away from them.

"Oh honey," you finally hear her say, soft and kind as she rubs circles into your back, a comforting action that brings no comfort to you, not now, not after what you've just seen. "I'm so sorry."

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (4/7) - dbf!Joel Miller x reader

Somehow you end up in the car with Joel for five hours. With all that heat outside, you just can't be held responsible for what happens next.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 3.6K A/N: I thought "Hmmm, maybe I should add this one thing" - and not surprisingly, it got very much out of hand. @magpiepills this one is extra dirty for you!

< part 3 | series masterlist | main masterlist

“Wait!” You sprint over to the truck as you hear Joel rev the engine and turn out of the driveway - surely he wouldn’t just drive off over being two minutes late? “Damnit Joel, hold on!”

He stops, giving you an amused look as you’ve almost dropped your purse and tripped over your own two feet. “Told you. 10 a.m. sharp,” he said matter of factly, giving you just enough time to open the passenger door and hop on the bench seat before he takes off again, not even giving you the chance to close the door properly.

“JOEL! The door!”

He sighs, once more stopping the car, and he leans over to turn on the radio and fiddle with the dial - giving you just enough time to close the door and put on your seat belt.

“Such a dick,” you mutter under your breath, and you can tell he hears it but just decides to not respond directly through it. “Are you the time police?”, you ask, now clearly audible as you lean back over the console to toss your purse on the backseat. “Jeez, didn’t know you’d get your panties in a bunch over being just a minute late.”

“Two minutes.” He changes the radio station a few more times until he finds a song he likes, humming along with it as he takes a right turn, headed to the main road. “ ‘s nothing but proper manners to be on time if someone gives you a ride.”

You roll your eyes as you settle in, straightening out your sundress. “Okay, Daddy,” you sigh, glancing to see if maybe that gets a response out of him, but he just keeps his eyes on the road. “Your shirt is inside out, by the way.”

“Agai-...?” He seems exasperated as he looks down at his shirt, which then hardens into a frown as he recognizes you are just messing around with him. “Shut it,” he mutters, but you can’t help but grin in satisfaction. 1 - 1, back to being even now.

“What is that awful music? Nirvana?”, you ask him, determined to not let him have the silence he asks for - and if he’s anything like your dad, you know that he’ll get extra annoyed at you trashing Kurt Cobain.

He gives you a look in disbelief that makes you think that you made the right choice there to poke at him. “Are you kidding me? No, that’s not — this is Local H,” he gives a nod at the radio. “Bound For The Floor.”

“Sounds dirty. Are they also from the eighties?” Just to make matters worse and see how far you can go, you prop your legs up on the dash - only for Joel’s large hand to reach over and sweep them right back off again as he gives you a murderous look.

“1996, you little shit. One more move like that and you can walk all the way to the DMV.”

“How am I supposed to know that? I wasn’t even born back then,” you say with a pout, your skin feeling pleasantly like it’s on fire where he touched you. “You’re being mean.”

“No shit.” He shakes his head, refusing to look back at you, but you’re pretty sure he has an excellent view of your bare legs with the way you’re currently sitting. “You’re being a brat.”

“Mmm. You into that, Joel?

There it is; one of those long suffering sighs you’ve heard repeatedly from him before. He refuses to answer your question though, also not taking any of the other bait you try to throw at him during the ride. When you finally get there, he pulls up at the front of the DMV office.

“I’ll be back in thirty to pick you up. Don’t be late again, okay?” His eyes soften slightly for just a moment before he adds, “Please. Got a lot to do today.”

“What if it takes longer? Maybe you should just give me your number so I can text you if I run late,” you suggest innocently, and you see just the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Fuck, if only he’d give you his number, you could send him some of the spicy pictures you took last night… 

“Thirty minutes,” he repeats without missing a beat. “I’ll wait for five, else you can get an Uber back home.”

“Fine. Thanks, Joel.” You lean back over the console, trying to grab your purse - which not surprisingly is right out of your reach, just as planned. “Sorry, I need to just… give me a second.” You fully turn around in your seat, leaning all the way over to the back as you can reach your purse now, knowing damn well that this position gives him a clear view of your hot pink lacy panties under your dress. As if you needed further confirmation, the way you hear him practically choke is a dead giveaway that he indeed got an eyeful of you. 

You look over your shoulder at him, seeing that he’s intently staring straight ahead as his hands are gripping the steering wheel tight. It’s impossible to not laugh at the strained expression on his face, and you decide to take advantage of being so close to him. “Dirty old man, don’t think I didn’t notice,” you tease, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as you then hop out of the truck, not waiting to hear a response. “See you in thirty!”

When he picks you up thirty minutes later, you’re ready to greet him with a snarky comment. All of that goes away the moment you get back into the truck and find your senses overwhelmed by the rich, sweet smell of coffee and caramel. Which is more than just a bit confusing, because all you’ve ever seen Joel drink is black coffee.

Joel, seeing your surprised face, nods at the cupholder as he takes a sip of his own coffee. “Hope I got your order right,” he offers, then pushes a slightly greasy Starbucks bag over to you. “Didn’t know what you’d want to eat though. If you want something else…”

You open the bag curiously, then gasp as you pull the flaky treat out of it. “Fuck, croissants are always great,” you blurt out, unable to stop a groan when you taste the ham and cheese filling. “This is so good. Thank you,” you manage after swallowing the first bite. When you lift your coffee cup to your lips, you realize he actually got your signature drink - an oat milk latte with extra caramel syrup. “How do you even know this is my drink?”

He shrugs as he takes a turn to the highway, following the signs towards the Home Depot location on the way back home. “It’s how you always make them at the house, right? Oat milk and that caramel stuff. Kitchen always smells like it,” he says as he tries to shrug it off, but you can tell he seems pleased that he got it right.

It’s not just the coffee that warms your chest as you drink it; you’re genuinely lost in your own thoughts for a while as you’re trying to process not just the kind gesture, but how much attention he must be paying to you in order to notice things like that. Your ex never did, nor did the boys before him. Even though they weren’t inconsiderate per se - it just wasn’t something that would register on their radar, it seems.

Boys. That probably was the problem to begin with. Why waste your time with boys when a gorgeous DILF like Joel was so much more attractive, thoughtful and capable?

Following Joel throughout Home Depot makes you realize that it isn’t just about him being capable - it went beyond that. He was a man on a mission, clearly knew what he wanted to get, and gathered everything with ease, including the heavy lumber. You would have happily lend him a hand, but he immediately shot that down, refusing to let you carry anything heavy 

“ ‘s not a problem, darling. I do this day in and out,” he assures you when he eventually loads everything in the back of his truck; the lumber, hardware, some new blades for saws, and other things of which you’re not even sure what they are.

“I can easily pick up things like that,” you protest mildly as you sip from your coffee, and when he bends over to pick up something from the ground, his shirt rides up his back, exposing his narrow waist. Fuck. How is this man so hot? And how does he not seem to be involved with anyone?

“Never said you can’t,” he agrees easily with you, grunting as he puts the final things in the trunk bed. “Just said you don’t have to. You need to stop anywhere on our way home?”

‘On our way home’ – the intimacy of those words suddenly makes you blush. You can’t help but wonder how exactly that would be, a home with him. You’ve never seen his place, as far as you know. Maybe you should ask him, just come up with a reason for him to take you there, affording you a kind of privacy you wouldn’t have at your parents house.

“No, I’m good,” you say truthfully, and he gives you a nod and a smile as he unlocks the cab of his truck. 

“Alright then. Let’s go.”

Somehow it’s already past 3 pm by the time you get home. Five hours alone with Joel. While it had turned out very different than expected, and you enjoyed it, you were also wound up beyond belief. 

Sitting so close to him in the truck, smelling him, getting to see his little frowns, smirks, pouts and sighs in a different setting than at the house. Not to mention how watching him stride through the store and deal with things had developed a competency kink for you on the spot. It felt like somehow he had dripped over every part of you, saturating you with his presence to the point that you felt both overstimulated and woefully unsatisfied.

“Thanks again for the ride. I had a good time, really.” You smiled as you bit your lip, watching the little lines around his eyes crinkle as he smiled too.

“Not a problem. Just don’t be late next time.” 

Your heart jumped as you tried not to respond to that - next time? So he wanted to spend more time with you later? Today sure turned out to have been a success. 

The house was quiet as you went upstairs, your clothing sticking to your skin, and all you can think about is getting clean and calming down a little as you head into the bathroom. You turn on the shower, letting the water heat up a little as you stare at your reflection in one of the mirrors above the sink. 

Being back in Austin, catching up on sleep, not needing to think much about things like meals or rushing somewhere for classes - it has been nice. A breath of fresh air even, not to mention how much more time you’re spending outdoors these days. You look nothing like the person who cried for several weeks while wrestling through your finals, when the knowledge of your ex cheating on you hung around like some kind of persistent ghost, unwilling to leave even now you finally had acknowledged what happened. You weren’t looking forward to needing to return to that place once the semester started, but at least you still had half of the summer here.

You hear Joel’s footsteps in the kitchen downstairs, and you pause as you wonder if he’s going to come upstairs. He too had been sweaty from the hot weather, especially with loading and unloading the truck, so it was likely that he was due for a shower too. So… maybe you should make the most of it. Especially since you two were the only people at the house.

It’s not like you’re trying to trick Joel, you tell yourself as you strip out of your clothes - your underwear soaking wet as expected from having been so close to him. Things happen. Sometimes people forget to close a door. And if that happens to be the case while you’re about to shower, and Joel just happens to walk by… well. How bad can that be, really?

You unlock the door and fully open it, glancing across the hallway at Joel’s room that’s almost right across the bathroom. Yeap, once he comes upstairs and heads to his room, you should be right in the line of sight.

Your heart is thumping loudly as you leave the bathroom door open and head over to the shower, you try to calm your nerves by assuring yourself it’s fine. Don’t overthink it, just take a shower like you usually do. You wash your hair, putting in conditioner for a few minutes while you use the bubbling strawberry body wash to clean yourself. But as you run your hands over arms, breasts and belly, your mind automatically wanders off to thoughts of Joel again. Not just the time you spent together today, but also so many other moments this past week.

Yesterday he came home late, well past ten pm, reeking of sweat, hard labor and wood shavings. He seemed like he had planned to make a beeline for the shower, but your mom had insisted he’d sit down first and have something to drink and eat a sandwich, before he’d go upstairs to wash and crash into his bed. 

“You men are just the same; if I don’t make you eat, you’ll both starve because you’re so busy,” she had scolded him. So he sat down on a barstool, looking slightly begrudged. That all disappeared the moment there was food in front of him though; he wolfed down everything on the plate like he hadn’t seen food in days. 

You had been reading a book, picking at a bowl of cherries as you tried to not pay too much attention to him. Yet something about him all dirty and worn out after a long day of work had accelerated your pulse. Perhaps most of all it was his scent, still, that got your attention. Not overwhelming, but still clearly present - typically ‘Joel after his work day’, and you had to press your nails into your thighs to not inhale it deeply. 

Right now, just the thought of that - along with having smelled him so close to you in the truck - has you dripping wet, sensitive to the point that you almost jump when you slip a hand between your thighs. The shower isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to get yourself off, but the combination of your thoughts and the warm water proved to be impossible to resist. You pinch your nipple as you try to be not too loud, imagining Joel’s mouth on your breasts, biting you until you whimper for him. He would turn you around, make you face the wall while spreading your legs, and…

You hold your breath when you hear someone move in the hallway, then quickly close your eyes tight as you circle your clit with your fingers, ignoring the nervous feeling bubbling in your chest. “Joel,” a soft whine escapes from you after all, begging him to come into the bathroom, get in the shower with you and take whatever he wants from you. “Please…”

For a moment all you hear is the sound of the shower running, then unexpectedly the door slams shut - not by coincidence, but clearly done so deliberately. Your eyes fly open as you’re hopeful for a second that he’s standing there, stripping for you - but all you see is the closed bathroom door. There is, however, the sound of footsteps moving away from the door, going down the hallway. You curse as your building orgasm disappears almost immediately. Great. Blue balls as well as being rejected. 

You try desperately to coax yourself back to the edge, using your fingers, the strong stream of water from the shower, and even change positions a few times. Even when you press your front against the tile, fucking yourself with two fingers while you imagine Joel pounding into you from behind, you can’t quite get back to the same level of excitement - the moment ruined by the rejection of that door being slammed shut.

Eventually you just give up, finish your shower and wrap yourself up in a big towel to go back to your room. But just as you’re about to open your bedroom door, you hear a low groan that you immediately recognize as being Joel.

“Fuuuckkk. Oh, god, baby… please, yes, please…”

You gasp as you turn around, staring at Joel’s bedroom door that’s firmly closed. ‘Go over to him’, you urge yourself. But as much as you want to, and it arouses you beyond belief to think of him jerking off after having seen you in the shower, the risk of being turned down again is too offputting. His moans are something else though, and your nipples are immediately hard as your pussy starts leaking, greedy for the release you didn’t manage to get in the shower. 

So you slip into your room, turn on some music and shove a pillow between your legs to ride it, thinking about being on top of Joel. How he would stare up at you reverently, hands on your hips as you ride him, and he’d be unable to stop whimpering your name. The way he would gasp, beg for you to let him come - apologize for making you wait so long until he gave in. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You close your eyes as your hips work faster, and you slip your hand between your wet cunt and the cotton of the pillow, shuddering as you push two fingers inside of yourself. “That’s it, pretty girl. Oh, fuck, look at you…”, Joel coos, wrapping his arms around you as his hips buck up against you, again and again. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight. You want me to come inside of you?”

You nod breathlessly, the pleading words spilling from your lips, and he just laughs as he lets his hands slide down to your hips - you’re still riding him, but he’s clearly in control, guiding you just the way you need.

“Filthy girl,” he breathes in your ear, letting one hand slide from your hips to your ass. “You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?” Whimpering, you nod again in agreement, but that only gets you a smack against your ass, so firmly that it takes your breath away. “I asked you a question. Use your words for me,” he demands, fucking up even harder into you. “Tell me what you’d let me do to you.”

“Anything, Joel!” you cry out, burying your face into the pillow as you’re shaking with desire, feeling the tension build up so it could soon release. “Anything. Come inside me, please, give me… I want it, let me feel you…”

“You want me dripping out of you? Filling you up so much that you spill over?”

You cry out as you come hard, the words you imagine him saying to you echoing loudly in your mind, your body easing at the long awaited release, but still it’s not enough. Blindly you reach for the silk bag on your nightstand, pulling out the first thing you get your hands on - a bullet vibrator -, and you turn it on while you keep the fingers of your other hand still buried inside of you.

“So greedy. You're a dirty little thing.” Joel’s laugh fills up your head, taunting you, telling you exactly all the things you want to hear, all the things he would do to you, and soon your body convulses for a second time. By the third time, your hand has gone numb and you feel lightheaded, as if you’re going to pass out. The words echoing in your head are no longer the imagined whispers from Joel, just the moans you heard earlier in the hallway, coming directly from him. “Fuuuckkk. Oh, god, baby… please, yes, please…”

Trembling, you click off the vibrator and wipe yourself clean with a shirt that’s within reach while you desperately try to control your breathing. You’re just gonna take five minutes to recover - that’s all. Just close your eyes for a moment. And next time… next time you hear him moaning, you won't hesitate. You'll just go straight into his room.

Next time.

next: part 5 >

series masterlist | main masterlist

🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates and turn on notifications to find out when the next part drops!

[ozarkthedog]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃

summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.

pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k

author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.

huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours. 

Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.

What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. 

When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help. 

It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits. 

Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.

An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet. 

His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.

He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss. 

“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked. 

His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed. 

The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.” 

The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.

Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.

You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.

He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.

You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.” 

Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”

You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.  

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”

Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.   

He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.

A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer. 

“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.

“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.

He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”

You were truly and utterly fucked. 

It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.

You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.

Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh. 

“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.” 

“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.”  He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled. 

Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.

Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.

You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.   

“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.

Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”

You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands. 

You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.

You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.

You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.

You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.

“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."

The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.

“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”

You wanted to scream. 

“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.

“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"

It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground. 

“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”

You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.

“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.

You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.

“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.

Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”

“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.

“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.

You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”

“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.

His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.

Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.

“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.

Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”

You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men. 

“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.

You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.

“For fucks sake,” the older man groans. 

Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone. 

Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”

The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.  

 “But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”

The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.

Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.” 

His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too. 

Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."

In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room. 

“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt. 

“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”

Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.

You forgot about the other man in the room. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out. 

He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.

Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue. 

His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.  

Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you. 

You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”

Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive. 

Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.

You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.

Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face. 

Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously. 

When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit. 

Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.

You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.

Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.

It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.

A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips. 

Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure. 

"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.

Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you. 

Both men curse at the sight and feel of you. 

It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.

“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.

Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours. 

You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.” 

You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.

They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey. 

Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath. 

“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.” 

Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure. 

He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core. 

You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.

“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.

"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.

"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain. 

Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.

You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.

He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton. 

"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.

"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete." 

You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.

He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"

The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.

“Yes,” you rasp, defeated. 

He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back." 

You nod quickly under his grave stare. 

He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you. 

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl." 

He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.

You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.

Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller's Injury ; Mr. Miller viii

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. [18+. mdni] word count: 7.8k summary:  ❝"you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed."❞ warnings: storm vibes, fairly tame compared to other parts, being stood up, dom!reader, sub!joel (FINALLYYYY), brief slapping, injured!Joel, anger, spitting, brief edging, choking, PiV unprotected, this is porn with no plot, masturbation, slight voyeurism, begging, degradation, age gap kink if you squint, calling joel 'old man', v brief praise kink, lots of pet names SORRY notes: thank u all for ur patience, it's been SO LONG. I am sorry this isn't the longest update but i hope you still enjoy! switching things up a bit bc they're learning to Talk about their Feelings <3 finally <3 there will be another update v v soon as well!!! hope you all enjoy. [previous. this is part eight of the Mr. Miller series.] [masterlist]

[important - i no longer use a taglist. I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!] ★  

to say you're pissed is an understatement. 

forty-five minutes, you huff as you stare at the ground, forty-five minutes standing alone, looking like a fool in this fucking dress. 

the rain sloshes down on you, sending muddy streams down the sidewalk and under your boots to kiss the streetwater. it's been raining for days - ever since that black out the other night, it's barely let up; you're getting permanently used to your hair heavy from the drops. you glare sharply down at yourself, watching as sheets of water slap against your soaked corduroy jacket - the vibrant thread that sewed it together again all those weeks ago wilted by the water. you pull your jacket tighter over yourself, as if that could help at all. 

you shouldn't fucking be out here right now, getting soaked to the bone. 

sighing harshly, you squint up the street to your own house, lights off and waiting sadly; when you'd left, you'd expected not to return until the morning, anyways. 

but here you are, an hour later, dateless and more furious than you've been in ages.

you feel like a fucking idiot.  

serves you right for trusting that Joel would bother to put on a nice button-up and walk down to the bar to see you. 

you try not to glare against the rain when you pass his house; the lights are glowing from the upstairs window, and your blood boils - he's probably in there sitting around doing nothing because he's too terrified to be a man and face you in person. the bitter taste in your mouth only grows at your brief concern - you didn't see him yesterday at all, but you'd just assumed he was on patrol. 

you're about fifteen steps away from your your front door, already planning on downing a whole bottle of liquor in your bathtub by the time you hear it. 

someone shouting your name. 

turning your neck, you spot Ellie, waving her arm from only twenty feet away; the onslaught of drops has quickened, and you can't hear what she's saying. gritting your teeth, you trudge over to her, trying to hide your exasperation, "what's going on?" 

"been looking for you!" is what she shouts as you walk towards her, shouting through the rain. "-just asking where you've been lookin' like that." she gestures to your dress, one definitely meant to wear at backyard barbecues and not in the middle of torrential downpours. she pulls you by the wrist onto their porch; the lights flicker slightly and it's just barely less dry - you ignore the wall behind you, thinking back to all those months ago when Joel'd had his cock shoved down your throat with your head pressed up against it. 

you blink away the memory, anger simmering in your stomach; you ignore the heat in your abdomen. 

"I had plans." you grunt, crossing your arms. her brows raise doubtfully; so full of sass for a teen. "you seen Joel lately?" you ask, hoping to sound nonchalant; she must pick up on the anger that flows from you; frowning, she jerks her head, "seen him? that's why I was lookin' for you. I've been babying him all day." 

you stare at her, lifting a brow. "babying?" you parrot. 

she frowns, tilting her head; the water sprays in a mist onto you, out of the direct exposure but still splattering fat sheets of rain onto your ankles. "didn't Tommy tell you?" she asks, but you're nearly out of patience. 

you sigh sharply, "no, I haven't seen Tommy. been busy all day at the gardens dealin' with this shit."

this shit has been stressing you out beyond belief - a near monsoon in fucking Wyoming, drowning the crops you very desperately need for the commune. root rot is one thing, but losing all the food you'll need for months is something else. 

