agustina

💫21 argentina

[witchywithwhiskey]

baking spooky sprinkle cookies with your clingy orc best friend

pairing: orc!bestfriend!bucky barnes x human!female reader

summary: your orc best friend is clingy, and when you invite him over for your annual halloween movie marathon, the innocent touches you've grown used to turn into something more.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), monsterfucking/teratophilia, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, orgasm delay, slight come inflation, multiple orgasms, an absurd amount of cockwarming, light bondage/restraints through body harness, size kink/size difference, brief breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, very light degradation kink, pet names (baby doe, pet), friends to lovers, happy ending

word count: 5,000

a/n: my first halloween fic of 2025 is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Orctober challenge!! i used the prompts "size difference" and "baking comfort foods" and combined it with my favorite-favorite trope of friends-to-lovers. i may have written plenty of friends-to-lovers fics with Bucky, but this one is slightly different because he's an orc 😅 anyway, hope y'all enjoy!!

halloween fics masterlist

When you befriended the orc that had moved to your small town—the first monster to do so—it had seemed like everyone needed to warn you about what could happen. Some cautioned that orcs were quick to anger, while others insisted they had a cruel streak.

Then there had been the groups of middle-aged women who, with eyes as wide as saucers, asked you in hushed tones about what would happen if, god forbid, he forced you to carry his children.

They warned you that you’d never recover. 

As gently as you could, you’d assure them you were just friends—keeping to yourself that you secretly wished you could be more with your orc best friend.

It was tedious, listening to the town and their outdated ideas. Thankfully, as the months and years went by, the warnings waned. Meanwhile, you grew closer with your best friend, and you learned something nobody had warned you about: Orcs were clingy.

Or maybe that was just your orc best friend, Bucky Barnes.

It seemed like he couldn’t go five minutes without touching you, whether that was settling one of his big hands on the small of your back while the two of you wandered through the town’s harvest festival. Or the way he hooked his heavy arm around your shoulders and tucked you into his side when you went out for drinks with friends.

Truthfully, you hadn’t realized how touch-starved you were until you’d met Bucky. You enjoyed the brush of his warm palms, the teasing touch of his ghosting fingers and the steady weight of his heavy hands too much to tell him to stop. 

It helped that Bucky’s touches were always innocent. His hands never drifted anywhere inappropriate, and it never felt like he was trying to coax you into something more. Even though sometimes you wished he would.

Still, as innocent as it was, Bucky’s wandering hands often drove you to distraction. While you’d accepted it as part of your life with him, and you enjoyed having the clingy orc as your best friend, it could be inconvenient at times.

Case in point: It was the morning of your annual Halloween movie marathon, and you were busy in the kitchen of your little cottage on the edge of town, trying to bake some spooky sprinkle cookies. 

Bucky had arrived bright and early, a tray of hot, steaming coffee and a bag of pastries in hand, to “help” you with the task. However, all he’d managed to do was finish his own drink in record time and stand behind you with his hands on your hips while he watched over your shoulder as you measured out ingredients.

The problem was his hands didn’t stay still. His fingers slipped beneath your sweater, pressing into the warm skin of your belly above the hem of your leggings, and the feeling was so surprising, so distracting—so good—that your hands shook and you spilled flour all over the countertop.

“Bucky,” you whined, staring at the wreckage in front of you and huffing an annoyed breath. “You know the rules,” you began, shooting a glare over your shoulder at the big orc. “Keep your hands on the outside of my clothes while I’m handling easily spillable things.”

You grabbed his thick wrist—not for the first time marveling over the fact that your fingers didn’t even come close to closing around it—and yanked his hand out from under your sweater. Out of habit, you set his palm back on your hip and grabbed a damp kitchen towel to begin cleaning up.

Bucky, at least, had the decency to look chastened. He plucked the towel from your hand, sweeping the loose flour into his palm while you lifted your mixing bowl.

“I’m sorry, baby doe, I wasn’t thinking,” Bucky murmured, his tusks protruding more as he pouted a little.

Heaving a sigh, you let the frustration dissolve as you exhaled, and you gave him a smile. It was impossible to stay mad at your best friend when he sounded so remorseful—and when he helped you clean up the messes he caused you to make.

“I forgive you, just try to be careful, Buck, please,” you said, turning back to your mixing bowl and beginning to sift flour in again.

Bucky slid in behind you, and you paused, waiting for him to get comfortable. He wrapped his thick arms around your front and tucked his chin on top of your head, rumbling a pleased sound in his chest. You could practically see the contented smile on his face.

Only once he’d settled did you continue what you were doing, muttering, “Sometimes, I think you’d live inside me if I let you.”

Your words had a sudden, and more severe effect on your best friend than you’d anticipated.

Bucky’s arms tightened, his whole body going taut, and he rumbled a deep sound in his chest, almost like a purr. Desire slid like warm chocolate down your spine, and you quickly set your sifter aside before you could make another mess.

“Don’t tempt me, baby doe.” 

You went still, confused by the shift in the mood of the room and what you’d done to cause it. You’d worked hard to keep your feelings for Bucky bottled up, but it felt like you’d accidentally let some spill free along with the flour. It also felt like he might return your feelings.

“Wha-what do you mean?” 

As if to explain, Bucky pressed his hips flush to your body, and you felt the thick ridge of his cock dig into your lower back. He was so hot and hard, you gasped, gripping the edge of the counter and instinctively pushing up onto your tiptoes to press your ass into him.

“Buck.” His name on your lips was a pitiful whine, dissolving into a wanton moan when he lifted you off your feet, slotting his cock between the cheeks of your ass through your leggings. 

“I’d love to live inside you, baby doe,” Bucky murmured. “I dream about it—dream about having you impaled on my cock, strapped to the front of my body to keep you there, while I go about my day.”

Your best friend rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock into your ass, and all you could do was tilt your head to the side, giving Bucky access to press wet, suckling kisses down the line of your neck. When he nipped you teasingly with his tusks, you mewled desperately. 

“I want to make you my permanent, pretty little cocksleeve, pet,” Bucky went on, his voice growing deeper and darker, his hands beginning to wander, groping your soft curves as he spoke. “Want you to be so used to being full of my cock, it feels strange when I’m not inside you.”

“Oh—oh my god,” you gasped, heart racing in your chest. Heat suffused your body so thoroughly, you had the distant, wild thought that you’d left the oven on too long. “We’re just friends,” you said dumbly, knowing even as you said the words that they were a far-cry from the simple truth. “We don’t do that.”

“But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?” he murmured teasingly in your ear, and the heat in your body rose to your cheeks. “You’ve thought about what it would be like for me to slide my thick, orc cock into your sweet little human pussy.”

He said the words so assuredly, you wanted to proest—but you couldn’t. Because it’d be a lie. 

Of course, you’d thought about it. Of course, you’d thought about being with Bucky. He was so kind and considerate, and so big, you couldn’t help but be curious…

“I’ve thought about it endlessly, baby doe,” Bucky confessed. One of his hands drifted down to your belly, until his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your mound over your leggings. “I’ve thought about filling you with my seed, about you growing round with my youngling.”

A tremor of desire shivered down your spine, your nipples tightening with need beneath your sweater. Leaning into Bucky’s hulking form, your head fell back against his shoulder, letting his voice flow over you.

“I can smell the way you slicken when the townsfolk try to warn you away from me,” he rumbled, his fingers teasing the waist of your leggings. “I’ve tried to be patient and wait for you to come to me, but I’m losing my mind here, baby doe. Tell me I’m not alone—please.”

Bucky’s final word sounded like it was ripped from the very depths of his soul, and it cracked you open.

A helpless, pitiful whimper slipped from your lips and you shuddered in your best friend’s arms as you let yourself feel everything you’d stuffed down deep for so long.

“Bucky,” you started, turning in his arms to face him. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you wound your arms around his neck, practically climbing his massive body to look him in the eye. “You’re not alone—I feel it, too.”

“That’s my girl,” Bucky murmured seconds before capturing your lips in a kiss. 

All the emotion you’d bottled up surged forward, rushing to the surface, and you kissed Bucky with all that you had, your best friend meeting you with his infinite passion and desire. For long, blissful moments, you reveled in each other, exalting in the joy of finally coming together.

When you nipped at Bucky’s lower lip, he chuckled deep in his chest, sending delightful shivers of pleasure down your spine to settle heavily between your thighs. And when you ran your tongue teasingly over his tusks, he groaned so deep, you felt yourself growing obscenely wet, your body aching to be filled.

“Are you going to let me have you, baby doe? Are you going to let me touch you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming about for years?”

“God, Bucky, yes, please,” you gasped. “I’m yours, touch me however you want. Just fill me up. Please.”

The orc let out a low groan, ducking down to grab you around the backs of your thighs. He hauled you up until your legs circled his waist, your center settling deliciously against the impossibly thick girth in his pants.

“We’ll get there, but it’s going to take some work, baby doe,” Bucky murmured, carrying you out of the kitchen and into your living room. He sank down onto your orc-sized couch, pulling you on top of him.

Your thighs were spread obscenely wide across Bucky’s lap, his massive bulge hot and hard against your already drenched core. You were so distracted by the devastatingly perfect feel of him, of his mouth on your skin as he kissed your jaw, that it took a moment to understand his words.

“What do you mean work?”

A husky chuckle ghosted over your neck and you shivered. Bucky grabbed your hips and dragged your slit slowly up and down the imposingly long ridge of his cock.

“Feel that, pet?” Bucky rumbled in your ear, his voice gruff with desire. “It’s all for you, but we gotta make sure you’re ready for me, yeah? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Your pussy gave a hungry pulse, and a soft, needy whimper slipped from your lips. Your fingers curled into claws in his t-shirt, tugging uselessly at the fabric that was in the way.

“Want to feel you, Buck—really feel you.”

Your eyes found his, pleading wordlessly with your best friend. His hands slid beneath your sweater again, dragging the hem up until it snagged on the lower curves of your breasts. He paused, raising his brows in a silent question, and you nodded eagerly.

Agonizingly slowly, Bucky undressed you, a reverence in his gaze as he peeled away the layers of your clothes like he was unwrapping the most precious of gifts. When your sweater and bra were discarded, he hauled you up his chest so that he could lavish your tits in worshipping, suckling kisses. 

The orc rumbled a groan deep in his chest as he sucked on your nipples, the vibrations reverberating delightfully through your body until you were grinding down on his stomach. You could feel the hard-packed muscle beneath a layer of softness, and it drove you wild, humping against Bucky like he was a firm pillow between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby doe, I can feel how wet you are,” Bucky muttered, his words muffled against your bare skin. 

When you looked down, sure enough, you’d left a wet spot on his sweater, the fabric dark with your arousal. Heat rose to your cheeks and you covered your face in embarrassment, mumbling a scandalized, “Ohmygod.”

But Bucky only chuckled, gently prying your hands away from your face and bringing your mouth to his for a sweet, slow kiss. You melted into him, your arms winding around his shoulders, fingers carding lazily through his soft hair. 

“Should I take my shirt off, baby doe, let you really mark me with your scent?” Bucky teased, his tusks practically twitching with mirth as he tried to keep the smirk off his face. 

“Mean,” was all you said before kissing him again. “But yes, take your shirt off.”

Another laugh rumbled in Bucky’s chest but he did as you asked. In half the time it had taken Bucky to strip you of your sweater, he undressed himself and the rest of you. When you settled back on his lap, it was skin-to-skin and the sheer heat of him—the delicious scent of him, like earth and air—was so overwhelming, you moaned loudly. 

Bucky captured your mouth in a decadent kiss, swallowing down your sounds of pleasure as he rearranged the two of you on the couch. He reclined into the cushions, half-laying down while you sprawled on top of him, the monstrous ridge of his cock wedged between your thighs. 

When you broke from the kiss to catch your breath, you couldn’t help but satisfy your curiosity, casting your gaze down between your bodies to Bucky’s cock. When you saw him, your eyes went wide—not from fear or apprehension, but from excitement.

“Don’t worry, baby doe, it’ll fit,” Bucky murmured, misinterpreting your expression. He brushed a soothing kiss to your temple.

You gave an impolite snort and looked at your best friend. “Oh, I know it will,” you said, a smirk curling the edges of your mouth. “It’ll just take some work, right, Buck?” you asked teasingly, but you didn’t give your best friend a chance to answer.

Planting your hands on Bucky’s pecs, you rolled your hips in a slow, delicious slide, dragging your wet pussy up and down the shaft of his cock. Your lower lips were split obscenely wide around his thick girth, but you were so wet, dripping with so much arousal, that it wasn’t long before you were coating him in your desire.

“Jesus—fuck, you feel so good leaking all over my cock,” Bucky growled, his blue eyes dark like an autumn night as he watched your pussy grind against his cock. “Good girl, get me all nice and slick—it’ll make it so much easier to stuff your sweet little human cunt full of my fat cock.”

“Oh god,” you cried, your entire body shuddering with want. Before you could think to stop them, words tumbled from your lips. “I want your cock so bad, Buck, want you to split me open, want you to ruin me for anyone else.”

“Baby doe.” The pet named was a guttural growl, and when you glanced up at Bucky’s handsome face, you found him staring at you like you’d hung the moon in the sky. “You’ve already ruined me for anyone else.”

Your mouth dropped open at the confession, but your best friend wasn’t done.

“I’ll never want anyone else but you, baby doe,” Bucky rumbled, his voice laced with emotion. “You’re the perfect mate for me, and you can have me however you want me—whether it’s as friends, or something more. My heart and soul are yours.” 

“Oh Bucky,” you cried, dragging his face to yours for a kiss. You kissed his passionately, letting him feel every bit of the love and devotion filling your chest. “I’m yours, Buck, I’m all yours—forever,” you promised, gasping for breath as you stared into his sapphire eyes. 

“Mine,” Bucky growled, his gaze darkening with a possessiveness that called to something deep in your soul. You grinned at your best friend—your mate—and echoed the word back to him.

“Mine.”

Before Bucky could capture you again in another long, heated kiss, you sat back, lifting up until the tip of his cock nudged at the tight, dripping hole between your thighs. The orc snarled hungrily, his hands grabbing your hips and helping to line you up. 

Holding Bucky’s gaze, you began to lower yourself on his cock, gasping when the blunt tip pushed into your tight channel. 

“Oh god,” you mumbled, eyes rolling back in your head at the sheer stretch of him. He was so big that you were panting, your cunt throbbing with pleasure. 

“Take it slow, pet, relax—don’t hurt yourself,” Bucky warned, and you blinked until you could focus on him again. 

It was grounding, staring into the eyes of your best friend, of the orc who knew you better than anyone else in the world. When the sting between your thighs eased, you lifted up, feeling the tip of Bucky’s cock pop free from your hole; then you pressed down again, taking another delicious inch of him.

“Good girl,” Bucky rumbled, his eyes going dark and hooded as he watched you. His gaze was admiring as it swept down your body, lingering on your curves. “You look so fucking gorgeous taking my cock, I could watch you all day.”

You huffed a half-hysterical laugh. “It better not take that long to make it fit,” you quipped breathlessly, rising up and sinking down on him again, taking even more. “God, Bucky, you’re so big,” you whined, tears springing to your lashes.

When you blinked the tears from your eyes, you found Bucky smirking smugly at you, his tusks proudly on display. 

“Want some help, baby doe?” he asked, his voice dripping with so much male satisfaction, you had to roll your eyes. “Want me to stuff that tight little cunt with my big cock?”

A soft, keening moan slipped from your lips, and your pussy pulsed around Bucky’s hardness, even more wetness gushing from your dripping hole. You couldn’t hide your body’s reaction, and he chuckled, sounding even more delightfully satisfied.  

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Still, Bucky paused, his gaze catching yours as he waited for your assent. You nodded your head, feeling a bit like a bobblehead, and urged him to take over.

Your best friend’s big hands cupped your ass, using his considerable strength to lift you up and pull you back down on his cock, inching deeper. Bucky spent long, luxurious minutes working his thick cock into your pussy, the delicious torture of him stretching you open seeming to go on forever.

All the while, he kept up a litany of praise, cooing about how good you were doing for him, how you were taking his cock so prettily. And when the tears that caught in your lashes splashed onto your cheeks, he tipped your face toward his so he could kiss them away. 

It was so perfect, you almost never wanted it to end. But there was an insatiable creature buried deep in your bones, and it craved the feeling of taking Bucky to the root. You needed to be full of him, to be so filled by your best friend’s cock that it left no room for doubt about who you belonged to.

“Almost there,” the orc purred after what seemed like an endless age. He kissed your bee-stung lips, his tusks nipping playfully before he pulled back to look at you. “You can take me all the way, can’t you, baby doe? You can take every inch of my cock?” 

“I can take it,” you said, hiccuping a sob while your hands gripped his bulging biceps. “Give it to me, Buck, gimme your whole cock. Stuff me full, show me I was made to take your cock.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with something feral, and in the next moment he was biting out a command, “Deep breath, baby.” He waited until you filled your lungs with air, and then he yanked you down on his lap until your ass was flush with his tree-trunk thighs.

A piercing scream ripped from your lips, filling the cozy living room of your cottage as your mind went blank and pleasure—sharp and so deliciously sweet—tore through your body. There was an edge of stinging pain that cast the pleasure in much starker relief, overwhelming you as you succumbed to sensation.

It wasn’t until a moment later, when you crashed back into your body, that you realized you were coming. Your scream had dissolved into ragged, helpless sobs, and you shook violently against Bucky’s barrel chest, his sturdy arms wrapped around your body, one hand petting your back while the other held you on his lap.

“That’s my girl, so perfect, such a perfect mate, coming on my cock,” he rumbled, his voice growly and breathless in equal measure. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby doe—can feel your precious cunt gripping my cock like she never wants to let me go.”

“Never,” you gasped, echoing a word that you felt in your soul was important. “Never let me go, Buck.” 

“Never,” he promised, tipping your face toward his for a tender kiss.

For a long while, you simply kissed, enjoying the feeling of being joined together in the most physically intimate way possible. 

When you broke away for some air, you looked down your body, and noticed a slight bulge in your belly where Bucky’s cock was seated deep inside you. Your fingertips danced over the bump, your eyes wide with wonder.

A low chuckle came from Bucky, and he pressed his big palm against your stomach, making your cunt impossibly tighter around his cock. You felt him twitch, your body giving an answering clench as you moaned wantonly.

“This is where I belong,” Bucky murmured, ducking down and planting a kiss to the apple of your cheek, making you smile at the brush of his tusks. “Buried inside my sweet little baby doe. I’m going to stay right here as long as you’ll let me.”

You smiled dreamily at your orc, laying your hand over the back of his and pressing his palm more firmly against your belly. “You can stay as long as you want—as long as you fuck me first,” you sassed.

“Is that a new rule?” Bucky shot back, a feral grin stealing across his face. 

Before you could answer, he was moving. Cupping your ass, Bucky lifted you up until only the tip of him remained inside, then pulled you back down hard his cock.

An obscene cry spilled from your lips, your mind going blank as every bit of your being focused on the pleasure of his thick, veiny length dragging against your sensitive inner walls. It was almost too much, and yet not enough because you wanted more of that sensation—you were ravenous for it.

“More,” you sobbed, “please!”

Bucky grunted and set to work bouncing you on his cock, working you up and down his shaft like you were his own personal fuck toy. It was so absurdly hot that all you could do was sit pretty on his cock, your gaze flying between his savage expression and the sight of his cock bulging in your belly.

“Rub your pearl, baby doe,” Bucky growled. “Oh fuck, ‘m gonna come, and I want to feel you milking my cock.”

Your fingers slid between your thighs, finding your achy, swollen clit. It only took a few strokes to get you to the edge and you opened your mouth to tell Bucky you were close. But before you could, he surged up from below, the tip of his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that had you seeing stars.

You came again with another wailing scream, so suddenly that your sound of pleasure cut off on a vicious gasp. Tremors shook your entire body and it was only Bucky’s hands that kept you upright and impaled on his cock.

Your orc rutted into you from below, his dark blue gaze fixed on your face, watching as every bit of pleasure washed over your features. His expression was twisted with his own desire, his tusks bared and his nostrils flaring as he pounded into you. 

With a ferocious roar, Bucky threw his head back and his entire body went taut as he yanked you down hard on his cock. The sight of him coming was glorious, all corded muscle and barely-leashed, monstrous strength, his hips still working instinctively as his cock twitched in your cunt.

Your orc spilled rope after rope of thick come into your pussy, flooding your body until it was overflowing, leaking out around the edges of his fat cock. 

Once he eased down from his peak, Bucky gathered you up in his arms, guiding you to sprawl across his chest while his palms skated along your skin, touching you wherever he could reach. With a happy hum, you settled on top of him, enjoying the feeling of his touch even more when your body was loose and sated.

“Baby doe?” Bucky asked after a while, a hint of tentativeness in his tone. You hummed, encouraging him to go on. “Were you serious about letting me stay inside you as long as I want?”

“Mm,” you murmured, rousing yourself from the edge of sleep to lift your head and pout at Bucky. “I was, but I still want to bake those spooky sprinkle cookies for our movie night later.”

Something sparked in Bucky’s eye and a smirk spread slowly across his handsome face. “What if I told you I had something to let us do both?”

It turned out, orcs were clingy—and not just your best friend. 

So much so that someone had invented a type of harness to allow orcs to keep their partners strapped to their chests, and impaled on their cocks, while giving them the freedom to do other things.

It was easier to get into the adjustable harness than you would’ve expected, though Bucky did all the work. He slid you into the stiff leather, promising to get you a new one tailor-made to your bodies as soon as possible. 

Your orc was careful as he impaled you on his cock again, but it took much less effort, your pussy already stretched to accommodate his massive length.

A soft moan slipped from your lips when Bucky stood once the harness was secured. You were strapped tightly to his barrel chest, your legs supported by the harness and slung over his hips, leaving his hands free.

When he began to walk to your kitchen, Bucky’s cock shifted inside you and you mewled happily, feeling your pussy gush and clench around him.

Stroking a hand down your spine, Bucky purred, “Does that feel good, baby doe?”

You hummed a happy, dreamy, “Yeah,” and settled your cheek against Bucky’s sternum, enjoying the scent of his musk, the warmth of his skin, and the steady beating of his heart.

Dropping a kiss to the top of your head, Bucky rumbled a pleased sound as he came to a stop in your kitchen. “Now, tell me how to make these cookies—we can’t have our Halloween movie marathon without them.”

For the rest of the morning, and into the early afternoon, you guided Bucky through the recipe, watching over your shoulder. All the while, you enjoyed the feeling of being split open on your orc’s cock, and pressed tightly against his chest, so much of your bare skin touching his that you felt settled in a way that was bone-deep.

Bucky’s heart was a steady companion, beating rhythmically in your ear, letting you know just how happy he was to have you close.

Every once in a while, Bucky would roll his hips, driving his cock deep for a delicious moment, making you moan for him before he returned to his task. By the time the last batch of cookies were out of the oven, you were begging him to fuck you again. 

The two of you took a break while you ate lunch, then snuggled on the couch together. When you got sleepy, you laid down with Bucky, and he worked himself inside you. You took a short nap while Bucky watched some old Halloween favorites, waking up in time for the true spooky movie marathon to begin.

Bucky grunted every time one of the jump scares got you, feeling your body clench down on his cock. Your shrieks of terror dissolved into moans when he fucked you, slow and sweet, only letting you come when the movie ended.