"well, neither have I, but if you see him, tell him I could use a hand with his brother." Ellie sasses, arms crossing. for a moment, you nearly laugh - she's standing like Joel, a look of defiance in her eyes. she huffs, "I've been trying to keep Joel in bed, but you know how stubborn he can be. he got injured on patrol yesterday."

a flicker of concern betrays the anger in your heart. you blink at Ellie. "injured? he's injured?"

she glances towards the door then back at you, her own shirt pelted with rainwater. "he dislocated his shoulder. it's pretty bad."

you let out an exasperated sigh; that's where he's been? fucking injured and didn't bother to tell you? you purse your lips, feigning calm as you actively fight off the sense of embarrassment at your own irritation. "I can help you, don't worry." you promise, wishing you'd had a chance to change out of the dress. "if you want a break, I'll make sure he doesn't kill himself for a while." even if you wish he would. 

she smiles, nodding as she turns on her heels, "thank you - you know how he is. didn't even mention he was hurt 'til I found him trying to hide it. been trying to tough it out, I guess."

you follow her into the house, gritting your teeth as you wring water out of your hair. "unbelievable," you mutter under your breath. 

Joel is lying in his bed. 

You resist the arousal that climbs at the vision of him outstretched in bed, propped perfectly on a pillow, hair grown out and curling; instead seething with irritation at him. 

"what the hell is this, Miller?" you say in lieu of a greeting, crossing your arms the second he makes eye contact with you. he's surprised to see you, but not as surprised as you'd hoped.

he looks as terse as ever, eyes darting from you to Ellie, who lingers in the doorway. he grunts, shifting slightly and wincing. "hurt m'self." 

you resist a laugh of disbelief, smiling sarcastically, "I can see that." 

he is too fucking stubborn - you're too fucking stubborn, too; there's a beat, then you give in, "you couldn't have sent someone to tell me not to show up? I looked like a complete dick down there by myself." you snap, wounded. he rolls his eyes, "well I sent her to ya, didn't I?" he snaps, gesturing to Ellie with his good hand. she shakes her head, throwing her hands up, "I don't want any part in...whatever this is." 

she disappears after muttering something about finally getting some peace and quiet - it's silent until you hear her bedroom door slam, the rain pelting down against the windowpanes. 

unable to hide any longer in the quiet, you cross your arms. he sighs. "look..." he mutters, wincing as he sits up slightly. "I'm sorry I couldn't find ya. y'don't deserve t'be sittin' alone by yourself like that." 

you clench your jaw, nodding, "you're right, Joel. I'm sorry you're hurt, I understand, it's just-" your doubts creep back in and you shake your head. "I don't know what I thought." you chicken out, looking away. 

you hear his breathing; it seems to move with your chest - a patient, quiet breath that waits for your anger to subside. 

"this ain't 2003, sweetheart," he finally says, but there's a warmness in his voice; it is wholly familiar and foreign at the same time. "can't jus' text you to let y'know I fell and dislocated my shoulder." he sighs gruffy; you huff, walking closer to the bed. "yeah, that and if it was 2003, I'd still be learning to ride a bike." 

his eyes are sharp on you - a reminder of that unspoken thing, that tension that lives between you and him, pushes you further "don't." he says lowly, eyeing you stormily as the rain forges on outside. "don't remind me of why I shouldn't be doin' this." 

the hesitation that always lingers between you sneaks up like mist through a forest; you push at it, wading through until you're next to where he reposes in bed. you can't resist the smirk that plays at your lips. "you aren't doing anything, Mr. Miller," you tilt your head, bending to fit level with his face. "if you recall, you're too injured to even leave the bed." 

he hums, eyes stirring with that playfulness that you never quite expect; he tilts his chin up and it's all you can do to not kiss the lips that part beneath you. "c'mere an' make me feel better then, would'ya?" 

you lift a brow, letting your lips brush just over his cupid's bow, imbued with the thick hairs of his mustache. you shake your head gently; he thinks everything's fine after a measly sorry? 

"really?" you whisper against his lips, "you expect me to come play nurse and give myself to you just like that?" you tut. a swirl of desire in your gut when his good hand slides up the back of your thigh, squeezing the round of your ass. 

you hope he cannot see the goosebumps up your thighs at his touch. 

"y'didn't even play nurse." he argues, tilting his head up at you. you cross your arms, unimpressed; he sighs sharply. "sweetheart, 'm sorry." he offers again. you roll your eyes, "whatever, Joel." you whisper, leaning close to him; the way he looks up at you is saccharine; revenge must be the only thing sweeter. an idea creeps into your mind; a taste of his own medicine.

you let your lips brush his, but then pull back slightly. "if I can wait for you, you can wait for me." you say, pressing a chaste kiss to Joel's lips. his eyes are no longer clouded in that warm brightness; no, he is cloudy with irritation. you bite back a grin as you pull away from him, eyeing the chair next to the bed. "the fuck's that mean?" he grunts, eyes hawkish as they travel with you, lowering until you're comfortable in the chair. you let his gaze travel the expanse of your legs; the dress you chose to wear to your date is soaked - it sticks to your thighs and reveals more than you'd expect - you don't shy away, though. when it's Joel, you can never shy away.

"what are you doin'?" he questions again, voice deep with growing interest. 

you smirk sultrily, tilting your head as you hum, propping your foot just next to his leg, on display for his gaze. 

you spread your legs gently, letting your hands explore the planes of the body you know so well; over your chest, you flick wet strands of hair away from your slick skin before skimming over your curves. a flicker of lightning in the window and Joel's eyes are darker than before; you hum, "I'm keeping you company, Joel." you simper, letting the strap of the dress slip slowly off your shoulder on one side, your hand traveling down your chest and imagining his own rough, calloused ones. "unless you'd prefer I leave?" you ask with a small pout. 

"I'd prefer if you stop bein' a brat and get the fuck over here." he snaps; patience worn thin, you just smirk, knowing he's enjoying the display of your body for him in the dark room. 

you slowly lift the hem of your skirt up, over your hips; his eyes hungrily devour the lace you wore - a treat for him at the end of your date, you'd thought - now teasing.

you make a show of slipping a hand into your underwear, gasping gently as your fingers slide through your folds. you flush at the arousal that has gathered there - there might be something to say about how turned on you get when you're pissed at Joel - yet you let yourself relax, gently moaning as you rub your sensitive clit with one finger. 

Joel sits up, his eyes dark and lip caught between his teeth as he watches you; he winces slightly, but ignores the pain, “let me.” he says, trying to sound authoritative. you just smirk, shaking your head. “no.”

Joel ought to learn to be patient.

so you resume, your finger gently sliding inside you;  it’s nowhere near how it feels when Joel touches you, but you'd never dare admit such secrets out loud. instead, you add another finger; curling them, you let out a moan, biting your lip only when you remember there is another person in the house. thankfully, the rain slams on the windows hard enough to mask what noise you've let escape your lips. 

Joel stares at you as if it's torture; you can see his own arousal growing in his pants; even as he adjusts, his brows drawn and breathing sharp. sliding the other strap off your shoulder, you let the top of your dress fall; your breasts on full display, nipples perking at the cold nip of the air. 

"god damn it," he hisses, "quit your fuckin' teasing." 

you don't, though: and he cannot conceal the groan he lets out as you push your chest out, arching your back as you start to thumb your clit. pleasure courses through you, soaking your panties as you watch Joel watch you. 

his hand barely twitches before you shake your head, "don't touch yourself." you snap, eyes sharp as you watch his palm press over his obvious hard-on. 

he glares at you. 

"y'think you can tell me what to do?" he snaps, eyes sharp though you can see the flush on his cheeks at your words. this makes you stop; instantly you're pulling your fingers out of yourself, sitting forward - his eyes widen only slightly when you stand, suddenly standing over him again. 

he is a dream - laid back, cheeks red and eyes sharp from the tease, straining nearly out of his pants in his desire. he pants, swallowing as you trail your fingernails over his chest slowly; up, higher... 

your hand wraps around his throat - it looks small, next to his tanned skin, but the way he swallows, the way his cock twitches - he loves it. you do, too. you lift a brow. "don't think I won't fucking leave you here like you left me alone at the Bison." tilting your head, you smirk. "someone has to put you in your place, right?" 

his jaw is taut as he blinks at you, not daring to argue. you tilt your head, staring at him until he rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "fine, darlin'." he grunts, "have it your way." 

his hand slides away from his crotch and with a satisfied smirk, you let go of his throat. "don't move your hand from the mattress unless you want me to leave." you snap, sending him a look, "okay?" 

his jaw ticks, as if deciding how much power to give up. he sighs sharply, "fine."

satisfied at his answer, you slide your underwear off your legs, leaving the dress on your torso.

Joel swallows hard, cheeks pink with desire as you climb up onto his lap; his eyes watch you warily, knowing you well enough to know you wouldn't give in this easily. 

and you haven't. 

instead you slide back slightly onto his thighs, relieving the brief pressure of your heat over his clothed cock; you snake your hand down, returning your fingers to your heat to find the velvety arousal waiting for you. he watches with lidded eyes and a slacked jaw. sighing, you wiggle your hips, gasping as the tips of your fingers brush your sensitive clit. your other hand rises to pinch a nipple gently, eyes locked on Joel's. he's halfway delirious - exasperated, irritated, melting with desire. 

"is this better, Joel?" your voice drips with antagonism as you slowly slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, "you wanted me close, didn't you?" 

he says nothing; watching you, his hips move with yours, providing you with friction as you touch yourself on his lap. a muttered curse under his breath until you whine gently, fingers stretching yourself as you wish it was him. 

"god damn it." he mutters, head falling against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling as if in silent prayer. you can see him searching for some god, high up there, who will take him out of this torturous pleasure. there is a burning desire, a sweet pride, knowing that you are the only one who can. "-gonna be the death of me, darlin'." 

it is not the first time he's said this. in fact, the night you first fucked around with Joel he said something very similar as you walked the patrol logs to Maria and Tommy's; the memory makes you flush, the anticipation, the butterflies, the shock. 

the first time Joel put his hands on your skin, caressed you, fucked you. 

"y'gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?" his voice always slips into that Texan accent more when he is aroused; the heat spreads over your body and goosebumps crawl over your legs as you let your head fall back - moaning his name, you thumb your clit gently. it never feels good enough when you do it yourself; hiding this truth, you hum, sending Joel a salacious smirk. "if you want me, you're going to have to beg for it." 

this seems to have brought him back to Earth, back to this bed, to remember who it is that straddles him, who it is he desires most in this town. he bristles at your play for dominance. "-oughta fuck you 'til you remember who you're talkin' to. remember your manners." he snaps - his desperation is leaking through; you can only smile knowingly as you buck your hips on his thick thighs. pleasure starts to pool in your stomach as you tilt your head back, your thumb flicking over your sensitive nipples. he watches the movement like a hawk; angry, straining with pleasure but unable to do anything against your ministrations.

you lean yourself, not daring to stop your movements - instead, your hand slips from your breast to return itself to Joel's throat; squeezing as you feel yourself tremor with ecstasy. the want in his eyes drives you forward. 

"where are your manners, old man?" you whisper, breath hot as it fans across his lips. "standing up a pretty girl like me?" you tut, shaking your head. "such a mean man. you know, I could have my pick here in Jackson-" you sigh, feeling yourself pulse with your imminent high, your fingers pumping into yourself and pleasure coursing through you. 

he lets out a sigh, a whisper upon your own lips, "-I know, baby." he grunts, hips bucking against yours, seeking any kind of friction for himself. something about his desire, how you've rendered Joel Miller completely desperate and breathless for you, nearly pushes you to the edge. 

"-fuck, 'm sorry, darlin'," he grunts; his hand grips the sheet below him, his voice quieted with the knowledge that Ellie remains somewhere in the house. You swirl your hips, nearing your high as your head tilts back; you move, your tits bouncing as you do, gasping gently. a part of you wishes to see how far you could push it - could he cum in his pants like this, barely touched? 

but a yearning desire to be filled by him overtakes that thought. 

"see-" you cut yourself off with a quiet, sweet moan, pulsing around yourself, "see how wet I am?" you spread your thighs open further, leaning back; his eyes, hungry and unrelenting, stare down at the apex of your thighs, where you've made a wet patch upon his pants, where you fuck yourself on your fingers. "yeah, baby. let me feel that pretty pussy, then." he grunts.

you lift a brow. Joel lets out a desperate moan, eyes rolling gently as you pitch your hips forward, grazing his straining cock. You eye him coyly. "where's that please you love to hear so much, Joel?" you hum, your thighs trembling as you stave off your orgasm. "or have you already forgotten how to speak?" 

his eyes strain as he resists the urge to put his palm over you - your tits, your face, your cunt - you grin in satisfaction. good. "jesus," he grunts, "lord- just-" he clenches his jaw, hips bucking up against you; you gasp at the friction it causes, pushing your palm into your clit hard. "-let me fuck you." he tries to order.

you shake your head, "beg for it." you says, breathless as you scrunch your eyes shut, nearing your orgasm. "beg for me, Joel." you say again, clenching- so close- 

his grip finds your hand, tugging you away from your seeping cunt so quick you barely know what's happening. you gasp, eyes flying open; his eyes are not nearly as sharp as they were- no, they're begging, pleading: wide, staring up at you like you floated down from Heaven above. 

"-don't cum yet, please." he says, voice breathless, "wanna feel you 'round me. promise, I'll do anything you want, anything - please." 

you could cum untouched at just the words, the arousal dripping from his lips, the way his eyes drink you in like he never wants to see anything else. 

the breath tumbles out of your lips, staring at him with satisfaction, your own cheeks flushed. "was that so hard?" you pull him in for a kiss that has him keening, tongue struggling to fight for the dominance you refuse to give up. even if it took Joel dislocating his shoulder, you will not let him take away your first real breath of control over him. you lean in to his ear, biting his lobe softly as his breath hitches, "now let go of my fucking hand." you whisper coldly. 

he drops it like dead weight. 

smirking, you lean back, lifting your fingers between you and him; your slick coats them, shining with your evident arousal and desire. you don't have to ask; he's taking your wrist gently and pushing your fingers to his lips in a second. 

you watch in awe, desire simmering deep within you as his tongue laps every drop of your arousal from your fingers, his eyes rolling back in his head, groaning gently at the taste of you. "fuck, sweetheart-" he moans and you're unsure if you've ever heard something so delicious. "please, let me feel you." 

you hum, roving your hips over his, sliding until you straddle him properly; his fist, squeezed and wanting, clenches against the sheets below him. a part of you flourishes within your chest as you watch him - so clearly aroused, yet letting you take the reins for once and doing what you say. 

experimentally, you drag a hand down his chest. careful to avoid his left shoulder, which is propped up and slung with a makeshift sling from an old t-shirt, you explore him. 

Joel has never really let you look at him very much before; you smile, eyes trailing over his puffing chest, his stomach, down to where you roll your wet cunt over the fabric of his jeans. the texture is rough - you nearly yelp as your clit catches on the cold metal button; Joel's lips quirk up in a small smirk at the noise you let out. 

you ignore his stare, not letting yourself think about how full of admiration it is at the moment; no, you let yourself bathe in the arousal, in the waiting that Joel has patiently gone through for you. your eyes find his face - that rugged, guarded expression: you see the flicker of vulnerability within them that you're slowly getting used to, that warmth that always catches on your heartbeats and makes them skip or pound just that much quicker. 

so patient now, but where was he hours ago, when he could have come told you in person he couldn't make your date, or hell even just sent Ellie? 

"somethin' wrong, baby?" he asks, voice low - his brow is similarly so, drawn over his eyes and you nearly lean to kiss the concern away; you remember the stares you'd gotten at the Tipsy Bison just an hour ago, sitting alone - another bout of irritation washes over you. "y'tired of tryin' to tell me what to do?" 

you let out a small huff, "thinkin' about what I was gonna let you do to me in the bathroom at the Bison tonight." 

it's barely a hint at anything, but his eyes shut at the image. "I'm s-" 

you really don't want to hear it - he's already apologized several times, and you forgive him. now, you're much more focused on giving what you get. "-shut up, Joel." you snap - and he does. 

jaw snapping shut, he watches you as you move on him, eyes desperate, hungry. 

you let your hand slide over the wet patch you've made to palm him, squeezing his cock experimentally. it throbs, twitches; the breath catches in his throat at your palm and you hum. he lets out a low moan when you unclasp his jeans, tugging then down enough to let his cock spring free. 

he's impossibly hard; leaking precum and throbbing, Joel stares up at you as you dance your fingertips around the course hair at the base, watching him move under you. his lips are parted, but nothing more than grunts and breaths leave them; you grin. "what's wrong, Mr. Miller?" you tilt your head, "scared you'll cum too quick?" 

his eyes roll at your sass, but whatever lip he was about to deliver is cut off when you move your hips upward; grazing over his aching cock is your wet arousal, your cunt enveloping him in your heat. it's as much a tease to him as it is to you - you're aching with need, cunt swallowing around nothing each time you slide your hips against his cock and feel it slide through your slick.

"please." it is like a breath in the wind, but it makes you smirk. your hand slides to hold his jaw, tilting his head until he looks at you straight-on - his eyes are wide and pleading, begging. it coils something very deep within you. 

"you're real handsome like this, Joel." you say, just to watch the blush over his cheeks. his brows furrow, nostrils flaring; irritated, bashful, embarrassed. "I love it when you're so desperate you can't think straight." 

he lifts a brow, not daring to say anything - you see the knowing look in his eyes, though; he loves it just as much as you do. you wonder, briefly, if he's ever really let go like this before, let someone else take control. it makes you throb to think you might be the first one. your clit brushes to head of his dick and you both gasp; your hand slides until your thumb pulls on his bottom lip. parting his mouth, he watches you expectantly - a tingle within you as you realize what he expects without having to tell you, and so you do it. spitting, you watch as your saliva mixes with his on his tongue and he groans, swallowing it quickly. 

fuck, it feels good; your slick has ruined his jeans and you've run out of patience. 

slowly, you rise to your knees and grasp his cock, giving two pumps that have his eyes shutting and swears tumbling from his bitten lips. but then, you notch him at your entrance, swallowing thickly at his size - no matter how many times you take Joel, it's always a stretch.

he feels it too, his eyes widening in bliss. "c'mon, now-" he becomes impatient; you serve him a warning look, lifting a brow. his expression is one of pure resentment and arousal - you're relieved for a moment that he truly is injured, otherwise you know your ass would be spanked completely raw and you'd probably be fucked out on the floor having alerted the whole neighborhood. 

"quit actin' like you've never done this before," he snaps, clearly fed up with playing around, "like you weren't made to slut yourself out on my cock. let me feel you." but his eyes meet yours, and he tilts his head, adding a small, sarcastic, "please."  

a shiver of desire cascades over you; irritation at him standing you up, at getting injured and not telling you, at the storm for ruining your crops - all the frustration dissipates when you sink yourself slowly onto Joel, feeling him split you open. 

you moan in tandem with him, taking him as low as you can go until you let out a short whine, feeling his cock punch your cervix. deep- he always gets so fucking deep. 

you remain slow because you know he wants it fast. a rise and fall of your hips, teasing, as he drags alongside your channels, your cunt squeezing him deliciously. you're already nearing bliss once again, eyes fluttering at the feeling; using him, taking what you need. 

his own eyes are screwed shut, jaw more tense than you've seen before; breathing heavily, it's as if he's trying to fight an orgasm already. you smirk, shaking your head, "already so close, old man?" you tut, leaning back to balance one hand on his lower thigh, the other hiking up your dress so that he can see your slick, where his cock is swallowed by your greedy pussy. 

you sigh, the feeling euphoric as his hips slowly buck to meet yours, fucking into you as you bounce on him. you try not to let your eyes roll back, taking in the slow sweetness of him filling you to the brim. "you're so fucking lucky, you know that?" you hiss, eyes knitting together. "such a fuckin' asshole, yet here I am letting you fuck me." 

he groans, head falling backwards and his free fist not wrapped in the sling fisting the sheets with a death grip. you slow your hips slightly when he doesn't respond, watching him with arousal swirling across your vision. a low fire burns bright within your core, your orgasm building up again. 

“fuck," he nearly moans it, "I know. I know. just- don’t fuckin' stop, baby.”

you've never heard him this desperate; it shoots ecstasy through your very veins, curling your toes and making you clench around him, throbbing in pleasure. "pussy's fuckin' heaven." he mutters to himself. you flutter, shivering down your spine.

"dirty man," you whimper, starting to fuck yourself onto him harder; you bite back a moan as you hear your wet cunt against him, legs beginning to shake. "how long did you know me before you decided you wanted me, hm?"

he lets out a low groan, hand flying to rake through his curls as he bucks his hips with yours. your hand flies to his cheek, landing a smack upon the apple of it. a light slap, one to make sure he's paying attention; the doe-look in his eyes makes your arousal coil, that spring getting tighter and tighter.

is this how he feels when you're underneath him, looking up at him like that? "I asked you a question." you whisper.

"m-moment I saw you," he says, "y'know that, baby." he affirms, barely able to string his words together. warmth courses through you at the admission, so free, so honest. 

"fantasized about me for months, didn't you? and now you have me, and you're leaving me all alone on our first date?" you shake your head, pushing your hair away from your face before toying with your tits once again, sighing as you shiver. you're chasing your high already, spurred on by his flustered state, by the power you've found within it. 

the rain slams on the windows outside, but you couldn't care less. 

you know he's injured; you know Joel, he wouldn't intentionally hurt you - but standing you up on your first date still stings, and you're not afraid to let him know. 

you're close to your orgasm, and Joel can tell - his thighs are thick cords of muscle beneath you as he begins to fuck up into you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix and making you bite back a scream of pleasure. 

you cast yourself forward, avoiding his injured shoulder as you nip along his neck, tongue sliding against the damp, hot skin. "we can play games all we want, Mr. Miller," you whisper against his ear, relishing in the deep spot he hits within you, "but we both know. I own you." 

he lets out a groan at this, his hips bucking up into you; you gasp as his cock punches your cunt, hitting so deep you keen upwards, toes curling. fuck. "yeah baby, I'm yours-" his voice nearly breaks as he says it, looking as if fighting an internal war over risking further injury to his shoulder if it means pulling you down harder against him. "fuck, so fuckin' pretty like this, all mine." 

his chattermouth seems to have returned; in great time, too, as you grip the hand he's cemented to the sheets and shove it between you two, gasping as you near your high. 