By the end of the night, Bucky had buried so many loads in you, your belly bulged a little. He teased you with the idea of planting his seed in your womb, and watching you grow swollen with his youngling—though, since you were on birth control, it wasn’t likely to happen. 

Still, the idea made both of you equally feral.

Eventually, you and Bucky fell asleep on the couch together, your pussy stuffed full of your orc’s cock, while movies played on the TV.

It wasn’t the day you’d expected to have when you’d invited Bucky Barnes over for your anual Halloween movie night, but baking spooky sprinkle cookies with your clingy orc best friend while impaled on his cock turned out to be one of the best days of your life. 

And it was only the beginning.

halloween fics masterlist

[mirrormauve]

—cherry; series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!sex worker!reader

summary: Lonely, widowed, Joel seeks company where he knows he shouldn't.

series status: in progress, Updates on Tuesdays usually around 4/5PM EST!

general series warnings, please see each chapter's individual warnings for a complete list: age gap (20s/50s), smut (in most, probably all, chapters), reader is a sex worker, misogyny, smoking (reader and joel), internalized shame, poverty and issues and dangers that come along with that

a/n: this fic is my baby, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I've never preplanned a series and had the parts completed or mostly completed before publishing it before. maybe I was being a little selfish in keeping them to myself. updates every tuesday <3

chapters below the cut:

cherry ; Lonely, widowed, Joel seeks company where he knows he shouldn't.

late nights ; You never expect Joel to come back, let alone to search for you.

offers ; Joel comes back to you like clockwork. He has a proposition for you.

resolve ; Joel gives you a credit card. You're hesitant to use it.

[babyjakes]

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summary | loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

characters | caretaker!jake jensen, daddy!ari levinson, wrenley beauchamp (original character)

warnings | mentions/depictions of domestic and sexual violence, mental health themes: anxiety/panic disorders, trauma and post-traumatic-stress, eating disorders (restrictive subtype), therapeutic methods and tools: exposure, age regression. specific warnings included in each chapter

series sections | this series includes two sections. the main series, composed of full-length chapters, will tell the characters’ story of meeting, bonding, facing adversity and challenges, and becoming a family in chronological order, as a traditional chapter book would. egem: little life will be a collection of one shots, blurbs, and headcanons capturing various events and moments throughout the characters’ lives together. please feel free to read these sections in whatever order you’d like; it’s recommended to read at least some of the main series first to grow familiar with the characters, setting, context, etc.

sexual content | egem: little life will include a section of works that explore wren healing her sexual trauma through safe sexual relations with jake and ari. these sexual themes will be limited to safe/consensual sex only (no dark elements, non/dubcon, etc.— though these will appear in the main series as a part of wren’s traumatic experiences, with plenty of trigger warnings included.) works including sexual relations between wren, jake, and ari will be listed in their own section of the masterlist, and all clearly marked as nsfw. please feel free to skip these pieces entirely. they will not impact the overall storyline; therefore, one can read everything else and experience wren’s relationship with jake and ari as completely sfw if they wish.

main series chapters.

1. prologue | 2. the little garden fairy | 3. baby steps | 4. difficult introductions

headcanons.

wren's pink bathroom

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snow white

kinktober, day fifteen

a/n: i really wanted to play around with a fairytale this kinktober season and i came up with maybe too many ideas for a bunch of different ones, but this one just stuck with me for months, so i had to go with this one.

summary: that was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

warnings: snow white!reader x various, dark!prince!billy russo, miners!steve rogers, bucky barnes, thor odinson, miguel o'hara, marc spector, matt murdock, frank castle, dark content, smut, fairytale retelling, innocent!reader, references to loss of virginity, arranged engagement, assassination attempt, violence, poison apple, kidnapping, somno, polyamory, reverse harem, time jump (for domestic and slutty purposes), kissing, fingering, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, overstimulation, oral, handjob, squirting, multiple orgasms, gangbang, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, unprotected sex, creampie, dark ending

word count: 6746

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masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2024

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. 

You, to be exact. 

However, your day-to-day life, that wasn’t a part of you that one could define as something very regal, not lately, not since your father had died and left you in the hands of his late wife, a vain woman he had only married a short time prior to his passing. 

There wasn’t much you were allowed to do any longer as your stepmother was perhaps a bit too overprotective of you in her own cold way, even though many of the chores the sea of servants that buzzed within the castle took care of, that for some reason wasn’t off limits to you, if not encouraged by the queen. 

But it was all out of love, wasn’t it? 

“Oh, there you are!” your gaze fluttered up to find the prim and familiar figure stalking towards you in the gardens, “what in the world are you doing out by this ghastly old well?”

“Prince William,” you stiffened up slightly at his presence and swiftly did a curtsy, “w-what are you doing here?” 

“Ah, come on, Snow,” his palm brushed against the edge of the stone well, briefly cleaning it a bit before he leaned against it, “how many times do I have to tell you to call me Billy?” 

“Your Highness,” you swallowed nervously, “I’m just not sure that would be completely appropriate. You deserve to be paid with the utmost respect.” 

“Oh, I agree,” a sly smirk slithered across his chiselled features, “though, I do think my fiancé should be allowed just a little leniency.” 

“Oh,” you put on a smile for the royal, “you got engaged? Congratulations! Is it to someone I know?” 

“I’d sure hope so,” he grinned, and the next words that rolled off his tongue caused your face to drop, “it’s you.”

Blinking back at him, you couldn’t help but flinch as he stepped to get closer to you.

“…excuse me?” you breathed, your hand fluttering up to the neckline of your modest gown as you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest.

“We’re to be married,” he caught your hand and kept on smiling, “I just sorted the last of the details out with your mother a few moments ago.” 

“Stepmother,” you corrected him hazily before uttering, “I–… how come I didn’t know about any of this? Why didn’t anyone think to ask me what I wanted?” 

Billy’s face then scrunched up at your question, as if it was the strangest of reactions to have at such news, “well you know now.” 

“That’s–,” you stared back at him, your eyes wide and horrified before you ripped your arm back out of his hold, “no.”

“What?” 

“No, I don’t wanna marry you,” the words flowed out of your lungs. 

But to your astonishment, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom then only chuckled, “what do you mean you don’t want to marry me? Of course you do, everyone does.”

“Well, I don’t.” 

Slowly, he seized your arm in a bruising grip before inching closer to you and leaning down to sternly whisper in your ear, “you better get rid of this attitude before you become my wife.”

The following week when the queen suggested that you go for a walk through the nearby woods, an activity you’d formerly thought to be banned as all your previous pleas throughout the years had failed, you nearly stumbled as you rushed to accept the opportunity. 

Where this newfound kindness had come from that you had no clue of, though you weren’t going to argue now as the chains around you slowly began to slacken. 

The queen’s protective nature for you stayed fast however when she sent a guard to accompany you, though one you’d never encountered before as you spent so much time in the castle that you knew all of the others by name. Perhaps he was just new? 

Though when you eventually came upon a clearing and you decided to take a small break in that peaceful and serene glen, it all changed so quickly that you nearly got whiplash. 

One moment, you were grinning up at the treetops, whistling back to the birds building a nest up there, and the next, the guard shadowing you had raised a dagger up high and lunged it down upon you. Thankfully, luck was for once on your side and you managed to twist just enough for it to miss your sternum and instead slice through your sleeve and cut your shoulder. 

When you tried to run, a shrill scream erupting your frame, the knight caught your arm before you could manage to escape.

Though just as all hope seemed lost, when the dappled sunlight caught and reflected in the shiny blade as he rose it back up high, it never pierced your heart as a pickaxe instead suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, flying through the air and lodging itself right above the guard’s brow. 

He stayed standing for a second, blood trickling down his face, before the warrior’s body fell backwards and collapsed on the forest floor. 

Your frame shook like a leaf on the wind as you stood there, eyes wide with horror, watching his brain leak and stain the moss below your feet. 

“Are you alright, my lady?” a deep voice called from behind you, though it still took you a moment before you were able to rip yourself out of your petrified state. 

As you slowly twisted around, you saw seven men standing at the edge of the clearing, all of them except the blonde one in the middle with a pickaxe clutched in their hands. 

“Are you hurt?” the miner missing his tool spoke again, taking a ginger step closer. 

Still reeling, unable to fathom that you nearly just lost your life, you blinked, “I–… I–…” though just continued to stand there, frozen in the middle of the storm. 

“You’re bleeding,” a dark-haired man further down the line uttered before the muddled confusion that bloomed on your horrified features caused him to gently gestured to your arm and guide your gaze down to your shoulder. 

“O-oh…” you blinked back at the gash, though still couldn’t pierce through the fog to do anything more. As your glossy eyes flickered back up to gaze at your heroes, the woods around you began to spin as you then blubbered, “you saved me… I–… I–…” before the whole forest went black and you collapsed into a pair of quick arms. 

“Wow, it’s alright,” a voice washed over you as soon as you came to, “you’re okay.”

After your eyes had found the source of the deep timbre, they then flickered around to take in the unfamiliar home you now found yourself in.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly as you sat up in the bed you’d been planted on. Looking around the space, it wasn’t the only one as the whole room was filled with enough sleeping arrangements for all of the strangers. 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” the long golden locks on the man sitting by your feet rustled slightly as he raised up both hands in a gesture of goodwill, “you’re in our home,” he informed you before his neck twisted and he shouted out the open bedroom door, “hey guys! She’s awake!”

As the rest of the men from the forest began to filter into the dormitory, your legs curled up beneath the blanket and you swiftly hugged your knees to your chest. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of them asked in a careful tone. 

“I–…” you felt your heart thump in your chest as your wide eyes danced between the burly figures, “what do you–, w-why did you take me with you?” 

Taking a step forward, a dark-haired one said, “well, we couldn’t in good conscience just leave you back there and let you bleed next to your assassin,” he then tilted his head, “plus my healing supplies were all back here.” 

As you glanced down to discover your slashed sleeve cut off and missing with a bandage instead wrapped around the ghastly cut on your upper arm, you then blinked back up at the stranger and asked, “you’re a healer?”

“No, not really, I’m a miner, we all are,” he gestured to the others. 

“Yeah, we work in the mines out west on the other side of the village,” the one leaning against the doorframe shared. 

You faintly recalled the mines they spoke of, though you hadn’t been out there since you were a child, the memory however of the glimmering jewels it produced still sparkled brightly in your mind. 

“Hey, do you mind me asking,” the one standing beside the pickaxe-throwing blonde spoke, “why in the world would a royal guard want to kill you? I mean, forgive me if your looks are deceiving, but you look like just an innocent young girl.”

Averting your gaze to the quilted blanket draped over your form, you uttered, “it’s probably because my stepmother commanded him to…”

“Wow…” one of them breathed, “she has that kinda power? Then you must be, what–, some kind of lady?”

“Princess, actually,” you blinked up at them and watched as they all froze up, instantly growing so quiet that you would have been able to hear a single pin drop in the cottage, “thank you all so very much for saving me. I can’t even begin to fathom what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened.” 

“Oh, well…” the blonde one in the middle shifted slightly, visibly nervous at the discovery of who you truly were, “you’re welcome, your–, uhm, highness.”

“Please, just call me Snow. That’s what everyone does,” you waved a hand and offered him a soft smile, “what are your names?”

“Well, I’m Steve,” the one who’d thrown the pickaxe pressed his palm to his broad chest, “and that there is Bucky, Thor and Marc,” he gestured to the other miners, “and that’s Matthew, Frank and Miguel.”

“Miguel,” you spoke the name of your healer, “thank you for patching up my arm.” 

“Does it feel alright?” he glanced down at the bandage, he too clearly not having a clue how one should act around a royal, “because I could go get some herbs if you–”

“No, thank you, I think I’ll manage” you gently declined before uttering, “although, I–… what’s to happen now? I can’t just go back to the castle, I’d be dead within minutes.”

“Don’t you have anyone you trust somewhere else? Someone you could stay with?” the one named Matthew asked. 

The only person your mind managed to scrounge up was the prince you’d been unwillingly promised to, and he wasn’t just an individual you didn’t trust, but also one you feared.

“No…”

“Uh…” Marc exhaled before his glance flickered across the rest, “would you excuse us for a moment?” 

And as you offered a nod, they all filtered back out the bedroom and huddled up just outside the door, though you could still faintly catch a word or two in their discussion.

“Okay,” Steve crossed his burly arms across his chest when they all entered the room once more, “you can stay here for tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll help you come up with a plan.”

The following day, when all the miners had gone off to the mountains for the day’s work, they’d said their goodbyes before leaving you in the cottage, fully expecting you to no longer be there once they returned. 

But you didn’t leave, you couldn’t have. Where would you have run off to?

So instead, to both try and convince the entire group of you staying, yet also in a makeshift attempt at thanking them for how they’d come to your aid, you spend the day cleaning their messy abode and welcoming them home to a dining table brimming with a roasted feast, a simple comfort none of them had seen in a while. 

It had only been one of them who hadn’t instantly jumped onto the unanimous agreement to let you become a part of their household, but he swiftly received an elbow to the rib to help change his tune.

Not long passed before you soon grew close, and one night, after weeks of you experiencing a sensation you’d never even known existed, something unfamiliar that each and every one of them evoke and flooded your senses with, you finally couldn’t hold your tongue any longer as your innocence had begun to thrust you into the abyss of worry. 

You still hadn’t received a permanent sleeping arrangement even though you’d been here for a while, each one of the miners still took turns letting you borrow one of their simple beds, all of them lined up along the perimeter of the shared bedroom, and let you rest there for the night while they took the humble couch. 

So as you sat on your bed for the night and your gaze shadowed the men as finished getting ready for the night, shedding their clothing and washing up in a small basin by one of the windows, the unfamiliar feeling fluttered once more in your lower belly and drove you to part your lips and utter, “hey Miguel?” you caught the attention of the healer of the lot, “I think there might be something wrong with me…” 

Patting his damp face dry with a small rag, he brought it down upon his shoulder as he furrowed his dark brows over at you, “why would you think that?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, you met his glance, “I feel strange…”

“Strange how?” he took a seat at the foot of the mattress you were curled up on, “explain it to me.”

“Well,” you began hesitantly, “ever since I got here, since I met you all, this weird feeling keeps bubbling up inside of me, like I’m about to faint or something, like I can’t think, and all I can focus on is just this odd tingling sensation almost, like–, I don’t know how to explain it, I know it sounds weird, but I swear, something’s going on, I don’t know what, but it’s weird.”

The man’s head then promptly tilted to the side and you heard him exhale, “oh, honey…” 

Your explanation also caught the attention of the rest of the miners and even conjured a small laugh in some, though Steve swiftly stepped in and barked, “hey! Shut it!” rapidly putting a holt to Bucky and Marc’s amusement. 

Placing a palm on your blanket-covered shin, Miguel then uttered gently, “I think what you’re describing isn’t something bad.”

“Are you sure?” you sat up a bit more. 

“Positive,” he nodded, trying his best to keep a straight face unlike some of the men behind him who still struggled even after getting scalded. 

“So, I’m not sick?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you’re not.”

“Your Highness,” Frank then spoke up, “have you never–, uhm, been with someone else?” 

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted together. 

“Okay, uh…” Thor sighed softly, taking your confusion as enough of an answer, “have you ever–, let’s say, kissedsomeone before?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kissed before,” your thoughts drifted to Prince Billy, though none of those times had stirred any sensations of this sort, “but I’ve never felt like this, not ever,” your gaze then danced between and caught each of the stares the seven miners directed at you, “what’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you touched yourself while you feel like this?” your eyes suddenly grew at Bucky’s bold question, “does your little honeypot get all wet from this feeling?” and when you found yourself too stunned to conjure an answer, he went on, this time with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “I mean, if you’d like, one of us could help you. Teach you how to make it feel better…” 

“You know how to make it better?” you blinked back at him.

“Oh yeah,” his gaze dipped a bit as his grin grew wider. 

“Do you want one of us to help you?” you then heard Steve offer. 

And as your head began to rock in a soft nod, Marc asked, “which one do you want?”

But as you stared around at all of them, you murmured, “I–… I don’t know…”

“Just pick the one that gives you the most butterflies,” Matt tried to aid your decision, “the one that makes you feel like your heart lives between your thighs.”

“…do I have to pick?” you asked quietly as you blinked around at all of them, now clustered by the small bed, “couldn’t you all just help me?”

“…you want all of us to help you?” Miguel’s head dipped slightly as he tilted forward in surprise. 

“At once?” Frank asked. 

And as you offered them a nod, they all exchanged looks, silently agreeing before Steve uttered, “alright.” 

With all of the miners surrounding the bed, they swiftly kneeled down on the floor in a half-moon around you before they began. 

Before Marc, Thor and Frank the furthest from you grabbed a hold of the blanket draped over you and began to tug it down and let it crumble below your feet, Matt and Miguel to your right gently prepared you and began to undo your confusion. 

Each of their touches were feathery in the beginning as their fingers ghosted over your frame. At first, it wasn’t even in that scandalous of places as Steve and Matt even continued to hold your hands long after the thin chemise you wore had been tugged at, the neckline pushed down to expose your boobs, heaving with every fierce breath you sucked in, and the skirts shoved up, letting the linen bunch well above your hips to uncover the place where the dizzying sensation peaked to unimaginable heights. 

When the first touch fluttered between your legs, your eyes swiftly flickered up to find Bucky and Steve’s directly to your left as the pleasure was one you’d never even thought possible. 

You rapidly melted into the bliss as lingering embarrassment faded away and you soon let them crack you open even further, folding up your legs to grant them all better access to your haven. 

Even before your eyes fluttered closed, the job of deciphering which hand belonged to who was an impossible task. Floating in the sea of touches, not a millimetre of your skin was left unexplored, and neither were your untouched holes as they all turned you so molten that at one point everyone had at least one finger warm within you at once. 

Four digits stretched out your lips and both gave your mouth something to drool around and also let your moans melt against their flesh. Three of them slipped in and worked in tandem to stretch out your virgin cunt. They’d even gotten you so relaxed that two managed to sneak a finger inside of your tight little ass, plugging you up completely.

And when the still unfamiliar high began to bubble within you and creep near, worry first began to billow out of you once more, though after some soothing sentences and an ask of trust, they carried you through the overwhelming ecstasy till you were trembling in their hands and begging them to grant you that gift one more time, like an addict, already craving that sweetness once again.  

ONE YEAR LATER

“Ah-ha-ha!” Thor’s jovial rumble was the first sign you got that any of the fellows had returned after a day at the mines, “come here, princess!” 

As he entered the cottage, arms spread out wide, he excitedly caught you in a hug and lifted you up as he swung you around till you became no more than an ethereal giggle in his hold. 

“Oh, no,” you complained light-heartedly through your laugh as his stale smell of sweat mixed with soot flooded your senses, “you’re so dirty!” you tried to glance down at your dress to see if any of the grime from the mine had transferred.

Letting out a chuckle as he only tightened his hold around your frame, “you love it,” he tilted his head out of the crook of your neck and planted a kiss to your lips. 

“You’re not–,” you continued your giggle even as his own mouth tried to smother the sound, “Thor, you need to bathe first.” 

“Oh, really?” he cocked his head and slyly narrowed his eyes, “you sure you don’t wanna repeat the welcome home you gave me yesterday where you couldn’t wait? I mean, I could barely get in the door before you had your lips on me, struggling to fit my balls inside that little mouth of yours?” 

His lips first pressed against your now hot cheek before they wandered across in a straight line down to your own, not simmering down his eagerness even as the rest of his fellow miners began to filter into the cabin. 

“Oh, so that’s why you ran ahead,” Marc’s sigh caused you to break the peck, “of course.” 

Still entangled in Thor’s strong arms, you glanced over at the familiar men who crossed the threshold and slowly began to set down their tools and peel off their muddy boots.  

“Heya, boys,” a warm bubble burst within you as you flashed them all a smile. Attempting to slip out of the burly hug, Thor still kept his palm interlocked in your own as you made your way around through the crowd and began to greet the others, “how was the mine today?”

“It was fine,” Frank muttered in your ear when you hugged him. 

And as your free arm lastly found Steve’s broad shoulder in an embrace, his low voice tickled the side of your neck as he exhaled, “hi Snow.”  

“Hi,” you pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek. 

As you retracted and let Thor pull you back against his warmth, Miguel asked, “so, what’s for dinner tonight?” as Thor leaned back against the sturdy dining table and dragged you with him, half planting you in his lap as he leaned you back against him. 

Though as the softness of your bottom came to rest against the miner’s pelvis, a palpable hardness distracted you even through the layers of your dress, “uhm, I’ve got a lentil stew going over the fire,” your breathing began to grow unsteady as he discreetly grinded you down against his desperation, “it should be done soon.” 

“Good,” Miguel smiled, haven not yet noticed the nefarious activities that had begun right under his own nose, “I’m starving.” 

“What else have you gotten up to today?” Matt asked as he sat down on the bench where Marc had already planted himself, “did you begin that book we were talking about?” 

“I–, uh, I started it, but I didn’t get that far,” your words became a struggle to form as you tried to fight through the fog Thor thrust you into, “ended up taking a nap instead.”

“Well, that’s good,” Bucky noted, “you were tossing and turning so much last–,” though his sentence then promptly crumbled as a soft whimper finally slipped out past your lips and drew his attention to the way Thor’s hands on your hips subtly rocked you down against him, “seriously?” he swiftly scalded him, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants for even two seconds?” 

“Right,” Thor scoffed, “like I'm the only one who’s desperate,” he then buried his grasp in your skirts and before you had the chance to protest, picked it up to prove his point. 

It was frankly a bit embarrassing how wet you already were, though when Thor grabbed ahold of your thighs and lifted you up, your back plastered against his chest as his hold on you spread you wide for all to see, your cunt couldn’t help but drool for them so fiercely that even the one furthest away from you could catch a glimpse of the glimmer glinting back at him in a lewd plea.  

“Hm…” Bucky hummed warmly as he kneeled down before you, though only let his palm come up to ghost against your inner thigh and didn’t grant you the sweet relief of petting your pussy as she cried out for his touch, “your Highness, are you sure it wasn’t something else you were doing all day while we were off at work?” 

“I–,” an airy chuckle innocently escaped your lungs, “what are you implying?” 

“Well, either you were too impatient to wait for us,” you sucked in a breath as his hand finally drifted up to offer your core the softest of pets, teasing you further into madness, “or just the mere sound of the front door opening got you dripping the way that you are right now…” 

“So, which is it, princess?” Frank smirked, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall beside the fireplace, “are you a whore or is it just for us?” 

“You already know the answer to that…” you hazily smiled, though swiftly let out a whimper as Bucky removed his hand, denying you of any further pleasure. However, before you could part your lips in a complaint, Thor set you back down on your now wobbly feet. 

Your gaze found Steve’s as he took a seat beside Marc, unlike the rest of the men who began to swarm around you, their broad hands swiftly reaching for your dress. It nearly didn’t even get the chance to drop back down and cover you from how Thor had torn it up, before they nearly ripped it to shreds. 

And when no fabric was left to conceal your frame, your moment with your feet on the ground turned out to be more fleeting than you’d thought as both Frank and Miguel then shifted to stand behind you and their grasps found your form, first guiding your arms around their necks for support before they plucked you up. 