"make me cum," you instruct, "make me cum, then maybe I'll let you cum. can you do that?" 

it is an echo of what he'd asked you just days ago in your own bed; with the rain pouring down, flickering in candlelight. 

"fuck," he mutters, "yes." he affirms; you nod, too blissed out to respond more. his fingers spring to life desperately, his own thrusts sloppy as he seemingly tries to stave off his own orgasm. your body is on an electric wire; every muscle clenches when his rough fingers find your clit, toying and rubbing furiously to bring you to that brink. "g-good, that's so good-" you moan, trying desperately to control the volume of your voice as you shake with pleasure. "don't fucking cum, Miller." you order, hand falling to his throat. he moans, nodding. 

"please," he says it quietly; you see the hunger, that darkness in his eyes as he strains. you gasp, a wave hitting you as he begs, "please, cum for me, pretty girl." he groans, "wanna feel it. c'mon-" 

you hit your orgasm with a gasp and a low, drawn out moan. it rolls over you in waves, pulsing, dragging you into the current and spitting you, heaving, back into the universe. he's pressed his hand over your mouth; a desperate plea to remain undiscovered, as your hand falls similarly to his mouth from his throat.

you feel his lips form your name under your fingers; it feels like home. 

his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim; he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss Joel's neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers fly up; too weak of desire, you let him grip the side of your thigh. "shit," he mutters, "darlin', I'm close-" 

shaking your head, you stare at him, "didn't tell you you could cum yet, did I?" 

the taste of his own medicine looks divine upon his face; the graying facial hair glinting in the rainy light outside, his thick neck on display again. he growls and it stirs something delicious within you. 

you feel your grip on reality - on your control, on him - start to loosen as your thrusts become sloppy. "Joel," you whine looking into his eyes. it's as if he snaps. 

he’s surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arm rising to your waist to hold you as you move. this position hits the perfect spot inside you that you have to bite hard on his good shoulder to avoid screaming in ecstasy. 

the rain washes away the sound of skin against skin but you feel it, you feel him everywhere. 

"I'm close," he mutters. your eyes are screwed shut; you jolt when you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing figure-eights on your clit and you nearly writhe in his hold, whispering, "don't- you'll hurt yourself."

"don't fuckin' care." he almost growls, beginning to drive up into you, tilting until your toes curl and your whole body shakes. "jus' wanna cum with you. can I cum with you, baby?" 

his voice is so desperate your eyes nearly roll back. you move your hips, chasing the high that you can feel coming. you clench, feeling the familiar feeling creeping on you, your cunt puffy and spent; hungry. his hand grips tight on the junction of your leg and hip, fingers squeezing the sides of your ass as he pulls you down onto him, grunting with his eyes closed. 

he looks angelic like this, flushed and wide-eyes as he bites his lip. your eyes meet his and you nod, "cum with me, Joel, yes-" 

you shake as you hit your high, legs giving out a bit as you pulse and clench around his cock. it immediately makes him cum, thrusting into you and shooting hot spurts deep inside you, his moan desperate and full of pleasure. "could stay with you forever," he says, voice hollow and spent, warm and tired as he pushes his length impossibly deeper into you, sending you keening. your thighs quiver, feeling the cum that leaks from you drip onto his jeans; your heart stops, a wash of flattery over you suddenly as you register his words. "keep you with me forever." 

your heart is suddenly pounding, chest heaving, eyes blissful. you stay, arms on him as his good arm stays around you, pulling your weight on top of him. his cock still throbs gently inside you as you press your cheek against his chest. 

keep you with me forever. you sigh at the thought, blinking syrupy, pressing a kiss over his chest.  

you open your mouth; in fact, the sentiment is there, unspoken and unadmitted but still lingering like clouds and sunsets and uncertainty and fear in your mind. something like love. 

but he cuts you off before you can even speak, "I'm sorry," he mumbles, lips brushing against your hairline, "I wanted tonight to be perfect. I'm sorry I got hurt, 'n I'm sorry I didn't tell ya." 

you swallow back your words, nodding, "Joel, I understand. tell me next time." 

he nods, "jus' gotta stop fucking this up." he says, voice slightly anxious. furrowing your brows, you sit up slightly; you both wince at your sore bodies, but you don't mind. frowning, you take in the melancholy that's settled now that the haze of lust as subsided. this isn't normal; trying to navigate any kind of relationship itself is difficult, let alone your rocky start with each other - god forbid you have rough patches, misunderstandings.

Joel has shown his capacity to mature, to work on himself, and you wouldn't dare write that off as nothing. you know it isn't - you know just a few of the many things Joel has seen in his time. you will learn when he is ready, but for now you wait, patient. 

"hey," you say softly, guiding his cheek in your palm. he looks at you with large eyes as you shake your head, "you care about me" you affirm. 

he nods with no hesitation, "yes, I do. I-" he cuts himself off, looking away before taking a breath, "jus' don't deserve you, s'all." 

you shrug, "well, I care about you too. that's what matters. everything else, we're just..." you purse your lips with a small smile, giddy at the thought of his words earlier; in this life, finding any kind of happiness is wholly unrealistic and more than a privilege. and yet, you have this man in front of you; a protector, a friend, a lover - things are fucked up, yes, but there isn't anything in this world that isn't. 

perhaps it's time to start maturing; perhaps it's time to start seeing things for what they are. 

"figuring it out?" he offers, looking almost hopeful. you nod; he kisses you fully, lips tasting a faint hint of your arousal from earlier. 

he hums as his hand trails over your back, up your neck. "your hair's still wet." he observes against your lips, hand carding through the strands. you nod bashfully, "was pouring out earlier." you remind him. 

he hums, "still is." he observes, chin jutting to the window. you look on, taking in the tears that slide down the panes violently; a cry from the world, though your heart is filled with something much more joyous. "s'ppose it's too late to take you to get drinks, then?" he suggests, giving you a look. you look at him wildly, "you're injured, Joel." 

he sighs, "don't matter, like I said." he argues. you huff, shaking your head, "I heard you were being babied all day, and now you want to walk down into town in the torrential downpour?" 

he stiffens, lifting a brow; you flush when you feel his semi-hard cock warm inside you. "who the hell said I was bein' a baby?" he says; you laugh. he laughs, too. it's nice. 

shaking your head, you sigh. "we'll wait until you feel better, Joel. then you can take me for as many drinks as you'd like." 

he sighs, "get'ya all the liquor left in this place if I can help it." he mutters, kissing your hairline again, "I'm sorry, again." 

you kiss his lips, knowing he means it. "I know you are." you whisper back, a hand soothing over him. his eyes are a deep honey, searching yours with vulnerability; you're reminded of his words from just moments ago and flush. 

Joel speaks up again first. "would you-" he swallows thickly, and you turn to watch him, still bathing in the afterglow of two orgasms, his cock still snug within you. his good hand slides over your spine, "would you stay the night?" he asks, eyes vulnerable, "y'can borrow some clothes." he offers, looking over your soaked dress hopefully. 

something flutters in your stomach and you nod, "sure, I'd like that." 

he's never invited you explicitly like this; you smile gently, deciding not to tease him for the blush upon your cheeks. you watch the curve of his nose, the curve of his jawline as he suppresses a bashful grin - you flicker with a stir of arousal. "can I use your shower?" you ask, eyes flickering to the bathroom that connects to his room. clearing his throat, he nods. "'course." 

you purse your lips, "can you get in the shower with your shoulder like that?" you ask; his brow lifts in interest, some kind of arousal swirling in the depths of his eyes. "for a piece of this ass?" he mutters, hand groping your left cheek hungrily, "I can at least try." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the newly restored desire that grows between your thighs, smirking. "I should say you should take me to dinner first." 

he chuckles, "ship's sailed on that, I think." he slaps your ass, watching with sharp eyes as the flesh bounces with the impact. "I'll make y'dinner when I'm healed, though." 

you hum against his lips, sliding off of him and gasping at the feeling of his cum slipping between your thighs. you yelp lightly, grinning as you rise up and he slaps your ass again. "help clean me up first," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his nose, "then I'll consider it." 

.

follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Buttons

The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine. 

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe. 

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

[jobean12-blog]

Helping Hands

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 704

Summary: Joel's working on fixing something that you'll love but as soon as you come to see what it is he gets distracted...in the best way.

Author's Note: This is just 700 words of pure indulgence because these small moments are everything for me and if I had Joel I wouldn't want his hands anywhere but on me all the time and I love when two people just can't get enough of each other and just the smallest touch is everything. Anyway hehe thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Soft and sweet fluffy fluff

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“What are you working on?”

Joel’s head whips up at the sound of your voice and he blinks, clearly pulled from concentration.

“What’s that darlin’?” he asks, his attention now completely focused on you.

His gaze wanders slowly down your body and he leans back in the chair, smoothing his large hands over his spread thighs.

With a gentle smile you walk to the table and lean your hip against the edge.

“I was wondering what you were up to.”

“Oh,” he says with a lopsided smile. “I found this old record player and I was going to try to get it to work again but it’s a mess.”  

Your face brightens at the thought of hearing music.

“I know,” he says with understanding. “I’ll do my best.”

You lean in and kiss his scruffy cheek and with your lips still pressed to his skin he turns his head and finds your mouth, whispering softly, “wanna help?”

“Me?” you ask as you pull away slightly. “Are you sure? I have no idea how to use tools or anything.”

Laugh lines appear around his eyes and then he pats his big, thick thigh.

“Get over here.”

You drag your teeth over your bottom lip and move around him to climb onto his thigh. You can feel the rough material of his jeans on your skin and every flex of his muscle.

With a shaky inhale you scoot back and get comfortable.

He wraps his left arm around your waist and secures you against his chest.

“Ok hold this,” he instructs before pointing to the needle on the record player.

He then grabs the screw driver and begins unscrewing something with his right hand. When it pops off he sets it down and studies the machine.

“Hmm…” he muses. “We might need parts…good thing I have this old thing.”

He leans forward to grab the old radio on the table. The warmth and weight of his body is so welcoming that you let out a contented sigh and snuggle closer.

“Where did you get that?” you ask, turning your head to find him only a breath away, his dark brown eyes trained on your mouth.

The arm wrapped around your belly flexes and his large hand splays along your skin.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” you murmur. “I want this thing fixed.”

“Thought that’s what we were doin’ angel,” he smirks.

“If you keep this up it’ll never get fixed.”

“Keep what up?” he asks with feigned innocence even as his hand slowly slides along the curve of your body.

You melt against him as warmth spreads across your skin.

“Joel,” you breathe out.

“It’ll get fixed darlin’…but it’s hard to concentrate now.”

“Well that’s your fault,” you whisper. “You asked for help.”

His calloused fingertips ghost over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then find your neck, trailing along the delicate skin until he’s pressing them under your chin and tilting your face closer.

“Joel,” you hum with one last weak attempted warning as your eyelids flutter closed.

“Hm?” he grunts as he brushes his lips to yours.

“Thought you wanted help.”

He pulls back and traces his thumb over your lips.

“This is helping.”

His hand slides to the back of your neck and wraps around it before he tugs you down to his mouth.

Your own hand smooths up and over his chest and your fingers curl into his hair, giving it a sharp tug.

“Angel,” he growls.

He stands in one swift motion and takes you with him, gently letting you slide down his body until your feet hit the ground, his mouth still on yours.

With sure steps he walks you backward toward the wall and pins you there with his large frame.

You let out a moan of his name and reach your fingers under his shirt to feel his skin.

He rests his hands on either side of your face, sweeping his thumbs softly over your closed eyes.

“I promise,” he starts on a murmur before kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll get it fixed.”

His lips are just a breath away, his nose lightly brushing yours…” just need you first darlin.’ Please.”

@lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814

[covetyou]

my bright future's behind me

joel miller x f!reader

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), anal sex, rimming, anal douching*, oil as lube, oral (f receiving), mild spanking, masturbation (f), praise kink, brief sex toys mention, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.8k chapter summary: The line between wanting to help your father and wanting to see Joel again blurs, and you find yourself at a familiar door asking for help. You know what's in store for you this time... don't you?

*NO DETAIL reader is given brief instruction on how to do it, and agrees to. no description of the actual event.

A/N: it's lengthier than I intened, but I really enjoyed writing about this in detail okay, let a girl have some fun. Like yeah, our reader is living in a hellish apocalyptic society and is an anal virgin going to a drug dealer to pay a debt with some serious dubcon vibes, but that man is going to be soft and gentle (ish?) af with her butthole and make her enjoy the hell out of it, okay? okay. let's go.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: anything but(t) by Hozier dividers: @saradika

Five weeks ago, heavy feet had carried you away from Joel's door in a daze.

You'd spent the first day waiting for your fathers pain medication to kick in. You spent the next getting him up and ready to go find work again. It was like watching a newborn deer finding its first footing; once he was up, a few stumbles and he was off, throwing himself back into work. He'd even picked up his medication himself at the end of the second week - you'd offered to go for him, but he declined. You deserved the rest, he'd said.

He'd come back, pills in hand, proclaiming how much of a "nice man" Joel Miller was. You didn't disagree.

You spent that night, fingers buried in yourself, whispering Joel's name into the dark as you clenched around fingers too small to feel satisfying.

Every night since then you remembered the look of Joel through the haze of the orgasm he'd slapped out of you. The weight of his cock, glistening head leaking precum as he rutted against you, the pressure of being filled over and over. His face, mouth agape, eyes glued to where you joined, mesmerized.

You came every time, whether it was to the thought of the first push of his cock into you, the firm, repetitive slap of his hand against your bare pussy, or his cum spattering across your naked body.

You didn't just grind pillows any more. Not all the time anyway. You bit into them, hard, stifling moans that you didn't dare let echo around the bare confines of your room. You made yourself writhe in sheets on a bed that felt too small, fingers stuffed to the knuckle, unable to reach the depths you craved. You'd even tried spanking yourself, desperate to chase that zinging feeling he'd given your pussy that day.

Weeks had gone by, and you'd spent every one using your own hands to chase the feeling of Joel Miller between your legs.

And now, an opportunity to grab those feelings presented to you all over again and, although your father was in pain, a part of you you'd kept hidden for weeks was glad for it. Five weeks to the day, and you were stood outside of Joel's apartment once again.

You knew what to expect now, you thought. You'd done this before, it was familiar. He was familiar. You knew how he moved, the sound of his voice, the look on his face when he came.

So, arm raised and feeling braver than you had any right to feel, you knock on Joel Miller's door for the second time.

A moment passes. Then another. You hear nothing beyond the door, and think about turning to leave, when there's a sudden click of the latch and the door flies open.

You'd psyched yourself up all day, but standing here you come to the stark realization that you're not ready to see him again at all. You shrink at the expanse of him.

His eyebrows raise as he leans toward the door frame. His dark eyes look you up and down and you stand there like an idiot, staring at him like you've never seen a man before.

"Can't say I expected to see you again so soon," he says, ticking his head to the side, inviting you in.

You walk past him, he doesn't move from the door way again, and you squeeze into his home.

The door snaps shut behind him, his feet thudding on the floor as he walks up behind you. You stay facing into his living room, staring at a deep scratch on the dining table he'd placed his whisky glass on five weeks ago.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart," he says, and you can hear the shit eating grin in his voice. He knew it was a stupid question. There was no other reason why you'd be here.

"My dad. He needs more. He's bad again and we can't..." you trail off, your poverty unspoken but understood.

Your eyes are locked on the table, you're trying not to clench your hands into fists. You weren't nervous this morning when you'd made up your mind, and now, trapped in this room with him your blood hummed with nerves, anticipation, fear, arousal. It was a cocktail you weren't familiar with and it was making you lightheaded.

Joel's footsteps thud again and you hear the nearby open and close of a cupboard door. He rounds back, appearing in front of you holding another familiar packet. He shakes it and you hear the rattle of pills.

"You ain't got any debt to pay off this time, sweetheart. You can take these right now and owe me... or you can pay me off right now."

You were waiting for this, but even so his offer makes your breath stop and your heart pound. You weren't just expecting it, you were wanting it, and you had a feeling he knew and his offer just proved that. He may as well have said do you want me or not. Your answer would be the same.

"What'll it be?" he says, extending the pill packet out with two thick fingers.

You take a deep breath. "I can... I can do right now. I-if that's okay?"

You can practically see the gotcha flash across his eyes.

"S'more than okay, sweetheart," he says, pocketing the pills with a smirk and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"You know the drill - show me."

You begin to undress for him, stripping off your jacket and simple dress you'd worn to accommodate the dwindling summer heat. You'd worn your best underwear this time, the black cotton bra, faded to dark grey over the years, actually lifted you and showed off the valley between your tits. Equally faded black panties sat high over your hips.

He watches you like someone would have watched a boring TV show years ago - almost disinterested, but watching anyway. You remove your bra, freeing your breasts and dropping it to the floor. Hands come to your hips to shimmy your panties down your legs when he suddenly moves toward you. You stop immediately. He walks past you, around you, circling like a vulture, assessing your nearly bare body. He's so close you can feel the heat radiate off of him, but he doesn't lay a finger on you.

He completes another half circle, stopping when he's directly behind you. He can see the way the skant fabric of your panties parts the cleft of your ass.

"Take 'em off," his deep voice comes from behind you, closer than you'd expected.

You bend - perhaps more than you usually would - and pull your panties down your legs, pulling them past your knees and stepping out of them as you rise.

Warm hands smooth down the plush of your hips and to the swell of your ass, gripping and lifting your cheeks briefly before releasing. Both hands smack back onto your ass before he speaks again.

"It's a damn shame I never got to do this last time."

He kneads your ass some more, the feel of his massive hands foreign, all things considered. He'd touched you in ways no one ever had, in ways that had you reeling and dreaming of them still weeks later, and yet he had barely ever really touched you. He touched your thighs and your wet cunt, he'd tasted you and been inside you, but his hands had barely ventured further than that. You were unkissed, relatively untouched, and totally, utterly, fucked.

You steady yourself just as he withdraws, leaving your skin burning for him to touch you again.

"C'mon, bedroom. Got somethin' for you." You hear a smirk in his voice. You don't think the grin has left his face since you got here.

Once in his room, he pulls open a drawer on the large dresser. You peer inside. Colorful shapes fill it - you know these things, you've seen them before, but not in a long time. The last you'd seen being your own as you frantically stuffed underwear into a bag, ready to leave your home during the first evacuation at the end of the world.

The man is a god damned a sex toy collector.

"Why do you have all that?" Fuck. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. If there's anything you shouldn't do, it's question a strange man about his sex toy collection.

He leans toward you, whispering in mock conspiracy, "I use 'em on sweet girls who come to see me when they can't pay."

He pulls out an unfamiliar object. You had seen the other things in the drawer before, but you'd never seen this.

"You know what this is?"

It looks like a fucking mutant turkey baster.

You shake your head.

"It's an anal douche, sweetheart." He trails a finger down your arm, the skin pimpling in its wake.

"You never seen one before, let alone used one, huh?"

You shake your head again. Your body immediately set on fire with the mention of it. He'd ghosted a finger over your asshole last time and promised you that he'd have it next time. Now, here you were. Next time. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off from those exact words, if you hadn't tried touching yourself in the same way, going further and breaching yourself with a spit slicked finger, stopping barely a fingernail in, embarrassed even by yourself in the dark.

"You're gonna fill that up. Put that nozzle right in your pretty little asshole. Squeeze," he says softly, squeezing your arm. "Hold it in there for a little bit, and then you go push it out. Okay?"

You stare at him in dumbfounded silence - you'd never heard of this before and felt naive. One hand comes up and clasps your jaw, snapping your mouth shut, as he forces your head into a nod. He hands you the douche, and you take it. It's soft, but the nozzle is hard and unyielding.

"Good. Now you're gonna do that till the water runs clear, you got that? Don't want no messes." He moves to your side, looking between your face and your ass. Your face heats as his calloused hand smooths over your ass, giving another light slap to one of your cheeks.

You don't know what makes you do it, but you start talking. Rambling. Maybe panic at the unfamiliar had taken over, the nerves too much to bare, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"Or we could do the same as last time! I could even -" he cuts you off.

"You'll do this. Don't want anythin' else. Way I see it, I'm the one callin' the shots here. Of course, if you'd like me to do it for you..."

"What?!" you yelp in shock, your embarassement growing threefold. "No, no, please I-"

A dark laugh escapes his lips, he was fucking with you. "Didn't think so. Now, go on. You don't want to make a mess, do you?" You feel your cheeks heat with the preemptive embarrassment of that happening.

"I-I'll do it," you stutter, nodding your head once and looking down at your feet, willing the heat in your face to go away. You wanted what this led to, at least you thought you did. You'd thought about it enough, at least.

A kiss presses into your hair, the unfamiliar action melting your bones, sending you soaring. "Good girl."

A slap to your ass brings you back into the room.