As Matt stepped up and seized your flaming cheeks to dip his lips down to yours, a whisper then washed over you as the sweet kiss ended, “can I have a taste?” and as your head began to nod, your nose momentarily nuzzled against his own before his knees buckled. 

Both Thor and Bucky enveloped a hand around your ankles, keeping you spread wide even as Matthew dropped down and made you squirm as his hot breath fanned across your glistening core. 

As your lips parted in a gasp, staring down at Matt as he dipped down to kiss your puffy pearl, in your periphery you just managed to spot how everyone’s free hand had found the tent in their pants, squeezing it for an ounce of relief as they watched you intently. 

When Matt’s tongue lapped through your petals, it wasn’t till he tilted his chin and sucked your clit into his mouth that your gaze fluttered up to find Marc’s across the room. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you moaned into the cottage, “I need–, I–, I need more–,” the plea left your lips as you tried to keep your stare lock. Though the love pecks felt incredible, it was bordering the line of crude torture, only tickling at your senses and not granting you the sweet relief the deepest depths of you yearned for so fiercely. 

It seemed like an eternity that Marc took to get up from his seat and actually cross the small room, though when he did, his palm briefly patted Matthew’s shoulder and caused the kisses to cease. 

“How much more, princess?” Marc asked as Matt got up and let him switch places. 

Though when your answer came in the form of your gaze dropping to his hard length, freed and heavy in his tight fist, one of the men holding you up murmured in your ear, “you want him to fuck you, huh? Is that what you want?” Frank’s deep timbre seeped directly into your bones as his lips dipped down to nip at your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded hazily, keeping your eyes glued as Marc stepped up and briefly swept the bulbous head of his cock through your folds. 

For a second, you thought it had been Marc himself who had slowly thrust his entirety inside of you, though in actuality when Miguel and Frank’s hold on you tightened, they’d been the ones to tilt your body just as the girth caught your entrance, and lower you down on it in one fell motion. 

“There you go, Snow,” Bucky breathed as your eyes fluttered at the stretch. Halting his palming of himself, Bucky’s hand soothingly swept up the length of you till it found your tit and cupped it gently, his calloused thumb stretching up to flick against your pebbly nipple and get your eyes to blink back open. 

Marc’s efforts were purposely slow and he gently began to warm you up for what you expected was in store. Though on one of his long and deep strokes, plunging all the way inside of your little pussy before yanking himself out completely, you only blinked and when your eyes fluttered back open, it wasn’t Marc’s cock that was buried deep within you, but instead the last man to join the fray. 

“S-Steve, o-oh!” your head tilted back slightly as his fat girth split you open. 

“Oh, how do you always feel better than I recall?” Steve groaned, the tip of him already bumping against your cervix. 

“It’s that fucking princess pussy,” Thor grunted, “I swear it’s like magic or something.” 

“No matter how many of us try and fit inside of you at once, we just can’t ruin you,” Miguel kissed your cheek, “you just snap right back and we have to stretch you all the way back out again.” 

Steve, Marc and Matt before you then took turns, fucking you slowly and building a rhythm till they became like a river, each of them only sinking in and letting their balls tap against your slick skin before they pulled back out and let the other one take a dive. As the silky pattern pushed you closer to the peak and made you dazed out of your mind, you stopped being able to tell who was fucking you when, as they all just flowed together and worked your body as one soul being. That was often how it was with your seven miners. In certain moments, they just became something else, something entirely different and much more ethereal than seven mortal men, but instead fused together into a sea of love that they let you float in. 

Once your first of many orgasms washed over you and rocked through your soul, your body was set back down, though only for a mere moment before Bucky picked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he lowered himself onto one of the long benches that stretched out on either side of the dining table. 

As he settled you atop of him and slipped inside your still throbbing cunt, your head tilted up in the direction of the men whose hard lengths were still glistening with your juices and your hands fluttered up to motion for them, grabbing for their girths, way before your fingers could reach them, though when they did, Steve didn’t let your touch linger on himself but instead plucked up your face and parted your lips with his cock, letting your hands take care of Matt and Marc on either side of him while he gently fucked your mouth. 

“Oh, shit,” Frank then appeared before you, wedging himself in beside Steve’s bulky form, “share some of that sugar,” his palm found your cheek and stroked it softly. As your lips left Steve with an audible pop, Frank’s fingers drifted up to bury themselves in your locks before he guided you to him and groaned as he finally felt you swallow his cock, “yes…”

However, what you didn’t expect was how Steve’s hand too fluttered up to tangle itself in the other side of your hair before they both took over your head’s movements, passing you back and forth between the both of them, though only granting themselves one long bob at a time.  

When a pair of fingers softly swept over the last of your holes, your eyebrows knit together at the familiar teasing. 

“What do you say, Snow?” you heard Thor utter from behind you as he brought his palm down to smack the curve of your ass, watching intently as Miguel’s fingertips rub against you, only shyly dipping inside the hole just above where Bucky split you open, “exactly how much more are you in the mood for today?”

And when you took your chance to catch your breath, you shot back your needy answer through your heaving intakes of air, “all of it.” 

It wasn’t till Miguel let out a gravelly groan that you knew which one had gotten the chance to claim your ass first. When a dollop of his spit landed upon your skin, his thumb wasted no time to soar up and rub it in, swiping over your little rosebud as it stretched to take his girth. 

The task of keeping up your attention to the four miners at your head became an impossible task as they gave your mouth a break for your breathless moans to flow freely and they instead came to your aid and helped guide your hands around to grant them all a bit of affection. 

With both of your holes snuggly filled up, you felt yourself near the edge once more, though it was Thor who pushed you over it as his hand coiled around your waist and snaked down to find your swollen clit in a lavish pattern. 

Though when you buried your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck and trembled between his and Miguel’s burly forms, Thor’s touch dissipated and though you half expected him to join the rest up top, it still didn’t manage to surprise you what he opted for instead. 

“Holy shit!” you shakily gasped, your palm nearly slapping Bucky in the chest as you felt Thor angle himself behind you and press his cock in beside Miguel’s, who’s dick was already more than enough for you to handle on its own. 

“Shh,” Bucky tilted your chin down for you to catch his eye, “don’t act like this is your first time, princess,” he kept his own pace selfish as the silky wall parting him from the rest grew thinner than ever, “you can take it,” his palm tapped your cheek lightly as he smiled at how you overcame the staggering sensation, “just as you always do.” 

And take it you did, soon gushing all over them as the three miners emptied themselves into your holes, pumping you full and leaving you a leaky mess for the remainder to enjoy while they all found a seat to relax in and watch you descend further into madness. 

It was Frank who then flipped your molten form around, planting himself on the very same bench, and twisted you around for your back to be melting down against his front. He slipped in effortlessly as the two loads that dripped out of your ass aided his fat girth as he buried himself completely, fucking the other miner’s cum that much deeper inside your utterly wrecked hole. 

“How’s she doing, huh?” Steve asked as he and Matthew stepped up between your parted legs, his fingers coasting down to spread open and inspect your pussy as it too leaked, “you think she can take a bit more? You think she can take on the two of us?” he briefly pumped two of his fingers into your quivering hole as he awaited your answer. 

“I–, you can try,” you panted, hazily blinking down at how Matt’s digits too came down between your thighs and began to draw rude patterns over your puffy pearl, “I don’t know if I can do it, but you can try.”

“Atta girl,” Matt flashed you a smile before each of their touches was traded out for something much more overwhelming. 

With Marc as the last one remaining above your head, he stayed patient and simply stood there, stroking your hair and even dipping down to press his lips to your cheek as your poor pussy struggled to take the two cocks your loves attempted to ease in there. Though, when your eyes widened at the eventual success, the man behind you only let you stare at the severe stretch a moment before he tilted your head back, supporting it with both of his hands as you caught on and parted your lips for him. 

As he fucked your face, one of his hands briefly swept down to your throat as he fed you more of his length and spotted how a dull bulge of him appeared each time you gagged around his girth. 

You felt as if you’d slipped into a trance by the time everyone had gotten the chance to cum inside your sweetness, yourself falling apart around them enough times that you lost count. Though even so, as you layed there, various burly men enveloping your half-continuous form in their warmth, your eyes blinked open and spotted the few who’d gotten the privilege to go first and how they’d at some time grown hard once again and were now pumping their cocks in their fists, with all of their greedy gazes glued on you.  

The seven miners always warned you to be careful while they were off at work and you were all alone in the secluded cottage. Even though it was located in the middle of the woods, they still advised you not to open the door for anyone, not even if their looks deceived you. 

You should have heeded those warnings the day when an old hag knocked at the cabin door, because she didn’t turn out to be just a sweet old lady as you had thought when you first spotted her through the window, dark cloak drawn up over her grey hair as she clutched onto a heavy basket of apples in one arm and thumped her free fist against the front door. 

All she’d asked for had been a sip of water, one your kindness couldn’t deny her of. 

Though your gravest mistake came when you accepted her seemingly kind offer of gratitude in the form of one of her apples, because when you sank your teeth into the crisp red fruit, the produce suddenly turned rotten in your grasp, granting you a brief glance of the truth, of the potent poison it withheld, before the effects took ahold and cast you into an eternal slumber. 

The enchanted sleep however wasn’t like the one you’d heard tales about as it in truth only shut down your body as the rest of your senses still stayed awake, alert and aware as ever to the things around you, though forever helpless to whatever could occur. 

When your dear miners returned that day, the sight that found them utterly broke them all. 

And when they discovered that you’d received a fate worse than death, a few of them had to lean on superstition in order to cope. 

Though superstition was what superstition often is, just a fairytale. 

No matter how many of them attempted to press their lips to yours, you stayed asleep as true love’s kiss turned out to be no more than a bedtime story. 

That’s how you ended up in a blossoming glen, not far from the cottage that had grown to become your home, encased in a glass coffin. 

But that’s also how he found you again…

Prince Billy had been on a hunting trip the day he stumbled over the clearing you rested in, his deepest desires he’d assumed forever lost, so perfectly on display for him in the middle of the woods and with no one to stop him from taking you with him back to his castle. You had been his fiancé after all, so if your fate as his wife included you being a little less of an active participant than you’d been previously, then so be it. He could be content with you as nothing but a living doll… in fact, perhaps the royal even preferred it… 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

characters | caretaker!jake jensen, daddy!ari levinson, wrenley beauchamp (original character)

warnings | mentions/depictions of domestic and sexual violence, mental health themes: anxiety/panic disorders, trauma and post-traumatic-stress, eating disorders (restrictive subtype), therapeutic methods and tools: exposure, age regression. specific warnings included in each chapter

series sections | this series includes two sections. the main series, composed of full-length chapters, will tell the characters’ story of meeting, bonding, facing adversity and challenges, and becoming a family in chronological order, as a traditional chapter book would. egem: little life will be a collection of one shots, blurbs, and headcanons capturing various events and moments throughout the characters’ lives together. please feel free to read these sections in whatever order you’d like; it’s recommended to read at least some of the main series first to grow familiar with the characters, setting, context, etc.

sexual content | egem: little life will include a section of works that explore wren healing her sexual trauma through safe sexual relations with jake and ari. these sexual themes will be limited to safe/consensual sex only (no dark elements, non/dubcon, etc.— though these will appear in the main series as a part of wren’s traumatic experiences, with plenty of trigger warnings included.) works including sexual relations between wren, jake, and ari will be listed in their own section of the masterlist, and all clearly marked as nsfw. please feel free to skip these pieces entirely. they will not impact the overall storyline; therefore, one can read everything else and experience wren’s relationship with jake and ari as completely sfw if they wish.

main series chapters.

1. prologue | 2. the little garden fairy | 3. baby steps | 4. difficult introductions

headcanons.

wren's pink bathroom

[virginreprise]

. ・. ゜. -: ✧ :- INDEBTED TO ✧ YOU

jackson!joel miller x reader ・゜゜・．

° : ⋆ₓ ₒ slight ddlg dynamics, smut, age gap, dirty talk, daddy kink, joel's perverted inner monologue, just pure filth whilst i try and get junky pride pt3 finished lmao

2.7k words ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✧

˚ · • . ° . AO3 ˚ ·. • . ° .

Brief murmurs of Tommy’s chastising fumbled in the back of his mind, the harsh way he’d shook his head—told him you were far too young; that a man like Joel had no business talking to someone like you. Someone hardened and vulnerable, despairing and mutilated by life and every tribulation that had befallen you. 

“She was a child when all this happened,” he’d informed, almost caring as they shared a beer in the empty bar: the usual intensity and hubbub of Jackson’s population had dwindled to the few who dared venture into the snow when the moon hung high and the lanterns flickered off. Footsteps covered by the ever-falling white—lost to the prairie. “You had a child-“ 

Joel had cut him off with a stare, heat forming in his stomach that bubbled and raged—hard to keep down as he gripped the bottle, hand wet with condensation, and grabbed his jacket. Ready to take his leave. Tommy had known he’d gone too far and they’d never spoken of you again, Just Joel’s quiet, mumbled monologue and his little brother’s lingering disproval that seemed so irrational when you’d sunk on his lap and called him daddy. 

Surely it was natural: when denied something, there’d be an overwhelming intensity to have it. That when he was told “No,” he’d ignore every obstacle that conjured in his space. 

Maybe Joel was just stubborn. Or maybe you were just so sweet he couldn’t take his brother's advice and leave you alone. 

But you’d ended up in his bed, writhing underneath him whilst he held your wrists above your head and stretched you wide open—cooing at your pretty little whimpers as he nestled between your thighs. 

“There you go, baby.” He stroked the hair away from your forehead, eyes flickering down to gaze at the space between your legs—the way he disappeared inside of you as his balls pressed against your ass, slick dribbling down onto his bedsheets that he’d changed just hours before you’d come to him. He didn’t care, though. God, he’d be able to smell you all day, have the sweetness of you permeating throughout the room until the scent carried its way into his everyday life. 

Patrolling the surrounding area, you’d be there—dancing along his nose. In his workshop, as he sanded away the rough wood, making something for you as a Christmas present, he’d be able to feel you around him, taste you on his lips and hear the remnants of those staccato moans as you came around his fingers. 

“Daddy’s got you,” he mumbled as he breathed out a soft moan, the tightness of you around him causing him to pause—to contemplate his words that came so sinfully from his already tainted lips. 

Jackson should’ve been a new start, a new beginning where he could leave the horrors and the terror behind. But you: pretty little thing that barely spoke, who responded to every question with a quiet nod or a shake of your head and hoped that someone else would verbalise every feeling for you, had ruined those hopes for him—had shattered the image he’d created whilst hammering a nail into the wall, ready to hang his paintings on. 

You were sweet. So damn sweet. 

With a harshness in your eyes that hinted at similar pasts, at losses that neither of you could overcome. Why Tommy didn’t think you were fucking perfect for each other, Joel would never know. 

“Daddy’s here, darlin’, all for you.”

They were incoherent blabbers, things that Joel would never say if he wasn’t so drunk off pussy and the look on your pretty little face as he began slowly moving his hips. 

“D-daddy?” 

God, you sounded so fucking pretty. All glassy-eyes and fucked out with a little bit of drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. He lapped it up with a solid kiss, an arm wrapped around your waist as he tugged you close to him—wanting to feel every part of you, every soft piece of flesh, pressed against him. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Another kiss to your forehead, grinding his pubic bone into your clit—wanting to stay wrapped up like this forever; hoping that you’d stay with and warm his bed after all was said and done. Keep moaning that name of his, that filthy little name that would give Tommy an aneurysm if he heard it, until you came and cried all over his cock. 

“Hurts,” you managed to get out. “S’too big.” 

The pride that seized him was unlike any other, the light chuckle he let out unable to be prevented as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, one to both cheeks, your nose and then lips. 

“I know, honey.” His fingers found their way between your thighs, stroking circles into your clit—attempting to appease the ache as he rolled his hips into you. “Deep breaths.” 

Kisses fell from your lips to your jaw, trailing to your neck where he sucked, smiling as you keened and bucked your hips. 

You took it so well. Took everything he gave with no complaints, writhing around in his bed, messing his covers and calling his name. 

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. 

It fell from your lips so perversely, but so pretty that he didn’t have it in him to tell you no. 

He’d be your daddy if that’s what you wanted. He was the right fucking age, silver in his hair—in his goddamn pubes too. His bones ached, knees cracking as he stood from the couch, back completely giving up on him after that one time a year ago when he’d held too much firewood in his arms and he’d gone tumbling down with the logs, crashing to the floor and having to crawl back inside his house. He hadn’t gone on patrol for a good few weeks after and he’d been careful with the damn fragile thing ever since. 

He was fragile. Fragile and old with a pudge to his tummy that never seemed to go away no matter how much he tried, wrinkles spidering near the corners of his eyes, and a pretty young thing in his bed that clenched around his dick whilst the adrenaline pumped around his body in seismic waves and made him forget all about the backache as he hovered over you. 

“You feel good?’ he asked softly, fingers still rubbing at your clit as you wrapped your legs around his hips. 

You nodded, nonverbal, unable to bring your thoughts to fruition as you mumbled incoherent things into the space between your lips. 

“C’mon baby, tell daddy how you feel.”

You whined, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails into the taut muscle. 

“S-s-s-so good, daddy.

God, he felt so fucking filthy, so depraved, so perverted. But, amongst all of that, he felt good. He felt undeniably euphoric with you wrapped around him, name echoing in the darkest corners of his mind and slipping from his throat so naturally it was like he was born to do this for you. To take care of you. Your sole vocation was to be his pretty baby for the rest of his life—not lift a goddamn finger as he did everything you asked him to. 

Get home after a long day patrolling to you in the kitchen, waiting for him eagerly and throwing yourself into his arms to give him a kiss. Tell him how much you missed him. That you’d been needing him all day. 

Joel just wanted someone to look after. And if that meant being labelled as a pervert by his brother and possibly by the entirety of Jackson, so what? 

“Yeah, I’ll make you feel good,” he murmured to himself, the words soft and delicate as he closed his eyes for a brief second, savouring the feeling of your heat around him and pulling you as tight to him as he possibly could. Breasts pressed against his chest, the softness of them against the wiry hairs: a contrast so delightful and thrilling. 

He brought his lips down to yours, tongue pressing into you—wanting to consume. To taste every single part of you. 

Hips began their movement, your mouth hanging open as he continued to lick at you; he pressed down on your stomach with intention, hand moving from your clit to the soft space above it and felt himself inside you, moving softly, scraping against every spot that had you shaking and twitching.

You gripped him tighter, whimpers and moans gracing the air, nuzzling into his touch when he stroked a hand down your cheek to admire the unmistakable and overwhelming beauty of you: all drunk off his cock and losing yourself to the feeling of him sinking deep inside you. 

“You like Daddy’s cock in you, huh?” His voice was strained with lust, dick jerking inside you when you clamped down on him—his words the biggest effect. He loved it: the way you’d start squirming and gaze at your shoes every time he spoke out of turn, every time something filthy fell from his lips. You loved hearing him talk, whisper dirty words that he daredn’t bring outside the four walls of his room. 

The left side of the bed that had been empty for so long, just waiting for you to warm it, to have your scent sink into the mattress and stay there for eternity. 

Understandably, you struggled to answer his question, just nodding slightly, almost imperceptible: the tiny little head jerk. 

“C’mon, baby, use your words.” 

You whined, digging your heels into his back, gripping tighter onto his shoulders; he was sure you’d leave marks, big long scratches down the expanse of already scarred skin. Decorating him with an ardent display of passion and desire—marking him as yours. 

He would be yours. 

Every breath, every cry, every laugh: yours alone.

In turn, he would get to keep you, locked away in his house, safe from every danger that crept outside the walls. 

“Love Daddy’s cock,” you mumbled, face heating in embarrassment at the crudeness, pressing your face as best you could into the pillows. Joel refused. He would not deny himself the pleasure of staring down at you as you took him, lips parted, eyes screwed up in pleasure with tears dripping to your temple. 

Fingers found your jaw, turning you to face him, enamoured by the way you clung and bucked—wishing for all of him. 

“Daddy,” you moaned, lips turned into a pout, a cry escaping you as his hips sped up—thrusts coming quicker. The arm around your waist tightened, tugging you upwards so he could reach deeper. Balls fucking deep. 

“There you go,” he encouraged, kissing softly at your collarbone, nipping slightly as he moved to your shoulder. “That feels good, don’t it, sweetheart?” 

This time, he didn’t mind when you didn’t reply, too focused on you gushing around him. Practically drooling from that tight little pussy as he snapped his hips upward and felt his head go funny—mind clouded by the heat of you. He was fucking burning up, everything on his mind spewing from his lips as he leant over you; ignoring the ache in his hips that served as a gentle reminder that he was old. That this was still wrong and that if anyone ever found out about what he did to you and what he let you call him, they’d exile him from Jackson and look back on the days of the pervert next door: Joel Miller. 

“Tommy says I’m too old for you,” he grunted, hand grabbing at your wrists when they fell from his back—too cock-drunk to keep them on him. “Says that I’ll ruin you.” The monologuing had been unintentional, the sentences that formed something that he was desperate to keep to himself. Too late now. All restraint had been lost as soon as you’d coaxed his fingers into your panties and shown him just how much you wanted him. “You like it, though, don’t you? You’d do whatever—fuck—whatever I tell you like a good little girl. Wouldn’t you, baby?”

You nodded enthusiastically. 

“Whatever you want, daddy.” 

He chuckled, eyes full of mirth as he kissed you softly, slipping his hands into yours and pushing them down into the pillows. He couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving, some part of him still thinking that this was all just a sick joke, that you didn’t actually want an old man like him and were going to run away the first chance you got. But, you called his name again, that fateful moniker that had his dick twitching in his pants, all doubts were lost. 

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, darlin’,” he said, pressing his pelvis purposefully against you, grinding down on your clit and watching your mouth hang open in ecstasy—eyes squeezed shut as you mumbled a high-pitched, whiny “Daddy.” The best one yet, as far as Joel was concerned. “You almost there, baby? You gonna cum all over Daddy’s cock? Gonna let all of them hear how much you want me? Huh?” 

You nodded vigorously, sharp gasps falling from your lips, body writhing underneath his as it built itself tall inside your stomach. Growing and growing until you were clamping down on him so tight he thought his dick would fall off. 

“C’mon, babydoll, let it out,” Joel coaxed, kissing all over your face, all down your chest and took a nipple in his mouth, sucked and grazed harshly until he felt you gushing—breath held as you soaked it in, and then a sharp cry falling from your lips as it washed over you. “There you go,” he murmured against your skin, hips slowing to guide you through, throat hoarse as he felt his own impending orgasm. 

Your head fell back onto the pillows, mouth dropped open as you tried to breathe through the sharp stabs of pleasure, Joel’s licentiousness overpowering his restraint as he pummeled into you as fast as his old bones would let him. He pushed his way through your stomach, almost coming apart right there when he looked down and saw the bulge. 

A choked groan forced its way out his throat, stomach tensing as his ears began ringing, not registering your soft whimpers and small sobs—the small daddy’s that you struggled to project above the beginning of Joel’s release. 

He outright moaned when he finally spilt inside you, cock twitching, arms shaking as he tried with all his might to keep himself balanced on his palms. 