"Get to it then, sweetheart. I'll be waiting outside. I want you clean, so no rushing."

The warmth of him moves away from you, back into the living room. You follow, watching, and he gestures to a partially open door next to his bedroom. You didn't pay attention to it last time, fear and tunnel vision blinding you to most of the details of his home.

You enter, close the door behind you, and take a shaky breath as you lean against the cool door.

You can do this. You just hope to fuck he doesn't hear a thing.

Joel is lounging on his couch reading a worn book when you exit the bathroom 15 minutes later.

"All good?" he says, not bothering to look up.

"Mhm," you nod. You didn't trust yourself with words and honestly, you had no real clue. You'd never done any of this before. You'd had thoughts, sure, but you were not familiar with any of it in practice.

He's up and moving toward you in an instant, the book thrown to his dining table as he passes it. You think you can see a growing hardness in his pants as he walks.

He looms over you, tracing gentle shapes over the bare skin of your upper arm, watching your nipples harden and a shudder run down your spine.

"Let's get you someplace more comfortable," he says with a softness to his voice that doesn't meet his eyes. His eyes are dark and molten.

He leads you back to his room and deposits you at the end of his bed once again. You stand awkwardly, hands and feet flexed in an attempt to push away your nerves. If Joel notices, he doesn't say anything.

"I've never-" you start.

"Oh, I know you've never had anything back here," he says, coming to stroke down your back and over the curve of your backside. "If you did you wouldn'ta jumped away from me last time."

Any humiliation that was bubbling beneath the surface floats away as he strokes gently over your hips and ass. The roughness of his hands against your soft skin makes your pussy thrum. If you were being honest, you'd turned up to his door wet and ready. By this point you were positively dripping.

"Have you ever..." you say breathlessly, closing your eyes. He laughs, it's raspy and deep, the sound of it sending another trickle from your pussy despite the anxious feeling in your belly.

"You ain't even the first I've ass fucked this week, sweetheart."

With that, he wordlessly moves you into place, turning you to face his bed, legs slightly parted. A hand comes between your shoulders to he push you down, making you hinge at the hips to bend over. Joel steps back, leaving you there nude, bent over his bed, and alone.

"Spread yourself for me."

You let out a shaky breath you didn't realised you'd been holding and reach behind you, gripping one plush ass cheek in each hand as you spread yourself for him. He approaches again, only to grip the meat of your ass with his massive hands to spread you wider, exposing both your holes completely to his gaze.

You slam your hands down on the bedsheets to steady yourself, the sound of blood rushing through your ears as you think of how much he's staring and where he's staring. Someone didn't tell your pussy this was meant to be embarrassing though, and you feel your heartbeat in your cunt.

Strong hands knead at you, pulling you apart and pressing you together over and over. You can hear Joel's breath get deeper behind you, enjoying the sight of your ass being manhandled.

Turning, you look around and up at him. His eyes are transfixed, and he's nodding gently, tilting his head from side to side as he drinks you in from every possible angle.

"Fuck yeah," he murmurs, looking up at you as he notices your stare. "Beautiful ass, sweetheart. You gonna let me play with it?"

You already want to moan. As if you fucking wouldn't let him play with it now.

You bite your lip and nod at him.

"Ain't I lucky," he grins, before crouching behind you. You feel a nip of his teeth on your ass cheek, then the same on the other. Your breath catches when you feel his tongue dip down into your folds, catching your clit and swiping upwards through the wetness of your pussy, pushing in briefly to taste you. He does it again, and again, and again. You're moaning softly with each swipe, his tongue moving closer to your ass with each lick. You're pouting, trying not to whine, when he pulls away just before he touches your tight ring.

"Someone's enjoying this," he mutters into your ass, soft lips placing another kiss to your cheek as he circles a finger around your dripping cunt.

Fuck yes I am.

You hear him laugh behind you, the puff of air from his nose fluttering across your spread holes. Your eyes go wide, realizing you'd been so lost in it all that you'd said it out loud.

He moves away from you completely, reaching to drag pillows down his bed. A tap to your ass prompts you to move.

"Get comfortable, sweetheart, might be a while."

Draping yourself over his pillows, you get to your knees and rest your forearms on the bed. He's moving around behind you when you duck your head lightly, trying to be discreet as you breathe in the rich scent of him from his pillow. The smell of him fills your lungs, leaving no space for nervousness now.

The bed shifts as Joel climbs on behind you, a hand stroking up your thigh. You can't help but sigh. You were really enjoying this - your dad and your 'reason' for coming here long forgotten.

Hands pull you apart once again, and he's back to kissing across both your cheeks. He returns to where he's spread you, and you feel the scruff on his chin scratch against your ass, another huff of his breath, and then a warm, wet tongue is finally licking over your asshole.

Your toes curl as he licks you in gentle circles, tasting you. You'd never felt anything like it, the sensation strange and not exactly as exhilarating as you were expecting. And then he moans and you finally get it.

"Oh."

He wiggles his tongue gently into your tight hole, not quite breaching you but adding a pressure that has you pushing back into him slightly, willing him on. A broad lick and a kiss to your hole later and he's pulling away again. He keeps pulling away but you're desperate for him to continue.

"Good girl. Stay nice and relaxed just like that for me, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper into his pillow.

"Just a little longer, sweetheart," he says, stroking a finger up and down over your asshole.

There's a small snick behind you, and the finger stroking you pulls your cheek to the side.

A dribble of something cold, thick, and wet trickles over your asshole, and drips down to your cunt. You flinch and wiggle at the feeling, but a hand clamps down around your calf, keeping you in place.

"What's that," you gasp.

Hand on your calf keeping you steady, you hear another snick behind you. A finger traces the trail the substance took, up from your pussy, spreading the slickness of it around as he gets to your tight hole.

"Cooking oil. Ain't no lube in the fuckin' apocalypse and I don't wanna go in dry. Tear my dick straight off, and I quite like you havin' two holes instead of just one."

The tip of his thick finger, slick with oil, pushes into your asshole. You take a deep breath and the pressure gives way, allowing his finger to breach you. The hand on your calf releases, and traces up to your ass, squeezing.

This is as much as you'd ever managed with yourself, but with Joel doing it, it feels so much more. The tip of one of his fingers so much thicker than yours, and the oil easing his way so much better than your spit slicked finger.

He wiggles and swirls the finger just inside your hole, and you whimper, toes clenching. This is nothing like his tongue. Something like this shouldn't feel so good, none of it should, but the embarassment is long gone and all you want is more.

The finger pulls from you before he can give you what you want, and you feel more oil being poured onto you.

You arch your back, hoping he'll go right back to what he was doing, and he does. Finger to your asshole, he circles gently once, before pushing in again, not stopping at one knuckle this time.

"Nnngh," you moan, as his finger settles deep into you.

"All the way in all in one, good fuckin' girl."

He pulls out half way before pushing back in, fingering your ass with his index finger and holding you open with the other hand so he can get a clear look at your ass taking his finger.

There's no stretch, just a fullness, and goosebumps prickling over you as he moves in and out. You settle into it after a few more pumps, skin calming as you do.

"How's that feel?" he says. He must have seen you relax back down into his pillows, or felt it as his finger moved inside you more easily.

"S'good," you mumble into his pillow.

"You like my finger in your ass?"

"Mm," you moan, as he picks up the pace, fucking you a little harder with his thick digit.

"Let's get another in you, huh? Sweet pussy would like that too, I can see her twitchin'."

He begins to curl his finger, swirling it around and stretching against your hole. Your skin prickles again and you let out a whine, the fullness and added stretch feeling so good.

The finger retreats again but it's quickly replaced with the feeling of two pushing into your ass, one slipping in just before the second starts to spread your hole further than ever.

You groan deep and low, the sound being pulled from your chest without warning. When he's down to the knuckles of his fist, he holds there, twisting and scissoring them deep in you.

You're breathing heavy, whimpering, as Joel plays with your asshole. At one point you hear the snick of the bottle again and feel his fingers withdraw half way before spreading, creating a valley between them and spreading your asshole open for him, when a drizzle of oil is poured onto them. His spread fingers funnel the oil into your ass, and he pushes them back deep into your needy hole.

Over and over, he pulls his fingers completely from you before punching them in quickly, giving you no time to recover as he watches your hole barely wink closed each time.

"Nice and oiled up now, sweetheart. Just a little more. Wanna see somethin'."

His voice is thick and heavy, loving watching the way your ass is taking his fingers, listening to the whimpers and moans you try to hold back.

He's not touched himself, but you can tell he's rock solid and desperate just from touching you. You lick your lips at the thought of his cock, remembering the faint taste of him he'd smeared on your mouth weeks ago, and you feel more slick drip from you.

It was funny, if you thought about it. The attention to your cunt last time such a stark contrast to the neglect it was receiving now. You didn't mind.

Slicked fingers speed up in your asshole, really fucking you now, your ass jiggling with each thrust of his hand. You let out a high pitched whine, and he fucks you through it, before burying his two digits deep in your ass. He keeps pushing against you, never ending pressure making him feel deeper and deeper than he is. As if reading your mind, his other hand comes down to swipe drips of oil across your clit, using the tips of his fingers to rub in soft circles.

He keeps the pressure in your ass, releasing and pushing rhythmically so it feels like he's fucking you impossibly deep. Another wave of goosebumps cascades over you, and you feel your neglected cunt tremble.

"Joel I - fuck - I'm gonna come. Please, I-" you gasp, holding onto the pillow tighter with one hand but scrambling frantically with the other, not knowing what to do. The pressure is so deep, so foreign, but so incredible. You've never felt like this.

"Fuuuck yeah," he grunts from behind you, pushing his fingers deep in you again. Instead of releasing them, he starts shaking his fist, fingers still buried in your tight asshole. His other hand swipes over your clit in tandem, and you feel it.

The crashing wave of it comes for you, and there's no running. You're consumed by him; nothing but the scent of him in your lungs, and his fingers deep inside you. Moans that only he has ever pulled from you. Nothing else exists. The world falling to shit, caring for your ailing father, the years of loneliness at the end of the world. Gone - chewed up and spit out and gone, all at the hands of Joel Miller.

Before you know it, your thighs and cunt are twitching as an orgasm batters into you, knocking the air out of you with a scream you can't give sound to.

"Comin' from bein' ass fucked, thatta girl. Filthy fuckin' girl," he pulls his fingers from your ass as you still twitch, riding through your orgasm totally empty. A slicked up hand slaps your buttcheek, sending another aftershock through you.

Joel rises to his knees and you hear the tell tale clatter of his buckle through the white noise in your head - you'd long forgotten you were nude and he was not.

You look around to see him stroking his thick cock with an oily hand. You whine, you could come again just from watching. Every nerve in your body is on absolute fire.

He slides his slick hard length up your ass, rutting himself against your crack.

"I'm fucking one of your holes today, sweetheart. Don't have to be this one though, but I'd like it to be."

"I want it," you moan without hesitation.

"That's a good girl," he says, sliding his cock between your cheeks a little quicker. "You give me what I want, and I give you what you want."

His solid cock pulls away from you, and he rests a hand on your lower back, pushing down on you gently to hold you still. You feel the tip of his cock drag down through the slick of your pussy before he swipes back upward toward your ass.

Knuckles drag across your ass as he pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock in line with your hole. A firm press of his thumb to the tip of his cock, and your asshole gives way, letting him slip in.

"Would you look at that," he says, before pulling his thick tip out of your ass. You immediately feel more oil drizzle into your hole, still opened from his slicked head breaching you.

He pushes back in, even easier than before. The stretch of it sends the most ferocious wave of goosebumps over you yet, drawing a babbling moan out of you.

"Jus' look at that," he groans, eyes locked on his cock fucking into your asshole. He fucks his tip in and out of you for a moment, your moans dying down as you adjust to the feeling, before his hips push forward again.

"Fuck, I could just slip all the way in sweetheart," he says, pushing deeper into you. "All the way in." As he says it, he slips his cock further into you with ease, sliding down impossibly far in one smooth thrust.

He stills. You feel so full, so stretched, but you don't feel the weight of his balls against you, or the heat of his warm belly. There must be more to go, but this is already so much. You whimper, almost begging him to pull out, when a hand slips around between your legs and starts lightly caressing your pussy.

"If you want more you're gonna have to ask for it."

"P-please, Joel. I want more."

Finally, he pushes all the way in, his entire dick encased in your oiled heat. He throws his head back with a groan, drowning out your whimpers as he bottoms out, grabbing both of your hips to steady himself.

"Fuuuck."

There's so much of him in you, you try to wiggle forward to relieve the pressure, even with both his hands clamped on your hips.

"Hold still," he shushes you. "Hold still and take it."

You'd do anything he told you right now. You quieten and let him push into you more, his dick twitching in your ass sending a jolt through you. You can feel his balls on your cunt, slicked up from your pussy and the oil covering you.

"Hold that slutty little hole open for me," he growls.

There is no hesitation in you as you reach back with both hands to spread your cheeks for him. Your grip is hindered by the oil, but you hold firmly and pull, spreading yourself and allowing him even deeper into your ass. He was quickly making being spread for him your favorite thing in the world.

He pulls out, leaving just the tip in you once again, before fucking all the way back in in one motion, pushing the air out of you when his pelvis meets your thighs.

Somehow you still hold yourself open, moaning and rocking your hips, and he fucks into you, his large hands on you pulling you toward his cock with each thrust.

Joel's breathing is heavy as he fucks into your ass, grunting softly every so often. He shuffles his legs as they slip away, unable to get purchase on his sheets in the constraints of his jeans.

They slip again and he slams into you, hard, with a growl.

"Fuck," he grunts in frustration and you hear the frantic shuffle of fabric as he pulls his pants down his thighs, his dick still buried in your ass. His belt clatters again, and he quickly pulls out of you. The bed rocks as he moves to discard his jeans, before he climbs back behind you, placing his feet either side of your knees. You try to look around in confusion, but then he lifts your hips, lines himself up, and in one smooth move, he's pushing his entire cock down into you.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, high pitched and desperate.

You let out a keening high pitched scream as he pulls out and slams into you again, and then he's fucking you in earnest.

He's like an animal, grunting as he ruts into you, fucking his cock down deep into you so far you swear you can feel your organs shift.

"That's it, she's likin' it now, huh. She's fuckin' likin' it now," he snarls.

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chant with each gasping breath.

Your hands slap down onto the bed, white knuckle gripping the sheets as he pounds into your asshole from above.

"Ohhhh, yes - fuck - yeeaaahhhh," you groan. You can't tell if you're coming, it feels so good that you could be but it doesn't feel the same. You have definitely never felt this before.

"Takin' it so - fuck - fuckin' well, sweetheart," he gasps. "So. fuckin'. well."

He speeds up, pounding faster and faster, his balls smacking against the meat of your ass.

"Gonna come in this fuckin' asshole. Gonna get my cum all up in you."

"Please," you don't know what you're begging for, but his thrusts accelerate and that might just be it. You're screaming around him, his hips stutter, slamming into you. Joel's thighs quiver with the force of his orgasm, rattling the entire bed as he shakes and unloads deep into your ass.

You've deafened yourself. You've maybe came, you can't tell. All you know is your body is on fire and your mouth is dry. You could sob and you don't know anything, you just know it feels so good and so much.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you lie there, face down, in a daze.

Joel lowers his shaking knees to the bed, still buried in your ass. His grip on your hips relaxes, fingers unconciously soothing you in gentle circles. His breath is heavy, and for a moment you feel him lean over your spent body to press a kiss to your back, before he retreats, pulling out of you and leaving your asshole still full of him.

You don't know how long you're there, ass still in the air, head floating through a million different universes, too fucked out to care you're still naked on Joel's bed.

"C'mon, sweetheart," says Joel, his voice gruff from heavy breathing. "Gotta get you home." You feel his oily hand softly pat you on the thigh, bringing you back to reality.

There's a thump as your clothes hit the bed, and you look around to see him for the first time since he put his dick in your ass. He's fully dressed again already, running a hand through his graying hair, sweat patches blooming on his t-shirt.

You nod at him and sit up - the floaty feeling has escaped your head and is buzzing all through your veins, creating a distance between you and your body. You mindlessly dress yourself, and he watches.

When you stand, your legs are somehow steadier than last time, and you don't even stumble as you pull your panties up the rest of the way.

Joel guides you out of his home, no offer of a hand or a touch to steady you. You slide your feet into abandoned shoes when he unlatches the door and pulls it open. Fishing around in his jean pocket, he pulls out the packet of pills, holding it out for you to take.

You thank him, taking the pills and walking from his apartment. You don't turn, intending to walk away from him before he can close the door on you again.

"I'll make you a deal," he calls out to you. You stop in your tracks. "You keep comin' to collect for your daddy and I'll give you those pills for free."

You frown and turn to look at him. He's standing in the doorway with his arms crossed like you'd just arrived. "That's not free. I won't whore myself for pills."

He lets out a wry laugh, "You already are, sweetheart."

Shaking his head, he closes the door on you once again, leaving you alone in the hallway.

And he still hasn't kissed you.

next part

tag list: @jupiter-soups

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 39: Returning

Your family comes back to Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-38 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Aftermath of canon-typical violence, including graphic depiction of injury. Mention of past sexual assault, not described. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 10k

A/N: We are through the spoiler-y portion now and you're all OK to read from here if you just want to see how the fic starts to come to a close. There is no more overlap with TLOU 2.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next chapter

May, 2017 

“Mama!” 

Savvy’s voice was shrill, panicked. That scared you more than getting thrown off a horse had and your head shot up to make sure nothing had happened to her in the few seconds you’d been flying through the air and getting your bearings after hitting the ground with a thud. 

But your daughter was fine, just watching you from her place on the other side of the fence posts as you worked to break the feral horse you’d taken just a few weeks earlier. She was at the hardest stage now, the part where you had to be on her back but she didn’t want you there. She was used to a saddle, used to pressure guiding her. She was even used to you. She just wasn’t used to giving up the last wild parts of her, even though you were offering her a life that was better for her, one with care and shelter and protection from what would kill her in the wild. 

“Are you OK?” Savvy asked, her eyes wide. You should have anticipated this. She’d never seen you get thrown off a horse before, of course it would scare her. She looked like she was about to climb the fence to come check on you, her little hands bracing on the wood post. 

“I’m alright, baby girl,” you said quickly, holding your palm out to stop her. “You stay right there, OK?” 

She nodded but frowned, her little eyebrows drawing together as she watched you get back to your feet, the book you’d told her to read so you could keep an eye on her while you worked discarded in the dirt. 

You groaned a little as you shook the tension from your limbs, cracking your neck as you did before going for the horse again. 

“Mama!” Savvy yelled again, stopping you in your tracks. You looked back at her, frowning. “Mama, no! You’re going to get hurt, you can’t go on her again, she’s scary and…” 

“Oh, baby,” you said, going and kneeling in front of her, brushing her curls back from her small face. “I have to.” 

She frowned. 

“Why?” 

You smiled at her, at the concern in her warm, brown eyes.

“Because, when you get thrown - when something gets hard - you don’t give up,” you said. “When you give up, you lose so much that you’ve already worked so hard for. It can be hard and it can be scary, but if I gave up on her now, I’m letting her down, too. When you get thrown, you have to get back up. Even when it’s hard, even when it’s scary, you get back on the horse. If you get back on the horse, it’ll be OK. Understand?” 

She watched you for a moment before giving you a firm nod. You smiled and kissed her forehead before steeling yourself and getting back on the horse.

May, 2028 

The way you rode with Joel wasn’t comfortable but you didn’t care. You needed to be close to him. 

You sat side saddle, more on his lap than anything else, precariously balanced and nestled in his arms but it was where you had to be. You pressed your face into his neck and breathed him in and even though he smelled mostly of sweat and horse it was a comfort. You closed your eyes and tried not to listen to anything, just the sound of his breathing. 

He didn’t say much, only occasionally pressing his face into your head and kissing you there and whispering you’re OK, I’ve got you every few minutes. You weren’t sure if it was for him or for you. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been riding but it had been dark for what seemed like a long time when you stopped for the night. 

“C’mon Bambi,” Tommy said gently as he helped you down. His touch still made you flinch. “It’s OK. Just me, not going to hurt you.” 

He half caught you as you more fell off the horse than dismounted and you realized just how uncomfortable your position had been as your body realigned. It just didn’t hurt as much as so many parts of you so it didn’t bother you as you rode. Joel’s hands were on you again almost immediately, pulling you against him. 

“Careful,” Joel said, guiding you to a large tree to sit in the cradle of its roots. He lowered you gently to the ground before he knelt in front of you, carefully pulling your shirt back enough to see the knife wound from Mitchum’s guard on your arm. He spent a few minutes carefully patching you up, cleaning the cut and bandaging it. You kept your injured hand tight against yourself, like you could somehow hide from Joel just how broken you were. 

When he was done, he brushed your hair back before cupping your cheek, his gaze deep and almost sad.

“I’m gonna go help Tommy set the perimeter…” 

Your eyes went wide at that, the thought of him being where you couldn’t see or feel him sending a thrill of panic up your spine. 

“Just for a few minutes,” he said, voice soothing and gentle. “Girls will be with you the whole time. You’re OK, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

You nodded and he pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there before he pulled away from you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself back against the tree, needing to have something at your back so you knew nothing could come and take you when you couldn’t see them coming. 

“Mom?” Savvy said quietly. You opened your eyes and found her standing beside you in the dark. “Can I… is it OK if I sit with you?” 

“Of course,” you said, your voice sounding and feeling oddly foreign to you, and you watched as she slowly, cautiously lowered herself down beside you. You kept your left hand clutched to your chest but held your right arm out and she gingerly fit herself against you there, nuzzling into your shoulder. You kissed the crown of her head, her curls tickling your nose and you gave her a squeeze before trailing your fingers gently through her hair. 

“Are you OK?” You asked quietly. She nodded but took a deep, shuddering breath. You relished that for a moment, that you could feel that she was alive an that she wanted to be close to you. “You can talk to me, it’s OK.” 

“I was so afraid,” she said, her voice wet. “I thought I’d never see you again and I never had the chance… You never told me about them and what… what they did.” 

“I know,” you said, continuing to hold her. 

“Why?” She asked. “I was so mad at you but it wasn’t your fault and you could have just told me and I would have understood, I would have known and I wouldn’t have been so… so…” 

Her voice trailed off and you pressed your lips to the crown of her head again, breathing in the smell of her, trying to put words to it. 

“You’re my baby,” you said eventually. “I want to protect you from everything. That’s my job, it’s the most important job I’ve ever had. I didn’t protect you then…” 

“Mom,” she said, sitting up from you a little to look you in the eye in the moonlight, like she was getting ready to fight you on it. 

“I didn’t,” you said. “I wish I could have but I wasn’t able to for a very long time. Keeping you from knowing about that stuff… I could protect you that way. I didn’t want that in your head. I still don’t.” 

She watched you for a moment before she deflated before you.

“I know you tried,” she said weakly. “I remember, the night they came… I heard the gunshots, I know you tried. I was so afraid then, too. I thought they killed you, I thought…” 

“I know,” you said softly. “And I’m sorry.” 

“I’m really sorry,” she said, tucking herself against you again. You could feel her tears dampening the cotton of your shirt. “I shouldn’t have been so mad at you, I’m so mad at myself now because I… I was just so angry because I didn’t understand and…” 

“It’s OK,” you soothed her. “Don’t be mad at yourself baby girl, please don’t. You went through so much, you survived so much all on your own that you never should have gone through. Of course you were mad, it’s right to be angry when something hurts you like that…” 

“But you didn’t hurt me,” she said, holding you tighter. “You didn’t just leave me. And I should have known that you would never have done that. I should never have been angry with you.” 

“It’s OK,” you said again. “We’ve found each other now, that’s all that matters, right?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded into you. “I love you, Mom.” 

You held her a little closer. 

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “So, so much.” 

After a few minutes, Ellie joined you, too. She didn’t seem to want to talk, something you were thankful for because you weren’t sure how well you’d hold it together. The conversation with Savvy had taken so much out of you. You needed to take care of them both, look out for them, help them through their pain and their fear but you barely had it in you to do it. It was like everything inside yourself was dedicated to keeping yourself alive and in one piece - as much as you could since they’d already cut pieces of you away. You didn’t have anything left in you to do anything else. 

Instead of asking for your words, Ellie sat silently on your left side and you cautiously, hesitantly, put your arm around her, your injured hand coming to rest against her. She put her head on your shoulder and you kissed her there before resting your cheek against her and closing your eyes. You tried to focus on the two of them, that you could feel that they were alive and that they were safe, knowing it with real certainty for the first time since Kyle had shown up at your door what felt like an eternity ago. 

When the men got back, Tommy volunteered to keep watch all night and Joel tried to protest but Tommy silenced him quickly. 

“You ain’t slept in days,” he said sharply. “Stay with your wife. I’ve got it.” 

You frowned as Joel set out his sleeping bag and helped you into it before joining you there, set a little away from where Ellie and Savvy were so there was a semblance of privacy. 

“You’re alright,” Joel said, so softly you weren’t sure that he’d even intended the words for you. “I’ve got you.” 

“You haven’t slept?” You asked quietly. You kept your injured hand between your bodies, tight against your chest while Joel’s arms were around you, the one below you tucked under your head so you could use him as a pillow, the other cradling your body against his. 

“Couldn’t,” he said, his lips brushing your forehead. “Not without you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears pinching tight in your throat. You hated that this had hurt him, too. 

“No,” he whispered. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You saved them, I would have done the same thing.” 

He held you so close and you felt him breathe, felt the subtle rattle inside of him and you knew he was crying. You wished you had it in you to soothe him and take care of him the way he was taking care of you but you couldn’t take any other pain into yourself. Instead, you cried, too, until you fell asleep in your husband’s arms. 

The next morning, you jerked awake, heart racing but you couldn’t remember why. It took you a moment to realize where you were, that you were safe and that Savvy and Ellie were safe, too. Your whole body was tense, a bowstring drawn too tight and ready to snap. 

“You’re OK,” Joel’s hand was tracing a delicate path over your spine and your face was buried in his throat. His voice was so quiet, the coo of a morning dove trees away was louder. “Never let anyone hurt you again, you’re safe.” 

You took a deep, shaky breath and he kissed the crown of your head and just held you until you felt like you could move. 

When Tommy and the girls took the horses to a nearby stream to drink and to fill up canteens before leaving camp, it left you and Joel alone - truly alone - for the first time. You were nestled into his chest as he leaned back against a tree, both of his hands on you, always touching you. 

“You can talk to me,” he said. “Don’t want you feeling like you need to protect me from any of it. I’m here for you, sweetheart. Whatever you need, it’s yours.” You swallowed hard but nodded into him. “Can I ask you for something?” 

You frowned but you didn’t stop him. He took a deep breath. 

“Can I see your hand?” He asked. You froze against him, not even breathing. He gave you a little squeeze. “I just want to see if it’s healing, baby.” 

You held it a little tighter to yourself. 

“You know?” You asked quietly. There was something that felt so wrong about Joel knowing that another man had cut part of you away for himself.

He gave you another small squeeze. 

“Made Cody pay for it,” he said. “Made ‘em pay for fuckin’ all of it.” 

You took a deep breath and sat back from him, just enough to unwind the makeshift bandage from around your hand. When it was just loose fabric over your wound, you took a shaky breath and looked at Joel. He was watching you closely, one hand gently cupping your elbow, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles over you there. You could tell he was trying to keep from showing much emotion, his face flat, but the way he was looking at you still told you everything. He was hurting, so much pain behind his eyes that it was hard not to drown in it. You tried not to think about how afraid he must have been, coming back to Jackson and finding his entire family gone from the one place left on Earth that was supposed to be safe. He’d reached you but you had to carry this with you now, for the rest of your life. Evidence of just how cruel this world was right on your hand, a constant reminder of what was waiting just outside the walls. 

“It’s OK,” he said gently and you took a deep breath before pulling the fabric back from your hand. You watched Joel’s face as you did, watched him fight to not flinch at the mangled flesh that was your hand. He took your palm gingerly in his large hands and you finally looked down at your remaining fingers, watching as Joel carefully examined you. He brushed his thumb on your palm below where the pieces of you had been cut away. 

“They burned it,” you said after a moment. “Stopped the bleeding.” 

“It’ll be OK,” he nodded and you fought to swallow around the knot that had tightened in your throat. 

“He took my wedding ring,” you said softly, feeling the tear you’d been struggling to hold back slip down your cheek anyway. 

“No,” Joel shook his head, setting your hand gently on your leg, palm up before reaching into his pocket. He pulled your ring out, still dark sticky with blood but it was yours. “I took it back. Don’t need to decide what you want to do with it now but I have it, I’ll keep it safe for you. He didn’t get to take that.” 

You looked at it for a moment, nodding slowly. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

Joel tied your bandage around your hand again, finishing just as the other three returned with the horses and the water. 

You rode with Joel again, not feeling entirely conscious or even inside your body as you did. You still kept your left hand held close to your chest. Sometimes, you were keenly aware of the movement of the horse below you. Sometimes, you heard birds singing and frogs croaking and Ellie whispering to Savvy. Sometimes, you didn’t feel or see or hear or smell anything at all, just floating in space and time where nothing could take anything more from you. 

It was during one of those times where you were existing with nothing at all that you made it back to Jackson, Joel gently pulling you back to the present by pressing a kiss to your temple and talking low and gentle in your ear. 

The walls of the town were on the horizon and you stiffened. Even with damn near half the town back at Mitchum’s camp after the fight, you knew there would be people, people who would see you like this and know what had been done to you. 

“Just gonna get you to the doctor,” he said, sensing your discomfort. “Then we’ll get you home. It’s OK.” 

“Can we just go home, Joel?” You asked, burying your face in his neck. You knew you should be stronger than this. You knew you didn’t have anywhere inside yourself to find that strength. “Please, just take me home, I want to go home.”  

He held you a little tighter, the gates casting a shadow as they opened. 

“OK sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll take you home.” 

Joel guided the horse to your house, Tommy following close behind. You could feel eyes on you but you didn’t look up from your place tucked against Joel’s skin. Your brother in law helped you off the horse and helped you stay upright until your husband could tuck you against his side and return you to the place you felt safe. 

One Week Later 

You rarely left your bedroom. 

After Carol came by the house and examined you and Joel gently bathed you, washing you clean of everything that had happened, you’d only really left your room to use the bathroom. The curtains were drawn, the air was stale, you were coated in a layer of old sweat and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

At first, Joel rarely left your side. It was two days before you were without him even for a minute. He even went with you to the bathroom, his hand on your back on the walk down the hall and hovering just outside the door before walking you back to bed again. You mostly just laid on his chest, feeling him breathe, waiting for something - anything - to pull you away. You felt it coming, some amorphous thing hanging on the edge of your consciousness. Nowhere was safe. Not even Jackson. This was proven now. Something would find you, something would take everything that mattered away. It was always coming, it had been for more than 20 years, grasping for you in the form of your infected boyfriend or the man who didn’t want to take a no or the unseen death of your daughter’s father or those who took and took and took until there was nothing left. How could you be expected to live like that? Fighting and scratching an existence for yourself only to have it ripped away again and again and again. 

Staying in bed was safer. There was less to lose then. 

The third day, Joel left for a little while. You weren’t entirely sure where, but you were only alone for a few minutes, Ellie and Savvy coming to sit with you. You just held onto them and hoped that, whatever eventually came for you would spare them instead of using them as they had been before. 

Nothing did. 

Other people came by after that, too. Just to the house, Joel stopped them in the living room, seeming to understand that you couldn’t bear being seen this way. You heard them, occasionally, from your place in the bed. Their voices would filter upstairs and so would Joel’s replies. Tommy and Maria wanted to see how everyone was doing. Olivia gave updates on the stables and asked after you. Warren came by to tell Joel the final tally of the fight with Mitchum and how so much of the trouble that had cropped up for patrols over the last few years could be blamed on his fight for power. Even Julie visited, carrying a basket of snacks with her. Joel tried to get you to eat some. You managed a few berries before curling up again. 

You knew this had to be wearing on Joel. He weathered you waking up in a panic and fighting him before you remembered where you were and who you were with. He didn’t pressure you to leave the bedroom, instead bringing food and water and tea to you. He tried to get you to read but you weren’t interested so he read to you, instead. You didn’t process much of what he said but the sound of his voice was comforting and you would curl up against him as he read, drifting in and out of consciousness as he stroked your hair or ran his hand from your shoulder to your elbow and back again. 

The only thing that told you it had been a week that you’d been back was Carol. She came in your room with a gentle smile and asked to take your bandages off to check how you were healing. You kept your good hand in Joel’s the entire time, squeezing him tight because anyone but him or the girls being that close to you made you want to crawl out of your skin. 

“This is coming along well,” she said as she looked at your hand. “Really. You’ve come a long way in just a week. You will move past this and you will be OK.” 

You weren’t sure you could say anything so you didn’t try and you heard her giving Joel some care instructions in the hall before she left. You stared at the wall. 

“Hey,” Joel said when he came back in and sat on the edge of the bed. You curled your legs into your chest and watched him. He reached out and ran one large palm over your head. “How about a shower? Doc said should be easier now…” 

You watched him for a moment, worry in his eyes. He’d been with you like this for a week now. That was a long time for someone like Joel who liked to be moving and feeling like he was accomplishing something. It was unnatural for him to be here, stagnant like this with you. You knew how this must be hurting him, how his life would be better without needing to deal with this. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you knew you needed to say. 

“I know this isn’t what you signed up for,” you looped your arms around your knees and pulling them tighter to yourself. “You don’t have to stay with me like this.” 

“Baby…” 

“I can move back to my old house,” you said, ignoring the tightness in your throat and chest as you said it, like the thought of being away from him was going to strangle you dead. “I think it’s still empty, you don’t need…” 

“No,” he cut you off, sharp and firm. 

“I know this isn’t what you want…” 

“The hell it’s not,” he snapped. He moved fully onto the bed, taking your face in his hands so firmly it almost hurt, his fingertips sinking into your skin. You took a deep, shaky breath and closed your eyes but he didn’t seem to be having that, either. “No, you look at me, goddammit, not letting you hide from this, you hear me?” 

You forced your eyes open, trying not to grimace as you looked at your husband, the man you wanted to be next to forever but couldn’t bear to keep dragging down like this. 

“You think I want you to leave?” He asked, brows raised so high they almost disappeared into his hair. “That I want you anywhere but next to me?” 

“Joel…” 

“I promised to love you and protect you,” he said. “You think that stops just because shit gets hard? You think I’m just going to let you go because somethin’ awful happened to you? I don’t care if I need to stay with you through this for another week or a year or a fuckin’ lifetime, I’m staying right fucking here. I love you, more than I ever thought I could love someone else and that don’t stop just because you need time!” 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore!” You almost yelled it. “Please, I don’t want to drag you down with me, I can’t let you get dragged down with me, the girls need you and…” 

“They need you, too,” he cut you off. “And you’re not draggin’ me anywhere. You go, I go. That’s how this works, you and me. You hear me? Now, if… if you need to be away from me because of shit I’ve done -“ 

“No,” you shook your head as best you could in his grip but he continued on like you hadn’t spoken at all. 

“-then we’ll figure that out but we’ll do that together, not with you leaving because you think it’s what’s best for me, you understand me? I love you. I’m sticking by you. That ain’t changing.” 

You closed your eyes and Joel’s hold on you loosened, his hands moving from your face to your shoulders, his thumbs moving in soothing circles over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, the forcefulness gone now, just the quiet care left in his voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’ll feel better.” 

He guided you to the bathroom and undressed you delicately as the water warmed up. He took off his socks but left on his jeans and t-shirt as he got in the shower with you. 

“Joel,” you whispered, your arms crossed over your chest as best you could. 

“It’s you and me,” he said. “We’re figuring this out together.” 

His hands moved over you slowly, firmly, cleaning your skin and your hair and working knots out of aching muscle. His clothes were dripping. He didn’t seem to notice. 

Another week later 

Joel had started going back to work. 

You’d insisted on it. You couldn’t keep him cooped up with you like this forever, you couldn’t bear to watch him slowly lose himself no matter how much he pretended like it was OK. 

He’d been reluctant, of course, and he wasn’t going on patrol or anything that took him away from the house for more than a few hours but you could tell that he was feeling better, now that he was pitching in around town again. 

Joel told you about some of what he did when he got back. He fixed the roof on a family’s house one day and told you about how the four-year-old boy there had showed him all his Matchbox cars before he left. Another day, Joel worked with Tommy to start figuring out good ways to expand the school as it was getting cramped, planning to bring their ideas to the council to decide how to move forward. Another, he told you about going to help Olivia at the stables and how people said they missed you and sent their best. 

The next day was when he came back with the kitten. 

“Brought you somethin’,” he said as he e came into your bedroom with it wriggling in his hold - the creature so small and his hand so large that it just fit in his palm. He set it on the bed next to you and you just gaped at it. 

“What…” 

“Couldn’t just leave it,” he shrugged. “It’s too new to survive on its own but it was all by itself. Figured, anyone here knows animals, it’s you. Thought it could use a mother.”

He’d apparently left the city walls for a few hours that day to test someone new on shooting for patrol. That’s when they found the kitten, snarling and ferocious, all alone near the shooting range. It was a little thing, black and white and fluffy with a tail that stuck straight up. Joel had scooped it up and tucked it inside a saddle bag before bribing it with some milk and chicken back in town. That had mellowed it some, its affection apparently easily bought as it ambled around the bed, pouncing at unseen prey and climbing on your legs. You smiled a little, watching it. 

“What are we supposed to do with a cat?” You asked, only glancing at Joel as you watched the kitten romp around. 

“Weren’t you sayin’ you were worried about mice in the barn?” He said. “Figured he can pitch in around here as much as anyone else. Earn his keep.” 

You laughed once, lightly, at that. The cat, paying rent in town with his presumed hunting skills. 

“Think you can raise ‘em up alright?” Joel asked. 

You reached out and ran a finger down his little back. He arched into your touch and you couldn’t help but smile a little. 

“I think so,” you said, even though you weren’t really sure that was true. 

But he did make you leave your room the next day. 

The kitten - who you decided to name Orion in hopes he lived up to his namesake in hunting skills - wanted to explore and you wanted to let him. You got out of bed to let him out of your room but it felt wrong, letting him go out there without someone watching him. This place was big and new and dangerous for him. He needed help. You didn’t go far, only making to the living room, but it felt like a different world to you, too. You sat on the couch, tucked as far back into the corner as you could go so you could feel things around you. It was the only way to be secure, knowing what was there. You weren’t sure how long you’d been sitting there when you watched Joel come up the front walk, jogging up the steps and unlocking the front door. He nearly jumped when he saw you there, sitting on the couch with your arms around your legs, the cat patting at the bottom of the curtain at the window. 

“Baby,” he said quickly, almost running for you before sitting next to you, tilting your face in his hand, examining you. “You alright? You hurt?” 

You frowned at him, his eyes still ranging over you. 

“I’m fine,” you said. “We just… wanted a change of scenery.” 

He nodded slowly, watching you cautiously. 

“And how we feelin’ about all that?” 

You considered that for a moment. 

“Alright, I think,” you said. “Better, with you here.” 

His lips tugged up ever so slightly at the edges. 

“Good,” he said. “That’s good.” 

He put a movie on for the two of you and, for a bit, you felt almost normal with him there beside you, tucked against his side as you watched things play out on screen. You felt secure enough that you started to doze off there, somehow exhausted even though all you’d done that day was come downstairs and sit on a couch. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” Joel said, giving you a squeeze as credits played. “Let’s get you upstairs.” 

It was something like waking up then. There were things happening around you that you realized had been happening for a while, you just hadn’t fully noticed. Joel helped you get get settled but didn’t get undressed himself. Instead, he got his pajamas from where they were folded on a chair in the corner and went to the bathroom, changing there. You frowned as he got into bed next to you and you pressed yourself against him, breathing in the warm, comforting smell of him. 

“Have you been doing that?” You asked quietly as he trailed his fingers up and down your spine. 

“Doin’ what?” He asked. You could hear the frown on his voice. 

“Getting ready for bed in another room,” you said. “I can’t remember from the last few days and…” 

You trailed off and he was quiet for a moment before he answered. 

“Yeah. Seemed… seemed smart.” 

Your frown deepened. 

“Why?” 

He sighed heavily, holding you a little tighter. 

“I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you or scare you,” he said slowly. “I dunno what they did to you - and you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to - but… I know enough of what they did before and you wake up afraid a lot. Figure… well, last thing you might need is seeing an undressed man so I’ve just been making sure you don’t. S’OK. I don’t mind.” 

Your throat got tight and you nuzzled closer to him, suddenly missing his skin so much it hurt. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” you said quietly, your voice thick. 

“It’s OK if you are,” he replied. “Just don’t want to be something that hurts you.” 

“You’re not,” you said. “I… I feel safe with you.” 

He slowly, hesitantly pressed his lips to the top of your head. 

“Good.” 

You were silent for a minute and you could feel his body start to relax against you and you knew you should just let him rest but now that you realized it had been weeks since you’d last really felt his skin, you couldn’t think about anything else. 

“Joel?” You said eventually. 

“Hm.” 

“Can…” You took a deep breath. “Can you take your shirt off?” 

He pulled back from you, frowning slightly. 

“I just…” you watched him closely. “I miss being able to touch you.” 

“Sure, baby,” he said. “If that’s what you really want.” 

You just nodded and he sat up enough to tug his shirt over his head before settling beside you, letting you decide how close you wanted to be. You pressed yourself against him, burying your face in his chest and breathing deep, not realizing just how much you’d missed this until that moment. 

“I love you, Joel,” you said quietly, pressing a kiss to his skin. 

He took a shaky breath. 

“I love you too, Bambi.” 

You tried to leave your room every day after that, at least for a little while. You made yourself tea in the kitchen and gave Orion a treat or watched something on TV in the living room. Ellie and Savvy came by and played cards one afternoon, both of them completely charmed by the way the cat would rear back on his hind legs to try to catch a string. You made it as far as the front porch once but you only lasted a few minutes there, the space too open to feel safe. 

One day, you decided to go and spend time in the room you’d set up for Savvy, sitting cross-legged on the bed and looking around at how Joel had helped you put it together. You were just thinking about how to ask if she wanted to come spend the night at least when you heard the front door open. 