“Daddy?” you were coming back into focus now, his bleary eyes regaining their vision and his chest heaving as he managed to breathe again—now able to fully take in the sight of you. Sweat on your brow, tears streaming from your eyes and lips full: evidence of his bruising kisses. 

“I’m here, baby,” he breathed out, indulging in your soft moan as he pulled out of you and collapsed onto the mattress beside you. He brought you with him, tugging at your waist and manoeuvring you so you lay close—warm body tucked under his arm. 

A soft kiss to your forehead, a repeated slew of “I’m here,” and “Daddy’s not goin’ anywhere,” leaving his lips as he held you as close as possible. 

Fuck Tommy, fuck Maria, fuck anyone who dared share their opinions of his choice in relations. You were his now, cum seeping from your legs—marking you. Claiming you. 

All he wanted was to take care of you, feed you, clothe you, bathe you, keep you happy, safe and warm and pray to God that you would never come to your senses one day and run far away. That you’d realise what you two had was…different. Not wrong, just different. 

He wouldn’t let you go. 

No, he’d keep you. 

Tucked into his side, a mumbled “G’night, daddy,” on your pretty lips, and the feel of you against him as your body grew heavy with sleep. 

He would stay up for hours after you’d finally fallen into slumber, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest, listening to the snores that he found overwhelmingly endearing. Kiss you a couple more times and breathe in your scent. Make sure that you wouldn’t escape in the middle of the night and go tell everyone what a disgusting, sleazy old man Joel Miller really was. 

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.

That word rested heavily on his shoulders, all night lying awake and waiting to hear it again. 

God, he was in fucking deep; he wouldn’t be letting you go for as long as you were still wet and willing.

© virginreprise

thanks for reading ! i wrote this whilst thinking of that one guy who was perfect for me. i hope you can feel my longing and desire projected through joel's thoughts. if anyone's wondering about junky pride, i hope to get it out soon. i really really just love jackson joel more than anything and want him in me so bad.

[gutsby]

Cowboy Killers

Pairing: Cowboy!Joel x Reader

Summary: On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Warnings: 18+. Drunk-Assholes-to-Enemies-to-Lovers. Oral (m!receiving). Road head. Age gap. Daddy kink.

Note: My favorite sub-genre of country music is ‘I’m Gonna Fucking Kill My Husband,’ and I think Miranda Lambert’s ‘Gunpowder & Lead’ is a perfect representation of that.

Word count: 4.1k

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and—

“I’m about to lay this motherfucker out,” you announced.

Across the line, your friend laughed.

“Yeah? You see him?”

Of course you saw him. Who else would be wearing a Carhartt flannel and jeans in ninety-four degree heat? Not a soul in this world but your friend’s own lying, piece of shit, hopefully-soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, you guessed.

The game that Old Fuckstick Miller had decided to play tonight was a dangerous one—he was dumb as shit, and you were drunker than a skunk. He was dating your best friend, and she was not present at the Tipsy Bison to see the barefaced clusterfuck taking place before you now.

She was home, over thirty minutes away. He had told her that morning he would be working late, and not to wait up. You were here, at the bar, approaching one A.M. with a Redbull Vodka clenched in either fist and a Texas-sized frown on your face, seeing the very same man with his hands all over a woman that wasn’t your friend. You’d wanted to puke as soon as you saw them. You knew you could never trust a man who claimed to be an Austin native and couldn’t name a single George Strait song.

Your friend had only been dating the guy for a month, and you’d just seen his face in pictures up until now, but from what you could see less than twenty feet in front of you—slightly blurred from all the drinks you’d had—this guy was him. A dick. There, cheating on your best friend.

And no man would get to do that and walk out unscathed if you had anything to say about it.

Your grip tightened on either one of your fizzy drinks and, barely managing to cradle the phone between your head and your shoulder, you gestured over to another friend.

“Dave. Take it,” you said, words slurring a little.

Dave York cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as you passed him one of your RBVs and shimmied off the barstool. By the time he was able to pose his question, your ass, your phone, and your one remaining drink were already wobbling the other way. Vaguely, you heard him:

“Where ya headed, hon?”

You turned and raised your drink, then seriously doubted he would be able to hear you over the blare of the music, but yelled back anyway, ‘I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!’

The age-old pro-forgiveness aphorism continued to thump in your brain as you made your way over and began to contemplate every feasible method of murder.

A gun in the face would’ve been too simple—and besides, you’d never owned or shot a firearm in your life.

Poison could be fun, but from the way you were approaching the man now, you seriously doubted he’d ever let you get within a mile of his drink. You nudged the phone closer to your ear and took a sip from your own.

“Closing in,” you told your friend simply.

She’d already given you the go-ahead to execute the confrontation and beat his ass any way you pleased after the fact. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ you’d finally get to encroach on this little loved up scene at the other end of the bar. The man had had his back turned to you, and the stunning redhead hanging off his neck, likewise, had no idea what was coming. You smiled.

“Promise you won’t go to jail this time?” your friend said.

“Will you bail me out again if I do?” Your grin got bigger.

“Well, duh.”

“Good deal. I’ll be the shitfaced inmate with ‘Fuck Men’ tattooed on her forehead. Wait for Travis County to call.”

“I love you, psycho.”

“Love you more.”

You ended the call.

And you were fully ready to end this man’s life when you saw him lean in to kiss the woman’s neck—that was sick.

You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t seeing straight

You yelled out, ‘He-e-e-ey, honey!’ without blinking.

The couple turned.

As soon as the man had done a full 180, you flung your drink in his face and made sure the cup struck his nose.

“You cheatin’ FUCK!”

He flinched, sprayed by your vodka-infused energy juice.

The music overhead was loud, but not so deafening as to prevent the bar from hearing your shriek. From the front of the room, a band was playing ‘Gunpowder & Lead,’ and you couldn’t help but feel the song had been fate.

“What the f—” the adulterer started, evidently stunned.

You knocked the Shiner Bock out of his hand and spat:

“Working late, are we?!”

And spilled another patron’s beer reeling back.

“Got a little caught up on the way home?”

Gesturing toward the green-eyed beauty to his left. At first, the girl fixed her stare on you as if you’d sprouted another head, but then, by turns, she was tilting it to him.

“You have a girlfriend?” she hissed.

Cheater McFuckstick was wiping his beard with his hand

Shaking his head.

“Hell no, I ain’t never—”

“LIAR!”

Channeling your inner Representative Wilson circa 2009, you let your mouth fall open and stared at the big, burly man like the Congressman had once done to President Obama all those years ago. The semi-stranger in front of you was far less composed than his political counterpart.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he snapped.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Is she your girlfriend?” would-be mistress said, shrill.

“NO!” you and been-knew asshole yelled together.

You saw the man’s nostrils flare, and at the same time, the woman beside him departed. Quickly. A few people around you cleared the way, while others still stared, gawked, and murmured amongst themselves. The Miranda Lambert cover band continued on without a hitch, though you could tell there had been a stir in the crowd. They probably thought the worst of it was over.

They thought wrong.

“You’re a dick,” you seethed, unrelenting.

You almost expected the man to turn and leave.

You thought wrong.

“You’re a cunt.”

And the man chucked a stray whiskey sour in your face.

The $15 spirits splattered on your skin like the meanest insult of all. His aim was better. Though he didn’t let go of the cup, as you had with him, he did make sure to coat the whole of your twisted look with the liquor, and once it landed, he had had the nerve to do something else, too.

He brought the glass to his lips then drank what was left.

“How’s it feel?” he sneered.

You stood in wet, sticky silence for half a second; arguably, you’d earned that cocktail to the face.

On the other hand, who the fuck did he think he was?

You grabbed a random can of Keystone Light and flung it at his chest to give him a hint—and catch him off-guard.

“You’re a bitch, Tommy Miller!”

“Wh—”

“Maria’s my best friend, you absolute f—”

“What—”

“—and you cheated on her for what? All so she—”

“What did you just call me?!”

“A BITCH!”

“No, the NAME!”

“TOMMY MILLER!”

“I’M JOEL!”

Oh.

Oh.

You and Joel were shortly escorted out of the bar.

Joel’s name, and a trace of bourbon, were still fresh on your tongue when you found yourself stranded in the middle of the Tipsy Bison parking lot two minutes later. You leaned into a car beside you and held your stomach.

“Someone drop you on the head as a baby?” Joel barked.

Presently, for you, the world was tilting sideways, and your head was throbbing at a nauseating tempo.

“Go around slingin’ drinks at any old man you—”

Green. Green must’ve been the color of your face as you braced your hands on your knees and assumed a stance as if to scream at the ground. Rather than expecting any noise to ring out, though, you had only to squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto a hunch for something much less pleasant. And viscous.

Reeking mostly of Red Bull and regret, if you had to guess.

Joel took a big step back, and then he took another.

“Da-a-adgummit, girl, what the—”

He turned away just in time to miss the sight of you emptying your guts on the ground, but not quite fast enough to be spared the sounds of you retching. They were loud. Joel Miller was known to be a largely imperturbable force around these parts, but even he was made to feel queasy hearing that. Out of habit, he clapped his hand to his own gut and stumbled off. He stared at the bar, then at his car, then at the gravel crushed under his feet for what felt like the longest time. Then his gaze lingered to his lower half, and he thought:

‘Please, please don’t gimme no daughters. Please.’

He was forty-five. The time for making babies and raising daughters to be anything like a woman of your ilk was probably long past him. All the same, he kept his gaze on his crotch and sighed. Balls, you better not betray me.

When he heard the crunch of rocks, he turned around.

“HEY!”

Oh, no. No. Not tonight.

You were staggering to your car, keys in hand.

“Hey!” Joel called again, jogging after you.

It seemed the second shout had done him no more favors than the first. You were fumbling to get the key inside the door, and you looked as determined as ever.

Over your shoulder, you tossed back, careless:

“You ain’t the boss of me, Tommy Miller.”

You got the key to turn. You opened the door. You were just about to climb inside what looked to Joel to be the ugliest Dodge Ram pickup he’d seen in his life, when he grabbed your arm.

“It’s Joel,” he growled. Pinching your elbow tight as he tugged it back, “And you ain’t driving anywhere tonight.”

Somewhere in front of him, tilted away from his line of vision, you must’ve been grinning, because the next thing he heard from you was the scoff of a laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

Joel flipped you around to face him.

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Feeling a bit like a kid for mimicking your tone.

What were you, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You couldn’t have been a patron of a place like Tipsy Bison for very long, or else he would’ve recognized you tonight.

Then again, you struck him as the type to have had a fake ID since you were fifteen, so he really couldn’t know.

“I’m twenny-wuh-un,” you slurred up at him, exaggerated, once he’d made you step down from the running board and onto the ground. Answering his last unspoken question with the same, sleepy grin as before. Then lifting one of your hands to wag a finger in his face, “I can drink legal anywhere I want to in this country.”

“Not there,” Joel nodded to the interstate.

You looked to where he’d gestured and whistled. Standing and staring, like he had done to his crotch.

“Well fuck me-e!” you said next, dragging out the sound a childish amount, “You the law or somethin’, Mr. Joel?”

“Ain’t no cop.” Joel rolled his eyes.

You kept smiling. Then you turned on your heels.

And instead of trying to climb back into your truck, you sauntered off—in what direction, Joel couldn’t tell. You were more so bumbling about, turning in circles like the world’s most scantily-clad, semi-intoxicated ballerina. And then you stopped. You put your hands on your hips.

“‘Cause I’m the law,” you resumed in a slow, deliberate drawl. The twang you used was mostly feigned, “And you cain’t beat the law. Don’t nobody get away with that, not even a bunch’a Alabama smart alecks, believe you me.”

Joel didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. The man was Texas born and bred, and you knew it.

He communicated as much by pinning you with a wide, bewildered stare, and something in that seemed to amuse. You stared back, making your eyes bug out too.