“Sorry,” Joel said. “She’s got good days and bad. This may be a bad day if she’s still in our room…” 

“Do you think she’d be up for talking about it?” Olivia’s voice was distinctive, even from the floor above. “Because it’s been weeks…” 

“Know how long it’s been,” Joel said, his voice sharp. “Not about to jeopardize her health because…” 

“The whole town relies on us and those horses,” Olivia cut him off, heated too. “I understand that she’s going through something and I don’t want to make it worse. She’s my friend and I care about her. But I need to know whether or not she’s coming back anytime soon because the horses she was working with before this happened? They’re backsliding. If I need to take over, fine, I’ll do my best but it won’t be what she can do and I don’t want to do it without talking with her and…” 

“Another day,” Joel said. “I know what’s at stake but I am not putting her at risk. It ain’t worth it.” 

They were quiet for a moment and then Olivia sighed. 

“Fine,” she said. “But it has to be soon. They can’t just stay wild like this here, it’s not good for them. There’s only so much longer they can go on like this.” 

You heard her leave and then Joel’s heavy sigh before walking - his limp apparent even from a floor away - to the kitchen. You took advantage of the sound of the running water to slip back into your bedroom, pressing yourself back against the headboard and closing your eyes for a moment. 

Olivia was right. You knew the horses you’d been just starting to break would be in rough shape now. The longer you let them go, the harder it would be to get them back and it was dangerous to let them go too long in captivity without training. They could hurt themselves in the stall, hurt another horse, hurt someone trying to care for them. You couldn’t afford to let them go, the town needed them. Something had to give. 

Joel didn’t mention Olivia when he came upstairs only a few minutes later. He brought you tea and toast with jam and you ate some of it, staring at your hand with the missing fingers as you used the ones that remained to hold the bread. Joel just sat next to you in bed, reading silently and absently stroking Orion and watching you out of the corner of his eye like he was afraid of what you might do if he wasn’t watching. Because, apparently, now you needed supervision to eat fucking toast.

He tried to coax you down to watch a movie that evening but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the bed, your mind lingering on his conversation with Olivia, on all the things you were failing by still being here, like this. It was like you were still trapped there, still chained to that fucking wall, still waiting for the thing that was going to rip you apart. 

Joel held you as you tried to fall asleep - even though you weren’t sure you deserved it - and you knew it was going to be a rough night before it even began. 

You were right. You dreamed about Cody taking your daughters from where they were supposed to be safe and searching for them in the woods, desperate to reach them, ready to give every piece of yourself away in exchange but still not finding them. You dreamed about Mitchum and how he liked to hurt you, how his body felt like the weight of the world was suffocating you when he was on top of you. You dreamed of being trapped and caged and finding the only person left on the other side of the bars was yourself, standing there, holding the keys and watching, waiting. For what, you didn’t know. 

“Sweetheart!” Joel’s voice snapped you out of your head and, suddenly, you were back in his arms. The room was quiet and still and smelled like him and he was there, his eyes searching yours as he clutched you close. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re OK, I’ve got you. It’s just me, you and me, you’re safe. We’re all OK.” 

He ran his large palm over your head over and over, his eyes locked on yours, saying the words over and over and they were nothing new. They were things Joel had said probably every day since you’d been back, things he told you when he could feel you tense or when you panicked in your sleep. It was a familiar mantra, something you clung to when so much of the rest of the world seemed to be swallowed by chaos and cruelty. 

But this time, the settled in you differently. We’re OK. It’s just me, you and me. 

This thing you’d survived hadn’t just happened to you, not really. Yes, you’d been the one to willingly hand yourself over to monsters and you’d been the one to suffer what they wrought but it was Joel who came back from patrol to find his entire family gone. It was Joel who had searched for you, frantic and terrified, for days. It was Joel who had shepherded your daughters through your disappearance as they tried to shove their guilt away with vengeance. It was Joel who took the closest thing you’d get to justice from your tormentors. And after it all, he’d stood there, in the middle of this tempest, holding you through it, keeping your head above water. When everything threatened to pull you under, he was there. You weren’t alone. Not in this, not in anything. Not anymore. 

“Joel,” you whispered, reaching your hand up and trailing your fingers through his graying curls, his hair brushing against the scar tissue where your wedding band had once rested. 

“Hey baby,” he whispered back, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, his gaze less panicked. “You feeling OK? Want me to bring you anything? I can make you tea…” 

“No,” you said softly, still trailing your fingers through his hair. There’s a tightness in your stomach, one that was so foreign now but still so familiar when you were next to Joel. “That’s not what I want.” 

He watched you, his eyebrows drawing together ever so slightly and you could see just how restrained he was. You’d known Joel a long time, you knew how the whole of his body moved when in pleasure or pain, in certainty or confusion, even the fine muscles of his face - especially those - and he was holding back. He was protecting you, always protecting you, even now, even from himself. 

You didn’t want him to. 

“What do you need?” He asked gently, his hand going from your hair to your face, his thumb pressed below your cheekbone. 

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you watched him closely in the dark, keenly aware of how his body was in alignment with yours, how his leg had hooked over yours to tame your thrashing, how he held you close even though you knew you’d shoved him away so many times in your sleep. You moved closer to him slowly, your eyes staying locked on his as you hesitantly, delicately, kissed your husband for the first time in weeks. 

*** 

Joel had to fight to not moan at the feel of your lips on his. But they were soft and plush, giving to the press of his mouth, your body more relaxed than he’d felt in so long. 

He stopped himself, though. 

He couldn’t do this, not now, not with you like this. 

It had been weeks that you’d been back but, in so many ways, it was like you were still gone. You were so far away from him, so often just staring into space and sitting in silence. You didn’t seem to have any interest in listening to music or reading. The only thing that seemed to pry you out of that dark space within yourself was the cat - which he’d brought you out of sheer desperation - and the girls, but he wasn’t sure how genuine that was, if you were doing it because you wanted to or because you felt like you had to to take care of them. 

When you started leaving the bedroom, he’d had hope. He’d thought that, maybe, things were getting better. That you were willing to see beyond the boundaries of those four walls and into a future that was better, one where you were yourself again. And then you stalled out there, only occasionally going on the front porch the two of you had spent so much time together on, back in the days you were afraid to be inside his home. Now, you were afraid to leave it. 

Part of him wondered if this was what it was like when you first came to Jackson. If you’d spent weeks alone, locked inside your house and plagued by nightmares and memories that may as well have been nightmares, too. His heart ached for you if it that was case but he almost hoped it was. If this was just part of what it was like for you to survive, that he could count on you to return to him again once you got through this, then he’d get you back. You’d get through this and you’d be OK again.  

But the longer you stayed there, trapped inside yourself, the more his hope dwindled.

It didn’t help that everything was tinged with the acute knowledge that he’d failed you. That you’d been hurt because he hadn’t reached you in time, that you’d been left to suffer alone. He’d hoped - perversely, perhaps - that he would at least be able to put you back together. He’d kept your fingers until you made it back to Jackson, hoping that the doctor would be able to reattach them. But she’d shaken her head, looking almost pityingly at him as she did. They’d been gone too long, he was too late. He’d wrapped the parts of you he couldn’t save in a scrap of one of his shirts that you liked so much and buried it beside the tree in his front yard. You’d loved sitting there, playing guitar, before. It seemed right that part of you should stay there. He cleaned your wedding band and added it to the chain you’d given him with the bullet on it, the reminders of you always close. 

You were close now. So so close, so close it almost scared him. 

You pulled back from him, your eyes wide and deep and bright in the moonlight. 

“Joel,” you said softly, traces of familiar want in your voice. He had to try, again, to not moan at that. 

“Don’t have to do this, baby,” he said, brushing the soft skin of your cheek with his callused thumb. “S’OK.” 

“I know,” you said, your hand leaving his hair and holding his face much the same way he was holding yours. “But I want to.” 

“Bambi…” 

“I want you,” you said, rolling your hips against him as you spoke, the heat of desire sparking deep inside himself. He couldn’t hold the groan back this time, dropping his forehead to yours. “Please.” 

“Not going to hurt you,” he said, his chest tight at that thought. “Should… should just…” 

“You won’t hurt me,” you kissed him again, so soft and so gentle and you tasted sweet like peach and ginger from the tea and fuck but he missed you. He’d missed you so badly it hurt and the thought of never getting you back scared him so much he felt hollow if he lingered on it too long, like specter of the loss of you - even if your body was still here - threatened to send him back to the darkest reaches of himself. You were so close now, he could feel you, taste you. But if you left him now, after almost coming back to him, if he were the cause, that would ruin him. He knew it, deep at the core of him, that there would be no coming back from that. 

But you were here. 

“Please, Joel.” 

So close. 

“Please.” 

Begging for him. 

“I need you.” 

His resolve crumbled then. He kissed you, firm and needy and the way he wanted to kiss you for the rest of his life and you moaned into his mouth, your hand slipping down his skin to the back of his head, fingers knotting desperately in his hair. He swallowed the sounds of your pleasure, running his hand over you to your leg, hitching your thigh over his side so the next delicious roll of your hips made your hot pussy press against his hardening cock. 

It only took seconds for every concern in his head to melt away. How could he be worried about anything when you were here, like this, wanting him, moaning against him, feeling him and he was able to give you everything you wanted. He would break himself down into whatever form you needed and surrender himself to you, all you had to do was ask, all you had to do was let him. How could he be worried when you were finally letting him? 

He pulled your shirt over your head, casting it aside and you pulled at his in return so he took that off, too and then you were against him and he moaned at the feeling of your bare skin on his because fuck, you were soft. The plush curve of your breasts - your nipples peaked - on his chest, the soft of your stomach on his own, the heat of your tongue as you dipped into his mouth. He was breathing the same air as you again, feeling your pulse again, so close to being inside your skin again. 

You damn near ripped his pants off, scrambling with a desperate edge to your panting breaths as you did and he stopped you. You frowned, pupils blown, but he just held your hands still for a moment. 

“I got it,” he said, breathless himself. “Just one second, baby, I got you.” 

He pulled his pants off quickly and then yours, too and you were against him again almost immediately, your leg over his hip again as you lay side by side, facing each other, pressed so close and tight he was certain he could feel all of you against all of him. Your wet heat was tantalizingly, dangerously close to him, the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive sex. He held you tight, his lips brushing yours as you breathed into each other, noses touching, foreheads pressed together, a singular being tied together by want. 

But he stopped himself from simply thrusting into you, no matter how badly he ached to bury himself inside. You hadn’t told him what happened when Mitchum had you this time, all Joel knew was that he prayed he’d reached you before your captor had managed to hurt you like that again, that his men were afraid enough of their boss that they hadn’t, either. But he remembered what the first time he was with you had been like, how you’d been afraid, how he’d held you. He wasn’t about to just take what he wanted, no matter how much you seemed to be begging him to, not until he knew it wouldn’t break you down further. 

“You sure about this?” He asked. “You don’t have to do anything for me, baby. All you need to do for me is keep living, alright? Don’t want you to give me this unless you want it…” 

“I know,” you panted, kissing him again, the ache of need on your tongue. “I want to. I want you, I love you, please…” 

He kissed you, devouring your wanting as he pushed himself inside, his hand spreading wide over the small of your back, holding you in place as he sank into the tight, hot clutch of you. 

You moaned as he did, keening and desperate, and he felt you straining not to move, your leg tight around him, tension in your hips. The moment he was fully sheathed inside you, though, you let yourself go, your hips working against his and you pulled your lips from his, watching him. There was a look of almost awe in your eyes and he could feel the flutter of your pulse on the inside of you, feel the shudder of your needy, shallow breaths. You were so warm, so soft, shaped so perfectly for him, taking him into yourself in a way no one else ever had. He belonged here, like this, with you. This, he thought, was the only explanation. That when the matter that made up the two of you sprang into existence it was alongside each other and had spent both your lives racing for each other until you could be joined like this again. 

“Joel,” you whispered. “I missed you.” 

“I know, baby,” he whispered back. “I missed you, too. So, so much.” 

He rocked himself deeper then and you groaned, pressing your body completely against his, the soft of your cheek like silk against the rough of his beard, your quiet breaths drowning out every other sound in the world as your fingertips sank into his back, pulling at his skin as if you could knit yourself into him anymore than you already had.

Joel just held onto you like that, feeling you so close, his cock pressing deep inside where he belonged before pulling back only an inch or two, not daring to go any further from you than that. He became lost in you that way, the rhythm of your bodies together and the delicate moans and the wet plush of your mouth when your lips found his neck or shoulder when the building pleasure became too much. 

He felt you getting tighter around him and he knew just how to draw you tighter, drive your pleasure deeper. He let his baser instincts take over, kissing and sucking the delicate skin of your throat and listening to the shift in your needy breaths when he did, pressing a little harder on your back so he could get just a little deeper and feel your channel tense even more. 

“I’ve got you,” he said when it felt like you couldn’t be drawn any tighter. “Just come, come for me baby, please…” 

You came with a strangled little gasp, one he wouldn’t have heard had he been anywhere but this close, so close it seemed you had to be a single being now, tied together deeply and permanently, close enough that nothing would pull you away from him again. 

The almost painfully tight throbbing of you drove him over the edge and he came with you, buried so deep inside that he could feel all of you as you fluttered and pulsed over him. 

“Joel,” you groaned, sounding like you were far outside your own body when you did. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, I love you, I love you.” 

You said it again and again until you went limp in his arms. He just held you for a minute, feeling your heartbeat and your skin, when you took a shaky breath and he felt a tear on his cheek. 

“Hey,” he carefully pulled himself back from you, your eyes red and wet. He tried to slip out of you but you tightened your leg on him, not letting him leave. “Baby, you gotta talk to me…” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice thick and wet and desperate in a whole new way. “I know I’ve been… I’m trying, I know I need to get back to normal with you and the girls and the horses and I don’t want to be like this and it’s like I can see where I was but I can’t reach it and I just…” 

“Hey,” he said again, taking your face in his hands. “Look at me. It’s OK. We’re in this together, you and me. It don’t matter how long it takes, what you need, as long as you’re here. When you were gone… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to go back without you…” 

“Joel…”

“Nothin’ really seemed worth it unless you were there, too,” he said. “That hasn’t changed and it’s not going to. Don’t matter how long it takes or what you need, it’s you and me. I’ve got you, baby. Always.” 

You nodded and burrowed into his neck and he held you until you were still and calm, drifting off in his arms. With you close like that, he managed to find sleep, too, passing out harder than he had since the two of you had come back to Jackson. He slept so hard that he didn’t feel you get out of bed in the night. 

It was still dark when he woke up and found himself alone, the bed cold. 

“Bambi?” He said quietly. But he didn’t expect you to answer. Something in him knew you were gone.

He got up quickly then, checking the bathroom and the living room and the kitchen and the porch but you weren’t anywhere. 

His heart raced. 

“Fuck,” he swore, wondering if you might have gone to see the girls or if he’d just scare them if he went there to check. He looked out the window, anyway, but their place was still dark. He tried to think of where else to go when it occurred to him, what you’d said in bed just a few hours earlier. The horses. You’d mentioned the horses. 

He shoved his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie them, and ran to the stable, the faintest hint of dawn starting on the horizon. He damn near skidded to a stop at the fence, his bad leg throbbing, but he didn’t care. You were there, getting to your feet from the dirt in the middle of the paddock, a determined look on your face. 

“Got news for you,” you said to the horse in front of you, one of the stallions you’d been working with before Cody took you. “Not gonna beat me that easy. I know it’s scary, know it’s hard but I promise it’s good for you. Just gotta let me take care of you.” 

He watched you pet and soothe the animal for a moment before you pulled yourself roughly onto the horse’s back with a pained groan. It immediately rebelled, bucking and thrashing, but you held on, long enough that Joel thought you’d outlast the horse when it managed to dislodge you and you flew, landing with a sickening thud on the dirt. 

“Shit,” Joel jumped the fence, running for you as the horse took off to the other side of the paddock. You groaned and shoved yourself up onto your hands as Joel reached you and you jumped a little when he touched you. He helped you sit up and you tried to stand but he held you down. You frowned, watching him. “Baby, what are you doin’ out here? It’s…” 

“I can’t keep letting them go like this,” you said, your eyes wide. “They need help, they need to learn how to live here, if I just let them keep going back to what they were it will be harder and and harder to get them to where they need to be!” 

“Sweetheart, you’re still recovering,” he said. “You can’t push it, you’ll…”  

“I need to do this, Joel,” you said softly, your hand with the missing fingers finding his cheek. “Please, let me.” 

He watched you for a moment, seeing you - the determined, forceful you - in your eyes for the first time in weeks. He tried to stifle his fear and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back. 

“I’ll be right here,” he smiled softly. “It’s you and me.” 

You gave him a small smile in return before getting up and going to the horse, talking to him for a moment before getting right back on. 

Next chapter

A/N: This is it, just one little chapter left to say goodbye to these characters we've been with for a year now! I can't believe we're finally here, it feels like I've been writing this story forever. Thank you so much for sticking with it even as I took a million years to finish and left you hanging time and again. This story was a big learning experience for me and I appreciate you hanging in there through it. Thank you for spending your time here and for loving them and making sharing this story so special. It means everything to me.

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P11)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: Joel finds his way to the town. Y/N is determined to do anything to keep Ellie safe.

Warnings: blood, death, acts of murder, attempted rape

BIG TRIGGER WARNING

Masterlist

Part 1 and 12

........................................................

The sound of the cage door opening woke up the girls.

Y/N was still exhausted, so she rubbed at her eyes in a hurry to try to wake herself up.

David and James stepped past her and picked up Ellie.

Ellie began to scream, which made Y/N's blood run cold.

"W…Hey, What are you doing?" She asked as she stood up on her feet.

When James began to pull Ellie out of the cell, Y/N immediately moved towards them to help the girl.

But David stopped her by wrapping his arms around her from behind, "Hey." He cooed in her ear, "It will all be okay."

"No," she shook her head, "NO! STOP! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HER!"

James pulled Ellie onto the butcher table outside of the cell, and David locked Y/N back in, keeping her from interfering.

Ellie's screams were driving Y/N crazy.

She pushed herself against the bars, "STOP! PLEASE… ELLIE!"

David brought the cleaver up in his hand.

"Don't!" Ellie cried, "I'M INFECTED!"

He slammed the cleaver down by her head, making Y/N flinch.

"And now," Ellie remarked, "So are you."

Only then did David notice the bite mark in his hand.

While he was distracted, Ellie took the cleaver and sunk it into James' neck.

"RUN ELLIE!"

She didn't need to be told twice.

Ellie bolted out of the door and didn't look back.

David turned back to Y/N. "You… you little whore."

She backed away from the bars. "I didn't… you said… 'everything happens for a reason'… didn't you?"

He growled and unlocked the cage.

A panicking feeling settled into Y/N's stomach.

"You're gonna fucking listen to me now, aren't you?" David taunted as he stood in the doorway of the cage.

Y/N couldn't breathe.

He flinched towards her to scare her.

She jumped back and tripped, now sitting on the floor in a panicking mess. "Don't… you don't have to do this…."

He smiled as he kneeled down to her level. His hand grabbed one of her ankles gently and he pulled her towards him, "Oh, you sweet girl. Are you gonna be good for me?"

Sweet girl.

She let out a shuddered breath at the name. 

She missed Joel.

She felt David run his hand up her leg.

"D...Don't…"

"Why not?"

She looked into his eyes. Though she was terrified, she knew she could at least try to get him to leave her alone. Her voice was a quiet tone, "If he's out there… then he's hunting you down… and he won't stop until he gets what he wants."

David scoffed, "And what does he want, Y/N?"

"Well… it…depends on where you keep moving your hand… stop now, and… he might let you keep all of your fingers…" 

…

Ellie sprinted through the snow.

She had to find Joel.

But she couldn't leave Y/N behind.

She wasn't sure what to do.

Luckily, Joel had already started his rescue mission, and was in the tree line.

He saw Ellie run out of the building, and walked out to get her. "Ellie…" his soft voice carried in the cold air.

She cried when she saw him.

She ran to him and hugged his torso with all of her strength, "I tried… but… they… they were… gonna kill me…"

"I know, Ellie. I know. I saw the shed," Joel cooed as he rubbed her back softly. "Where is Y/N? Is she alright?"

Ellie shook her head, "She's still there… and D…David… he's trying… he…"

"Slow down. What did he say?"

"He said… he was gonna train… Y/N like… like a dog to its master…"

All of Joel's comforting tone and movements were gone. "He said… what?"

Ellie shook her head, not wanting to repeat her words.

But Joel didn't really need to hear them again. He had heard enough.

His deadly demeanor returned, and he turned into the merciless killer again.

"Where is she?" He asked coldly.

…

Y/N had managed to kick David in the face, but she wasn't quick enough to move.

When she had tried to get up, he pushed her down again, this time, straddling her on the cold tile.

"You…you're a monster!" Y/N cried out.

David smirked, "You don't know how good I am. What I can give you…"

She tried to push his chest to get away, but it was in vain, "No… you have nothing…"

"I've decided to take the place of your  husband, Y/N. And I'm gonna teach you. I'm gonna show you what love is like."

His hand moved to the button on her jeans.

"No.. stop…" she cried. Her voice was desperate and soft, unlike the usual confidence and sarcasm she always had.

She told herself that she'd never let something like this happen. She'd fight. She'd kill them.

But now? She couldn't bring herself to do anything.

Where was Joel? 

He wouldn't let this happen. He would snap David's neck. 

She can't go down without a fight.

So, she began to struggle against his grip. 

"Oh good," David grinned, "The fighting is the part I like the most."

She cried out in grunts, trying to do anything to overpower the man. Or at least to try to escape.

But her jeans were now around her ankles, and she was losing strength.

Her lungs were killing her.

Black dots clouded her vision.

She can't pass out now.

"Don't be afraid," David cooed into her ear. "'There is no fear in love.'"

With what little strength she had left, she reached at his waist and pulled out his keyring. 

She let out a final grunt.

And shoved one of the keys into one of  the man's eye sockets.

He screamed and backed away as he covered his eye.

She won't forget the sight.

She began to crawl away, gaining a little strength in knowing she could escape.

If only she were so lucky.

David grabbed her leg once again.

On instinct, Y/N kicked at him again.

And kicked the key further into the man's head, hitting his brain.

David fell back in a slump as his blood began to leak on the floor.

Y/N sat up and viewed what she had done.

And let out a strained cry.

She was so tired and scared. She didn't know what to do.

And the black dots had returned to her vision.

She tried to crawl away but she didn't make it far before the darkness clouded her vision completely.

…

"H..Here. In here." Ellie pointed.

Joel shrugged off his backpack, handing it to her. "You're gonna stay out here. And if I don't come back, you're gonna leave."

"No, I-"

"Do. It." Joel commanded.

Ellie nodded.

Joel opened the door with a loud creak.

He stepped in with his handgun ready.

But he was nowhere near ready for the sight in front of him.

Y/N was passed out in the cage, half-dressed.

David's dead body laid next to her.

The preacher's blood stained the flannel Joel had given the woman only days before.

"F…Fuck." Joel muttered in a panic.

He grabbed her jeans and kneeled next to her. "Y/N?"

She was breathing, and that alone was enough to make Joel relax.

But she wasn't gonna wake up anytime soon.

He sighed and began to dress the woman again, noting how even in her sleep, she was shivering.

Once dressed, Joel shrugged off his own coat and wrapped it around her to keep her warm before picking her up with a grunt.

How could he let this happen?

He pulled her as close to his body as possible and placed a kiss on her forehead. "You're safe, sweet girl... I gotcha. I gotcha..."

He wasn't going to fail her again.

He stepped out of the building, relieved that he had recovered his most priced possession.

.............................................................

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje, @ashleyfilm, @darling-imobsessed

[lokischocolatefountain]

Secret || Mister Miller

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Warnings: No outbreak, huge age gap, infidelity in later chapters, voyeurism, creepy Joel, masturbation (male and female), bfd!Joel)

Word count: 1.3k words

Summary: Your shameful secret you keep from your boyfriend is not such a secret after all. Your boyfriend’s dad Joel Miller knows what you do…very intimately.

A/N: I don’t know what’s with me writing all this hefty age gap Joel fics with dark themes… I need to be lobotomised. Or I should go back to writing more sweet husband!Javi fics… I’m planning on making this a three parter or maybe even five… Let me know where you’d like to see this go.

Checking once again if he was asleep, you slipped out of his bed. Laptop, phone and headphones in hand, you made your way out of his room, making sure to be very quiet when shutting the door. It had become something of a routine since you started dating. He was good, better than some boyfriends you had in the past who wouldn’t even last five minutes. He treated you well, asked you what you liked in bed and took your advice. Which was why you felt guilty each time you escaped his room in the night to take care of yourself in the living room.

Your parents were on a summer vacation of their own, a long road trip to visit distant cousin you knew fuck all about. You would’ve gone even though you didn’t want to. But Matt begged you to come with him to stay in Texas for the summer. It was an attractive idea— you’d never been to his part of Texas before and you knew you’d miss him a lot. But you didn’t want to inconvenience him or his dad. Thankfully, Mr. Miller was kind and opened his doors to you and his son for the summer.

In return, you helped around the house. He never asked. But he was a busy man. A single dad to Matt and his sister Sarah since their mother left, being busy was his normal state of being. He was the owner of a small construction company he ran with the help of his brother.

Before getting up to your secret nightly activity, you headed to the kitchen and began doing the dishes. Matt cooked well, but he was atrocious with cleaning up. So you did that. It was also to somewhat reduce the guilt that built up in you for hiding things from him. When finished with the dishes, you settled on the floor with your laptop on the coffee table.

Your hand played with your necklace out of habit. Tracing the M of the pendant attached to the necklace Matt gave you for your anniversary. You dropped it, guilt searing your thumb in the M shape of the pendant for doing this without his knowledge.

Shame hit you right as the website loaded, images appeared of naked women posed amidst naked men for video thumbnails. Each provided you a glimpse into the kind of degrading activity each actress engaged in for you to get off in shame. Your eyes caught a thumbnail of a man— older, broad, muscular with a girl your age. You hovered the cursor over the image and it provided you a short peek into what was inside- the man, his hand gripping her hair and pounding into her hard and fast as her face contorted in pleasure. You didn’t care that it was all fake, that the actress probably didn’t even feel good.

You clicked on the video and skipped the poorly acted introduction to get to the good part. Headphones in and volume on high, hand inside your shorts as you touched yourself, you didn’t know you weren’t the only voyeur in the room.

Having come downstairs to fetch himself some water, Joel had noticed you crouching in between his couch and coffee table with your laptop playing something downright filthy. He should’ve walked away, given you your privacy. But goddamn it, you let out a sweet little whine, barely audible and his feet glued themselves to the ground.

It was also because of how uncharacteristic it was of you to do something like this. He’d known you for a while now and you’d always been sweet. Too sweet for his son, if you asked him to be honest. You were slightly older than Matt, having begun your Masters with a little bit of a break after your Bachelors. You were a good influence on him, he’d say. But clearly his son hadn’t been good to you, if he had to go by how you were touching yourself to porn in his living room.

Now, he knew it was wrong. No decent man would be aroused at the sight of his son’s girl getting herself off. But you were on his living room floor, using his wifi and you sounded gorgeous making those little whines and whimpers. If he had to guess the sort of thing you liked—and he never thought of such a thing before—it would be one of those erotic novels with shirtless men on the cover. Not this. Not videos of a man who fucked a girl like she was nothin’, picked her up and threw her around and brought his hand down on her to make her stay put and take whatever he gave her.

He put his hand down his sweatpants, just as you had yours down those little shorts you wore around his house. He couldn’t see anything of you. Just the back of your head. For Joel, that was enough. Just knowing that this innocent little thing was getting off on watching a man use a girl like that was enough.

Eyes fixed on you, he stroked his cock, imagining he had a nice wet cunt around it instead of his hand. The man on your screen had the girl pushed against a wall as he pounded into her, her eyes rolled back into her skull and she had her lips parted, presumably moaning in false enthusiasm for the man.

He’d been starved for too long. There was no other explanation for why he felt good watching that fake shit, especially so far away from the screen and with no audio.

He screwed his eyes shut as he got close, imagining himself as the man in the screen, getting to fuck a pretty thing like that. A girl on his bed, against his wall, on her knees with his cock drilling into her holes. He imagined that his hand, large and callused from decades of hard labor, around a pretty throat. Holding it along with a necklace with a gold M pendant dangling off of it. Her eyes rolled back and her lips— your lips — parted as you struggled to breathe. He leaned against the wall as his knees weakened, the image of you in his head strong as he stroked himself. You on his bed, you against his wall, you on your knees for him— and with a whimper he hid by biting down on his lip, he came. White hot cum coated his hand and fuck, what a waste when it’d look so pretty on you.

Fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

He took one last look at you before rushing back upstairs to his room. On the way, he checked if Matt’s door was still closed. It was.

He’d been starved too long. That was all. Nothing else. He’d done too long without a girl and you were the nearest one, cleaning up after his son and wishing him a “Good Morning, Mister Miller” every morning and asking “How was your day, Mister Miller?” when they sat together to eat whatever Matt cooked. It was just proximity.

There was no other explanation.

He’d been…active in his youth. That’s how he had two kids at an age where he was supposed to be a kid himself. But things died down later. Perils of parenting and a contracting business. There were women. Fleeting relationships and even more fleeting fuck buddies who’d all gone off to be with someone else. Now, there was just work. Hell, the last time he picked up a pretty thing at a bar was Tess.

Tess. That was it.

He decided he would give her a call, see if she still had the habit of cheatin’ on that useless husband of hers. Get rid of the images of you in his head with images of Tess.

[magneticecstasy]

clandestine ✤ joel miller part ii — crushcrushcrush

series masterlist & foreword | ao3

moodboard is not an illustration of how reader should look, just for the ~vibes~

fic summary: it’s september 2016, you're in your final year of sixth form college and joel miller joins the teaching staff as your new history teacher. over the course of the academic year, boundaries are blurred, crossed and ruined when joel begins to reciprocate your insatiable crush on him; what should be so wrong just feels so right.

rating: E | pairing/AU: teacher!joel x student!fem!reader

chapter warnings/tags: (7.1k) this is an 18+ fic so mdni! dubcon (due to student/teacher relationship, both parties are consenting otherwise), age gap (reader is 18, Joel is in his early 30s), power imbalance, inappropriate relationships (teacher!Joel is really not a good teacher), fetishization of new-adulthood, some pervy!Joel, dacryphilia, solo m!masturbation (Joel jacks off in a school bathroom, dirty bastard), solo f!masturbation, wet dreams (mentioned), pet names (Joel calls reader darlin’, sweetheart etc.), minimal description of fem!reader where possible, reader has hair and is generally able-bodied, otherwise undescribed where possible, Tommy is mentioned and is 2 years younger than Joel

a/n: thank you to those who read and enjoyed part one!! i'm absolutely over the moon with all the comments, reblogs and likes!!! it warms my lil heart right up! chapter title comes from crushcrushcrush by paramore but also overlaps with crush by ethel cain which i've been listening to relentlessly when writing this fic. we get more joel this chapter, i hope i'm doing him justice lol - also i mention the epq a million times in this chapter - it's a qualification where you do an extended project that you have to do in sixth form and it's a fucking ballache so everyone hates doing it, trust me

account tags (tagging people who asked and people who seemed interested in chapter one, let me know if you'd like to be added): @sugadolly @yorkshirewench @jodiswiftle @pedgito @mel2fine @canteenee4 @dugiioh @undercoverpena @javiermillerrrr @littlemisspascal

banners and graphics from @saradika-graphics

Thursday 17th October

6:30am

As the weeks of the new term pass, the season changes. The balmy days of September merge into the typical chill of October. Long daylight hours surrender to darker nighttides, elongating the late autumn evenings. Its mornings are darker, sunrise commencing later and later as each day passes. The drop in temperature, though gradual, is noticeable, making the warm cocoon of your bed all the more inviting when your blaring alarm disrupts your blissful sleep. With great reluctance, you pull yourself from the inviting nest and pull the covers back in a haphazard attempt of making your bed. It feels a little pointless as you’ll only be getting back in it later tonight but you don’t want your mum to nag. Making your way to the bathroom, the laminate floor of the hallway beneath your bare feet makes you cringe with its cool touch. The tiles in the bathroom are colder but you decide to suck it up and jump in the shower as a warm place of refuge.

Your carefully crafted shower playlist echoes, a cacophony of sound that's a ritual to your morning routine: shower, get ready, breakfast, drive to college. Using the shower like your own personal recording studio, you sing  along like nobody’s listening as you wash your body with sweet smelling soaps, the music helping to calm you before the busy day ahead. A knock at the bathroom door startles you cold. It nearly sends you slipping on the shower’s floor.

“Don’t be in there all day, Mum and I need to get ready too, you know,” your dad grumbles from behind the door. You mumble out a response, rolling your eyes, letting him know that you’ll be out soon. You wash the remnant bubbles of body wash left on your body before switching off the shower and drying off with a rough towel. Wrapping it around yourself, you exit the bathroom and return to your bedroom.

Like any other teenager’s room, it’s untidy. A pile of laundry in a basket threatens to overflow—you make a mental note to deal with it when you get home tonight. The main source of mess is concentrated on and around your desk, textbooks and folders stacked one upon another like a tower on one side with notebooks in a scattered pile on the other with your closed laptop in the middle. The past few weeks of term brought with it a tsunami of work and you’d manage to tread water in the sea of revision, coursework and homework but it was tiring trying to keep on top of college plus everything else and your room was evidence of that.

Conscious of the time, you get ready with haste, applying a light amount of makeup (to avoid sanctions for ‘wearing too much’) and pull on your uniform: a crisp button-up shirt tucked into a pleated plaid skirt, dark tights and shoes, tie, and a fitted blazer that bore the college’s emblem on the breast. You look at yourself in the full length mirror, inspecting yourself, readjusting your tie so it doesn't look completely ridiculous and rolling up your skirt a few times so it hits just above of your knee. The uniform isn’t much to your taste but it could be much worse. Satisfied, you pack your bag with the notebooks you need for the day and head downstairs for breakfast.

The clock in the kitchen shows that it’s past half 7 and it hurries your pace. You make some toast lathered in butter and eat it hurriedly before calling out goodbye to your parents and rush out the door. A silent prayer passes to your lips as you get in your car, hoping that it’ll start with no issues. Turning the ignition, the car sputters to life, thank god. Moving into gear, it creeks as you roll out of the driveway and drive to college.

9:17am

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you seethe under your breath.

Holding an essay that you’d completed a fortnight ago for Mr Hall, the other History teacher, you almost crumple it with how tight you grip the papers. It’s littered with red squiggles of Mr Hall’s sloppy handwriting, taunting you as if it were hyperfocusing on every little mistake you’ve ever made. Shuffling through the essay’s pages, scanning its contents, a laugh of disbelief erupts from the back of your throat. The final comment scrawled on the last page nearly sends you over the edge with indignation:

I don’t think you’ve grasped the concept of this topic very well. Try harder next time. Grade: 11/25. 

Bullshit. In an attempt to prove yourself to the despised teacher, you made sure that your spelling and grammar was immaculate and even asked Mr Miller to proofread for you as a favour. In the short few weeks since his arrival, you’d built up a good rapport with the new teacher. It was inevitable with the way he was, his charming allure drawing you to him. It also helped that you found him earth-shatteringly attractive.

You watched him in anticipation as he read your work, feeling the tips of your ears grow hot. It’s probably shit, you think. Pure rubbish. After a while, he put you out of your misery.

“This looks good to me, darlin’,” he drawls, his praise sending an involuntary shiver through your body, “really good, actually. It’s well-written, concise, and has what appears to be thorough source analysis,” he compliments, his thick fingers gliding over the paragraphs, as he focuses on the text. “This is miles better than some of the stuff I use’ta grade when I was teaching at the university and those were meant t’be college level,” he scoffs, returning the papers back to you.

His fingers lingered a little too long as they graze against yours, sending sparks of electricity through your body.

“You mean it? You’re not just saying that to not hurt my feelings, right?” you ask nervously, unsure of yourself.

“‘Course. I don’t mess around, darlin’. Let me know what you get. ‘Be interested to know.”

Noticing your displeasure, Chelsea nudges you. “You alrigh’?” she inquires, her voice low to avoid anyone overhearing.

“That man is taking the absolute piss. Look at this shit.” You shove the paper across the desk for her to read. She reads through the essay without a sound, concentrating.

“What the hell, 11 out of 25? Lemme check mine, I haven’t seen it yet,” she says and reads through her own work, confusion dawning on her face. “I got 16 out of 25? But yours was way more detailed. Doesn’t make sense. Yours is at least a B, surely?” 

“Well, according to dickhead over there, it’s an E.” Exasperated, you take the essay from her and shove it in your bag. You just can’t fucking win with this man; it feels like he’s determined to undermine and belittle you at every turn. Even on results’ day back in August, he barely acknowledged you, only offering a curt ‘well done’. Before you can rant further, Mr Hall beckons the class for their attention and begins his lesson. Throughout the rest of the period, you seethe like a pot over a flame, slowly simmering, threatening to overflow.

10:50am

As soon as the bell goes, you dart out of the classroom with little regard for Mr Hall and his hollers, berating you for leaving his class without waiting to be dismissed. If you stayed a second longer in that classroom, you were sure to explode. Unbothered by his threat of a detention, you storm down the corridor with reckless abandon. Wanting to be anywhere else right now, the thought of jumping in your car and skiving the rest of the day was tempting. Tears of frustration threaten to fall and the mist of anger clouds your mind so much that you’re startled when you slam hard into someone’s chest as you round the corner.

“Ow! Watch where you’re going, you fuckin—” you launch into berating the person but stop abruptly when you realise who you’d collided with, your face scorching with embarrasment.

Mr Miller stands before you, his broad frame towering over you. He let out a husky laugh, his eyes glinting with a teasing warmth.

“Easy, sweetheart, you rushing to the canteen or somethin’?”  You stay silent, afraid the tears in your eyes would spill if you said anything. It takes a moment for him to grasp the distress etched on your face.

“Talk to me, darlin’, what’s wrong?” His voice is low, as concern blooms across his face. The corridor begins to fill with students, its temperature rising and absolutely not helping with your impending meltdown. A heaviness settles in your eyes, and thick tears soon spill down your cheeks without warning. How embarrassing.

Without a moment's hesitation, Joel has a strong arm around you as he whisks you away into his classroom that’s just up the corridor, doing his best to shield you from prying eyes. Ushering you in and closing the door behind him, he pulls a chair from under a desk close to his and beckons you to sit down. Slumping into the rigid chair, you let the frustrated tears flow.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking asshole!” you groan in resentment, your voice breaking as you bury your face in your hands and sob uncontrollably, finally giving in to your emotions. Joel stays silent save for a soft I know, darlin’, it’s gonna be okay, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, thumb softly tracing circles to soothe you. As your tears gradually slow and you start to regain your composure, he positions his leather office chair in front of you and sits down comfortably in the plush seat.

“Tell me what’s happened that’s got you so upset. Was it those boys again?” he asks softly, though sounds disgruntled at the thought of those idiots bothering you again.

“No, no,” you utter whilst using the sleeve of your blazer to wipe away any stray tears. “You know that essay I showed you? Well, I got the grade back off Mr Hall. 11 out of 25. An E.” Your voice wavers, a stray tear falling down your warmed cheek.

His eyes widen with utter disbelief, but he doesn’t interrupt. The gaze of his delicious brown eyes is unwavering as he listens to you, providing you with a safe space to vent your resentment.

“I just don’t understand what his fucking problem is. He’s always talking down to me, shitting on whatever I hand in, giving me crappy feedback. Like if my work is so bad, at least help me with providing constructive criticism, it’s literally his job,” you express, waving your arms in exasperation, hands chopping through the air as if to slice through the grievance.

“Yeah, I don’t like him but I try to be as respectful as I can, y’know. I’m just so tired of the bullshit.” You let out a loud sigh, feeling the weight of the issue begin to dissolve from your tense shoulders.

Joel shuffles in his chair before he moistens his lips with a short flit of his tongue, thinking thoroughly before he approaches his next question: “How long has this been going on?”

“I dunno, since last year.”

“You got the essay with ya?”

“Yeah, lemme grab it.” You rifle through your heavy bag, searching. It takes a second but you find it.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he coos with a slight but comforting smile, taking the papers from you. He twists back to grab his glasses from the desk behind him elongating his body to reach them.

The front of his button-up shirt comes untucked in the process, revealing a glimpse of his soft, somewhat imperceptible trail of hair descending from his soft abdomen that beckons your curiosity and desire. It draws your eyes, each subtle curve and line a tender reminder of his natural magnetism. Paired with the groan that escapes his lips as he stretches behind, this sight feels obscene to observe.

Warm arousal pools low in your tummy, and you feel wet slick begin to permeate the soft folds of your cunt. Biting your plump lip, your thighs clench, seeking any solution to relieve the slow building pressure in your core. It does nothing but wind you up tighter like an iron spring, threatening to burst. You tear your ogling eyes away before he notices and you cross your legs in a last ditch attempt to find reprieve, your skirt hitching a little higher revealing more of your pantyhose-covered thighs; it’s not purposeful, but it isn’t accidental either. He slips the glasses on, sneaking a glance at you in that damn skirt before reading through the papers.

Joel's immediate reaction to reading the essay was parallel to yours: what the fuck? He had heard about Anthony Hall's reputation around the college; Hall was disliked by the majority of staff whilst the students absolutely despised him. Sure, Hall had always been polite enough to him in department meetings and casual encounters, but Joel had sensed something was off about him. Joel was never one to judge someone immediately based on rumour or appearance, he had just thought that Hall was just a bit of a weird guy, awkward and antisocial. However, holding your essay covered in some of the harshest feedback he'd ever seen as a lecturer and teacher, Joel reached his conclusion: Anthony Hall is a douchebag.

“Jesus Christ…” he breathes, flicking through the essay. Some of these comments didn’t even make sense to what you had been writing about, they were just nasty. Joel wondered if Hall had been drunk or high when marking your essay. Possibly both. The more he read, the more his heart ached for you. He’d come to know how hardworking you were in his few weeks at the college, always asking questions to deepen your understanding of certain topics in lessons, often staying behind to pick his brains about what he thought about a topic. 

Whether it was to genuinely seek his opinion or  simply to have an excuse to talk to him alone, he didn’t mind. He cherished your company in any capacity. He found your expression endearing as you focused on the tasks he set, your brow furrowing slightly with concentration, and the way you bit your lip when faced with a challenging question was something he found particularly alluring. Your soft laughter at his corny jokes, even when the rest of the class would roll their eyes, felt like an intimate connection between the two of you.

The way your hips moved when you approached his desk to ask a question set his heart racing and watching you leave, your skirt swaying, teased him to no end, stirring an inquisitiveness about what lay beneath. He couldn’t help but notice that you sometimes rolled up your skirt making it shorter, and silently hoped you did that just for him—and it drove him absolutely crazy. These subtle gestures, whether intentional or not, kept his thoughts occupied, leaving him to navigate a delicate balance between professional restraint and his own personal curiosity.

“So what do you think? Is he right or…?” you trail off, breaking the silence. Joel hadn’t realised that he hadn’t said anything for a while, the incredulity of the essay situation overcoming him.

“I’m just speechless, honestly. I ain’t ever seen anything like it. Barely know where to begin…” He falters, a kink in his self-assured armour he so often wore with pride. Your stomach drops and worry sets in for a moment. Sensing your insecurity, he endeavours to repair the armour.

He flashes a sweet smile, an eyebrow slightly raised for a moment, revealing soft crows feet that grace the outer corner of his espresso brown eyes. “But I can tell you that this is a fantastic essay. It ain’t fair the way he’s graded it. I can tell you that for free, darlin’,” he pauses a moment. “I’m gonna talk to him about this,” waving the essay nonchalantly, “if you’re happy for me to do so, ‘course,” his steady gaze meeting with yours.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna cause…” The rest of your words die in your mouth as Joel’s gazes intensifies as if to command you to lay your trust with him. Understanding, you nod, fidgeting with the bits of skin around your nails. As his look softens, his eyes glisten as the sunlight hits the flicks of toffee and golden honey tones of his orbs in the most delicious way.  

“Alright, you talk to Mr Hall, just please leave out the bit where I had a menty b.” You let out a nervous laugh, shuffling around in your seat. 

“The hell is a menty b?” He scoffs, ever confused by the way young people communicate these days. It was bad enough at home in Austin with teen colloquialisms, but British slang was a different beast altogether for Joel. It was like a new language that often forced him to wade through an unknown branch of the English lexicon when he conversed with his students and staff alike.

“Mental breakdown, duh,” You smirked, a teasing grin creeping across your lips, “you coulda guessed that one easy if used your head.” Rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion, you wanted to tease him, wanted him to get wound up so much he had to pin you down and put you in your place. One day, maybe, for now that desire remains in your dreams.

“Hey—don’t let your mouth write a check your butt can’t cash.” He quips, playing along in this rally of dalliance.

You shoot him a playful but confused look. “What does that even mean?”

A quiet but teasing gruff chuckle escapes him. “Means don’t run your mouth ‘less you got the gall to back it up.” He quips, leaning back to chuck the essay on his desk.

The sliver of silky hair makes an appearance again and you have to take a deep breath to compose yourself as your clit swells with the want—no—the need for her to be touched. Sure you’ve had some less-than-stellar experiences that left you disappointed, aching for more, but this was a whole different kettle of fish. He’d barely laid a finger and had you a dripping, horny mess. If he only knew about the party in your panties when he taught you the concepts of American politics or the grounds for Regan’s war on drugs, you were sure he’d say you’re a bad girl and needed to be taught a lesson. And god, you wish he would.

“I’ve got the gall.” You challenge, arms crossed in juvenile defiance, playing it up.

“Ya think so?” Matching your energy, he readjusts himself in the plush leather office chair, leaning towards you. The tension in the air is palpable, thick like thunder, waiting for the lightning to strike. 

Joel’s tone shifts, husky, pouring thick like honey. “Wanna put your money where your mouth is, darlin’?” He tests, kissing his teeth, that gaze pouring into you as he tilts his head slightly in curiosity, dark golden eyes flitting between yours and your lips. 

Before you could respond, the bell cuts through the air like a jagged knife cutting you out of the moment like a butcher carving through a baron of meat. You let out a heavy sigh. EPQ is your next lesson and the thought of it makes you cringe.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters under his breath in a hope you won’t hear, his large palms falling to his lap with a soft slap, “best get to next lesson sweetheart. Don’t want you to be late, now, do we?”

Begrudgingly, you gather your things without much haste, not caring about being late. The day feels like a write-off to you at this point. Mr Miller walks you to the door, opening it for you—always the gentleman. Leaning casually against the door frame, his broad shoulders exude effortless rugged charm.

“Relax, alright? I'll handle it with Mr Hall. No need to worry your pretty little head, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise. Thank you, sir.”

And with that, you shuffle along to third period. You forget about the essay for a while, smiling to yourself, revelling at the fact that Mr Miller called you pretty. It makes the day that little bit easier to deal with.

11:32am

Closing the door behind you, Joel resigns himself to his desk, letting out a gruff sigh, thumb and finger massaging the bridge of his aquiline nose. He hated to see you so down and upset, but you looked so goddamn pretty with tears streaming down your face. Sordid illicit imaginings of you cloud his mind, his growing erection straining against his trousers, a pertinent reminder that he is probably—definitely—absolutely fucked. 

Working in a college is hard work. Piles of marking. Countless meetings to attend. Difficult conversations to be had with students, parents and co-workers. The burden of it all could and would ruin some professionals without a way to relieve the stress. Some nights when Joel found himself needing release after a stressful day, you crept into his mind.

Deep down it was wrong to think of you like that, but it didn’t stop his mind from picturing how you’d feel around him, whether it’d be your soft mouth or sweet cunt. Before he had the chance to battle the moral ethics of it all, he’d be a panting mess, hand wrapped around his thick cock, fervently chasing a state of oblivion until he came hard with thick ropes of cum shooting across his soft belly, leaving him gasping for air.

The first time it happened, he was wracked with guilt for days afterwards, and couldn’t bear to meet your gaze the rest of that week, despite your best efforts to make conversation. He was getting it out of his system, that was all. He wouldn’t do it again. Or so he thought.

The next time he found himself chasing a sordid release was a day you wore your hair in two pigtails adorned with little pretty pink pom-poms.

Jesus Christ, she’s got to be doing this on purpose, right? She’s gotta know she’s being a goddamn tease.

He carried on the lesson as planned, trying to not let it affect him by thinking of dead puppies and suchlike but as soon the opportunity arose during lunch break, he escaped to the male staff toilet, locking himself in the lone cubicle.

It felt wrong, dirty, perverted and it probably was, to be truthful. But the thought of having you, something so forbidden, so illicit, clouded his judgement and made his dick harder. He pushed those criticisms to the back of his mind as he undid his belt and removed his thick, veiny cock from his pants in a swift motion. There was only a short window for him to get this over and done with.

Lazily pumping himself at first with the saliva he’d crudely spat in his hand, he relished in the pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut with sick thoughts of your smaller hand in place of his.

Fucking slut with them lil’ pigtails… she knows what she’s doing… gagging for this fucking cock.

Slow pumps quicken to fervent strokes, fabricated images of you on your knees for him taking him in your sweet mouth flashed in his mind.

Such a pretty girl taking my cock… good girl, that’s it… just like that.

A groan threatened to emerge from his throat and he bit his lip so hard he could taste copper which only spurred him on. Pearls of precum leaked from his slit, languid drops dripping down the head, mixing with his spit, a delicious slick coating his length. That familiar tug in his stomach and twitching dick signalled the beginning of the end, and he had to prop himself up with his other hand against the wall of the cubicle to steady himself as he tugged his cock with reckless abandon.

You want my cum in that pretty little mouth huh?… Fucking take it… F-fuuuuuck.

The peak of his release hit him like a tonne of bricks, blurring his vision. Ropes of cum spilled over the toilet seat and landed inside it with a few crude plops. He stroked his length through the aftershocks, panting and gasping for air, body writhing with oversensitivity. After coming down from the high, he took a moment to realise what he’d just done. Jerked off at the thought of you, a student, in the bathroom like some dirty pervert—fuck’s sake Joel. Shame surged through his veins like heroin, the guilt blooming through his body.

Before Joel could contemplate his actions further, he heard the door of the bathroom slam open. Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck. With great haste, he wiped away the evidence of his sordid release from the seat and flushed it away, wishing he could do the same with the guilt decimating his conscience right now. His hands were trembling as adrenaline merged with shame whilst he tucked himself away, zipping his trousers up and re-buckling his belt. Sweat had made his soft curls adhere to his forehead, his heart beating so hard that he believed it would burst out of his chest at any moment.

In an attempt to keep up appearances, he went to wash his hands and saw the last person he wished to see in a bathroom: Anthony ‘the smallest man that ever lived’ Hall. Joel offered a polite nod, not wishing to converse with the man and washed his hands under the scolding hot tap. It was the least he deserved after the stunt he just pulled.

“Are you okay, Joel? You look a bit out of sorts.” Hall asked with his nasally tone, whilst relieving himself in a urinal. 

“‘M fine, thank you.” Joel’s tone was pointed, hinting that the conversion needed to be over, like yesterday.

Hall didn’t catch the hint, the stupid bastard. “It’s just you look a bit clammy… are you coming down with something?”

Oh, fuck off Anthony, not now.

“No, sir. If anything it’s just a cold.” He lies, anything to get the twat to stop talking to him whilst scrubbing his hands of sin.

“Well stay away from me then, I don’t want your yankee germs.” He guffaws at his own dumb joke. Joel forced a weak laugh out with every fibre of his being as he wrung his hands dry on some paper towel before discarding it in a bin.

Eager to escape the situation, Joel said a curt ‘see you later’ and slipped past before Hall could say anything further to him. He rushes back to his classroom, cheeks flushed, self-contempt coursing throughout his body. He coaches himself through the peril swirling through his mind: Pull yourself together, Joel, this has to stop, she’s just a girl. That’s the last time.

It’s about three days before he is choking his cock again at the thought of you, chasing that debauched oblivion again.

Monday 4th November

11:43am

It’d been a few weeks since Mr Miller promised to talk to Mr Hall about Essay-gate. That was the name you and Chelsea had given the affair; it seemed fitting as you’d learned about the Watergate scandal in the weeks since the incident. You didn’t want to pester him about the outcome of the conversation between the two teachers, fearing that you would be annoying him, but you thought you’d know by now at least.

It surprised you when you would come to find out the conclusion when Mr Miller knocks on the computer room door of your EPQ lesson, asking for you and instructing you to bring your things as you wouldn’t be coming back. You were more than happy to follow him. Quiet elation melts over you, grateful to be missing EPQ, not that you’d be doing a lot anyway apart from dicking around or browsing online. Arriving at his room, he placed your usual chair in front of his plush leather office chair. It feels a little silly but it warms your heart seeing the arrangement of chairs facing one another, a setup becoming all too familiar when you had your chats with the history teacher.

“We gotta stop meeting like this, darlin’,” he jokes teasingly, large hands running through his curls as he relaxes into his plush leather chair. A black button-up shirt hugs his body in all the right ways, emphasising his broad shoulders. The top button is undone, revealing a small birthmark that you long to kiss and nibble on. You laugh, giving him a look of incredulity—amused by his joke and distracted by how striking he looks in black. It almost makes you forget there’s a reason as to why you’re here in the first place.

“So, there’s some good news, and some bad news.” He begins, his large hands laced in one another. “Good news is Mr. Hall decided to re-evaluate your essay thanks to my… suggestion.”

Joel’s use of the word suggestion was a little white lie. He had actually torn Anthony a new one, launching into a scathing critique of the man’s grading, thoroughly deconstructing the other teacher’s justification for the low mark. In the end, it boiled down to Anthony’s preference in writing style, rather than the substance of the essay. His feebled reasoning angered Joel further, almost flying off the handle during the confrontation.

Joel had come well-prepared: leveraging on his past experience as a college and university lecturer and the mark scheme Hall should’ve been using to grade, Joel had compellingly demonstrated that your essay not only met but surpassed the required standards. 

“And the bad news…?” you pry, bracing yourself for the worst.

“The old grade was submitted in the latest data-drop. Admin’s flagged you up for needing extra support in History until the next drop in about 6 weeks.” Joel looks at you carefully, gauging your reaction.

“The fuck?” Fucking Mr Hall causing shit again, goddamn. “Can’t he change it, it’ll literally take a second?”

“I tried, darlin’, but Admin’s locked the drops until the next window and I can’t get access to edit ‘em.”

“Fuck’s sake.” You sigh, swearing under your breath. “So lay it on me, what does this all mean?”

“‘Means that you gotta attend some sessions—like tutoring.”

“Ugh, so I’m stuck with Hall?” The thought of spending any more time than necessary with the man makes your skin crawl.

A quiet grin of delight creeps across Joel’s lips. “We decided that it’d be best for you to work with me, actually.”

Another white lie. When he found out you were getting extra tutoring, he wasted no time going to Admin to make sure you worked with him instead of Hall. Officially, this was justified by the ongoing animosity between the two of you. Unofficially, though, Joel’s real motivation was far more intimate, borderline voracious—he wanted you all to himself and was willing to pull every little string to make it happen. He knew full well you didn’t need the extra help; in fact, he knew you were more than capable. What he really wanted was the chance to be alone with you. He knew he was probably sick for wishing to spend so much time with his barely legal student, but his curiosity of the situation got the better of him. He wanted to see where this, whatever it was, was going and he was strapped in for the ride.

“So ya stuck with me for an extra few hours a week—ain’t you a lucky thing.”

He winks, and your breath catches in your throat. You try to clear it, hoping to disguise your reaction, but Joel is not fooled. He quietly savours the way your reactions betray you each time. He finds it endearing that you think you're discreet, clutching your crush on him like a poker hand, when Joel can see through your cards with ease.

“So how’s this going to work?” You ask after composing yourself, keen to find out the details of the arrangement.

“Hang on, lemme check the email Admin sent me.” He swivels around to his desk and logs into the computer. You notice the way he types, only using his pointer fingers to tap on each key. Such a boomer, you think, quietly laughing to yourself. Joel doesn’t notice, concentrating on hitting the correct key instead. Once logged in, he pulls up the email and reads the screen intently, scanning each line carefully.

“Alrigh’...” he draws out slowly, before turning to you, “according to this, you’ll be able to miss one EPQ lesson and the last 2 hours need to be taken out of your own study periods.” He draws his attention back to the computer, changing the window and revealing a document with a copy of his teaching timetable.

“I’ve got a free period this hour when you’re in EPQ so that could work. And I’m happy to have you in these periods here, here, here or here,” he explains, pointing at the empty cells in the timetable. You get your own timetable up on your phone to compare schedules.

After a lengthy discussion, you both decide that you’ll see him for an hour on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday where your study periods matched with his free ones. Mr Miller emphasises that you could bring any work with you to the sessions, not just History, as he was willing to help where he could. It was so kind of him to offer and it seemed that he genuinely wanted to help you succeed. He even gave you his phone number to contact him with any questions you had. You weren’t sure if he was allowed to do this but you didn’t care. Mr Miller had given you his phone number. You saved it under JM with a little sparkle emoji, concealing his identity in case of prying eyes.

The first text you sent at home that night was simple, yet your hands trembled as you typed and deleted it over and over, not wanting to sound like an idiot.

Thanks for agreeing to help me, I appreciate it :) just texting so you have my number too

After sending the message you buried the phone under your pillow, too anxious to watch and linger, waiting for his response. You’re surprised when his reply comes back within a few minutes.

my pleasure, darlin. can’t wait for our first proper session on wednesday. X

The message, punctuated by a kiss at the end, sends your heart into a flutter. You remind yourself he probably sends texts like that to everyone, not just you. Then, a second message arrives with a buzz, startling you and causing you to nearly drop your phone.

don’t forget the watergate worksheet tomorrow—ya gonna regret letting me have ur number when I’m nagging ya for homework haha. X

You begin to type with haste. Your fingers hover over the x key, debating on whether to return the gesture. Fuck it. No harm done, it’s just a letter after all.

Hahaha I won’t. See you tomorrow x

Within a minute, his response arrives.

see ya then. sweet dreams, darlin. X

You decide to leave it there and head to bed. As you slip into sleep, Mr Miller haunts your dreams: his rugged face, strong hands, broad shoulders, and deep caramel eyes are a tantalising vision. That night is the first of many dreams you have about him, leaving your soft folds drenched with longing when you wake.

Wednesday 20th November

12:31pm

The arrangement of additional tutoring worked out well. You got to miss an hour of EPQ and you were able to spend even more time with your favourite teacher. During the sessions, you were able to get your college work done whilst getting to know more about Mr Miller.

In your exchanges, you find out he grew up in Austin, Texas, with his younger brother Tommy. Tommy, a soldier turned contractor, founded Miller’s Construction after an honourable discharge from the US Army at 23. Mr Miller would help Tommy out during grad school summer breaks and whenever money was tight. Despite the long, gruelling days under the hot Texan sun, he enjoyed the hands-on work, something different from the realm of academia he found himself in. He’d graduated with a respectable bachelor's degree at 22 and then pursued a master's in American History and Politics. Working as a teacher’s aide during his master's program had ignited his interest in teaching, leading him to take up lecturing positions at community colleges and universities around Texas after grad school. Eventually, seeking new opportunities, he moved to the UK, where he worked at several universities. However, the insecurity of temporary contracts pushed him to switch to the further education sector, seeking the stability of a full-time salary. And that’s how he found himself teaching at your college.

You’re mesmerised by how he recounts his life—his eyes gleam with fondness when he speaks of Tommy, his voice comes alive as he recalls the wild nights in Austin with his younger brother when he was home from service, and he speaks openly about his initial fears of leaving home. Getting to know Mr. Miller on such an intimate level feels like a breath of fresh air; teachers often seem like distant robots, detached from their true selves. You never quite understood why.

Today’s session is like any other. After a long double period of English, you find your way to his classroom. He looks up as you enter, greeting you with a warm, inviting smile that makes the day’s stress melt away.

“Hey, ya ready for our session?” he smiles, that kind expression always so infectious that you felt your own lips curling.

“Gimme a sec, I just had back-to-back English and my brain feels like jelly. Who knew Shakespeare’s sonnets could be so confusing.” You sigh in exasperation, dropping your heavy bag on the desk closest to Mr. Miller’s with a thump. Rifling through it, you find your notebook and pencil case, then shuffle through the notebook for your university entrance essay drafts. With the UCAS deadline steadily approaching, you’re anxious to finish. You’re on what feels like the zillionth draft, and it’s driving you crazy. Mr. Miller noticed your frustration during your last tutoring session and encouraged you to bring it along this time so he could help. How kind of him.

You hand the drafts to Mr. Miller, who spends a few minutes reading through them, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. You watch him anxiously, your heart racing, as he writes comments in the margins. After what feels like an eternity, he hands the pages back to you. Your heart flutters at the sight of his positive feedback, the final comment punctuated with a smiley face: ‘This is great, darlin’, keep it up :)’

Warm stirs in your chest as you read over the comments, a coy smile tugging on your lips and you find yourself giddy with elation. 

“Happy?” he muses, quietly pleased with your reaction. He felt good about making you happy, you deserve it after all considering the essay fiasco with Mr Hall.

“Yeah,” you respond, drawing your eyes away from the pages to meet his eyes, “I just had one question.”

His brow furrows, a little confused. “Sure, darlin’, shoot.”

“Why is it that you always call me dawrl-lin’?” you imitated his Texan drawl, narrowing your eyes. The nickname had intrigued you and you never heard him call anyone else so why not ask?

“Now, that was a terrible impression, ya need to stay in your lane.” He chortles at your inquisitiveness.

He pauses before revealing his answer.

“I only call pretty girls darlin’,” a smirk flashes on his lips, before realising what he’s implied and its implications. You feel your breath catch in the back of your throat and you suddenly feel hot.

Shit, he thinks, chastising himself. Y’done gone and crossed the line, you fuckin’ tool.

“It’s a-a Texas thing,” he attempts to justify himself, lying through his teeth. Joel's eyes widened like a deer in headlights. His mind was racing with the consequences of his behaviour. Reported. Investigated. Suspended without pay. Fired. Blacklisted from teaching. All because he couldn’t stop himself from running his mouth trying to flirt with you, and forgetting himself.

“‘m sorry if I was making you uncomfortable. I can stop if you wanna.”

In truth he didn’t wish to stop. He wished to whisper it over and over whilst he ravished your body, nibbling, biting, kissing you all over.

“It's okay, Mr Miller. I kinda like it,” you smile, glancing back at your work. You didn’t just like it though, you loved it. Texas thing or not, you were quietly delighted he’d given you a pet name that was reserved for you. He sounded so seductive whenever he called you darlin’ during class, in the corridors in between lessons, or during your one-on-ones, he had to know what he was doing, surely.

Every time darlin’ passes his lips, without fail, knots form in your tummy, affecting your ability to concentrate on occasion. Sometimes, when you were on your own late at night, save for the company of a bullet vibrator attached to your clit, the wicked imaginings of Mr Miller could and would often throw you over the precipice of bliss. You imagine him whispering darlin’ and sweet nothings in your ear whilst his calloused fingers skillfully worked with your clit before devouring your pussy as if he were starved. The thoughts of him leave you a shaking mess, forcing yourself to stifle any moans and gasps with the palm of your hand as the waves of illicit bliss ripple through you, making your cunt flutter with pleasure as you tease your sensitive bud through the aftershocks. You always felt a little shameful after the fact, unable to hold his gaze the morning after, the thoughts of Mr Miller ravishing your body still raw in your mind from the night before.

“That’s alrigh’ then. We’ll keep it that way,” he replies, quietly relieved.

She’s not gonna snitch on me, he thinks.

What a good girl.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, I love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!💞