“It’s a quote from a movie,” you said, after a beat, “You’ve never seen Fried Green Tomatoes before?”

Joel couldn’t say that he had.

Joel reckoned there was a lot more than just movies he didn’t share in common with you. Miss Twenty-One. Barely a year past the age he’d been when he’d moved out of the house and tried to make a living on his own.

This woman, this girl he saw twirling out in front of him now probably couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel if he’d asked you to. Joel shook his head and moved his feet, frown etching deep.

“Alright, princess. Up.”

You didn’t seem to understand, until he’d lifted you. Up.

You were thrown over his shoulder and carried to a truck much nicer than yours in less than fifteen seconds or so.

“Stinks in here,” you said as soon as he’d set you down.

Then, sniffing the air—and grinning:

“Aw, hell, Miller…you smoke?”

Joel wished he’d said no.

Wished he’d rolled his eyes and told you to pipe down, stop asking him questions. It would’ve made the drive a whole lot easier, and more peaceful. Nowhere near as painful, either, if he were being perfectly honest—the strain in his jeans had already gotten to be more than he could bear, and all you’d asked for was a pack of smokes.

“They call ‘em Cowboy Killers,” you said, matter-of-fact.

“I know what they’re called,” Joel grumbled in reply. Flicking the radio on and hoping to find a tune that would drown out the too-lovely, cloying voice you’d assumed as soon as you thought you might win a cigarette off of him. More chatty now than ever.

And for one, blissful moment, Toby Keith had you beat. The calm was fleeting. As soon as ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ started to drift through the car’s old speakers, you reached across and turned the knob to the left.

“Gross,” you muttered.

“What?”

“Got a light?”

“Blow me.”

Joel’s harsh, clipped tone was deliberate. The way he’d made himself mean—meaner than he’d been around a woman in a long, long time—was a choice. He couldn’t let your faux sweetness win him now. Not after you’d thrown two drinks in his face, mocked his truck, and foreclosed any possibility of getting laid by way of all your publicized infidelity philippics and shit-talking. Giving in to your charms from where you sat in the passenger seat now would only sink him further in his own esteem. Simply put, Joel’s ego couldn’t take it.

“Okie doke,” you said presently. Shrugging.

“Now keep your—HEY!”

Joel nearly swerved his truck off the road and into a ditch. Your deft little hands had slipped into his lap—and started palming his crotch through the denim.

He’d just managed to right the vehicle before jerking a look your way, staring at your hand, then your face:

“What the fuck was that?!”

“You said ‘blow me,’ Joel!” you huffed, and you seriously appeared as distraught as he was, “Sorry for listening!”

Joel grit his teeth with all the force of a cold steel trap.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts.” He gripped the wheel even tighter.

“I’m aware.”

“Where the hell do you live, anyway?”

You told him.

Your hand slipped down to the seat beside him.

And just as Joel let out what felt like the tiniest sigh of relief—he knew where that was, and the address sounded vaguely familiar—he yelped again. This time, he managed to keep control of his truck, but it was hard.

Your fingers had returned, and they were kneading the bulge under his jeans. Joel flushed from head to toe.

He didn’t have so much as half a mind to make you stop. He didn’t want to see you slink back over to your side of the car. But you were twenty-one, and he was forty-five. And you were both under the influence to some degree. And he was driving, for fuck’s sake. Shit like that only worked in dreams—not on a highway in a town like this.

He turned the radio dial to 75. At length, he heard it loud:

‘WHO’S YOUR DADDY? WHO’S YOUR BA-A-A-ABY?’

He saw you cringe.

“C’mon, Joel,” you groaned, “That’s…yuck.”

The fingers of the one hand kept digging, rubbing, but the other reached out and turned the music down again.

Joel shifted in his seat, feeling the pleasure start to bloom from the pit of his stomach, but not wanting to let you off that easy. Briefly, he looked from the road to you.

“What? You got a problem with Toby Keith?”

“I got a problem with anyone sayin’ ‘daddy’ like that.”

You unzipped his fly. Popped the button of his jeans from underneath the soft shelf of belly hanging over it, and held him, finally. You could only cup his erection through his boxers at that point, but the friction was enough to send a shiver through the whole of the old man’s body. He hadn’t been touched like that by a hand that wasn’t his own in…he couldn’t remember how long. He sighed.

“That why you’ve got your hand down the pants of a man old enough to be your father?” Joel quipped.

He couldn’t help it.

Your hand only gripped him tighter. From the passenger seat, you’d leaned over and started crawling. Scowling.

Your knees swiftly planted themselves on the old, upholstered cushion of the bucket seat, and you slipped a touch beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a hand that was smooth and soft and eager to please, you wrapped your fingers around that base and leaned in.

“You sound like you want me to say it,” you whispered.

Under your hand, he pulsed. His gaze stayed on the road.

“Don’t make no difference to me, sweet pea,” he said, and was amazed how even he was able to keep his tone:

“But those ‘Cowboy Killers’ you wanted…”

Your fingers curled tighter. Your head sank lower.

“…they don’t come cheap, y’know.”

Oh, you knew. He saw a smile snag at the corners of your lips as you brought them to his lap, and he had to force himself to look at the road again. It was empty and dark.

The tarmac stretched out for days. The fields rolling past warned sternly, ‘Don’t let her win,’ and something more in between each tree seemed to invite deliberation—remembrance, maybe. Joel was far too focused on the feel of your mouth to give the woods a second thought.

You’d worked the first inch between your lips in a slick, obscene sort of kiss; you made room for just the head and then toyed with a bead of precum leaking out of his slit. You licked it, squeezed the shaft in your hand, and hummed while the first real moan rumbled through him.

Joel turned to putty with just that flick of your tongue. He didn’t have to see your face to know he was losing.

On the wheel, his grip grew tighter, and he choked out:

“Ain’t your fuckin’ lollypop, kid.”

Then, dropping one hand to push down on your head—make you take him to the back of your throat in one go.

“Daddy wants you to suck him like a big girl, hear?”

At the base of his cock, he felt you gag. From the bottom of his heart, Joel knew there was no sound sweeter than that. He ran his fingers over your skull and tapped gently.

“If you want those smokes,” he told you—and really, with all the warmth and moisture of your mouth enveloping him now, he’d had to try to sound rougher than he was, “You’re gonna do what daddy says and suck him right.”

You gagged again, then squeezed his denim-clad leg with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his member.

Joel yanked you by your hair and made you look up.

Your cheeks were already smeared with spit and tears. Much to his surprise, he found your eyes alight and soft.

Suffused with desire, too, from what he could see.

“Yes, daddy.” You grinned up at him.

Joel knew if he let your gaze stay on his a second longer now he’d either crash his car, blow his load, or fall in love—and he simply refused to let you succeed on any of those fronts, so he shoved your face back down.

You sucked him obediently. Greedily. Mouth growing more pliant and wet by the second, as if your jaw and salivary glands had contrived to get him as close to release as possible, as quickly as they were able.

Joel took a left onto a road he had only a dim recognition as being connected to yours, and he got that feeling again. You were bobbing your head, taking him further, flattening your tongue along the bottom of his member when his pleasure swelled inside him. At the same time, he felt a sense of dread. His hands were shaking on the wheel. He didn’t dare steal a look down to the sweet, soaked, perfect little mouth sucking him dry, because he knew that feeling would only strike twice as hard. He had to cum, or make you stop, or bring his truck to a halt.

As it was, he felt five tiny crescents sink into his thigh as you gripped him tighter, and a noise bubbled up in your mouth. Your breathing went shallow, and your lips stretched wide—you were trying, and succeeding, in deep-throating his thick, throbbing, much-too-old-for-a-girl-her-age member down close to your windpipe, and Joel could feel it. He hit his blinker, not thinking, and saw a sign that marked your street. Trepidation hit him again.

Fully, this time, in a feeling that was more like terror.

He didn’t have another second to question it, either. By the time he had the old, lone farmhouse in his sights and his heart nearly halfway up his throat with fear, your own throat pulsed, and opened the last two inches to him in. Your nose found their home in the rough, grey, wiry hairs at the base of his belly, having swallowed him whole, and Joel quickly sensed the start of what he knew too well.

He came down your throat in one, two, three, four, five long spurts, and didn’t let his foot off the gas even once.

He saw your house, approaching closer now, and paled.

No fucking way.

You’d wanted to skip the whole way up your drive.

Spit still drying on your cheeks, cum resting comfortably in your belly, and a smile as bright as the sun on your face as you waved to the F-150 pulling off toward the road, you’d never felt more alive—or smug—in your life.

“Is your dad…Lucien Flores?” Joel had asked no more than a second after his dick slipped out of your mouth.

“The one and only.”

Somehow, his face got even paler. His jaw visibly clenched, and his palm hit the top of the wheel. Hard.

It was then that you’d learned your father had hired Joel Miller on as a full-time ranch hand sometime last week.

He’d remembered the address, vaguely, but didn’t connect the dots until he’d pulled up in front of your house and damn near punctured your windpipe with his pulsing dick from how fast he’d jumped up—and cum.

His spend had almost shot through your nose with the force of it, but you didn’t mind. Once he’d revealed the wild, gory, and admittedly hilarious details of his newfound employment, you were too busy laughing your ass off to care if he’d torn your throat in two with his dick.

“So you really are a cowboy, then,” you’d said, giggling.

Joel had scowled. Rolled his eyes. Practically turned the color of a tomato when you leaned in and kissed him.

Now you were waving to him from your front door.

Joel’s truck was slow to go. The taste of him was fresh.

And there, weighing light in your back pocket while you said goodbye was a brand new pack of Marlboro Reds.

2:21 AM

You were safely in bed. You checked your phone.

Aside from fourteen missed calls, you saw:

1:09 AM – Maria

DUDE

1:09 AM

TOMMY JUST CAME HOME

1:09 AM

THAT’S NOT HIM AT THE BAR

1:13 AM

IT’S JUST JOEL!! HIS BROTHER!!!

1:13 AM

ABORT ABORT ABORT

1:42 AM

DAVE SAID YOU BEAT JOEL UP???? CALL ME

1:54 AM – Dave York

Ur gonna fuck that old dude aren’t u

[toxicanonymity]

DOMESTICATION

MR. GHOSTFACE x F!READER 🔪 1.8K WORDS SUMMARY: He has his way with you while you're stuck. WARNINGS: 18+ Noncon, unsafe PIV, knife/blood, collar. Inspired by this scene and ask 🔪 Divider 🔪 MY FICS

Down on all fours like the prey you were, you tore the cloudy, plastic flap off its hinges and began to squeeze through the little door. You thought to scream but choked on the air you drew in. With your head through the hole, you coughed and glanced around. No one in sight. Fallen leaves tumbled and scraped across the driveway over the muffled sounds of the party.

No one was coming to save you.

You managed to wriggle halfway out, but no further. In the process of trying, your skirt got all bunched up. The cool air of the garage was hitting your ass, and your lace panties with their heart shaped cutout were doing nothing to help.

He had to be enjoying this. Probably admiring his knife with a smug tilt of his mask. Why was he so quiet?

You stopped struggling, taking a moment to catch your breath and think. He should've caught you by now. Was there any chance he left the garage? Any chance he wouldn't kill you?

He didn't have a habit of leaving them alive.

When you began to struggle again, a weak motor droned awake, making your stomach drop. The garage door began to lift, and the bottom edge of it dug into your stomach. Your heart sank with dread. Within seconds you’d likely be dead or mangled. Seconds, IF you were lucky. The thought of him dragging out your demise was even worse. You had seen his crime scenes.

Your knees lifted off the ground as the door made its ascent.

“Please,” you begged, shoes sliding against the floor.

The garage door creaked as it came to a halt. Your feet pedaled in futility, searching for the floor. You lifted your chest, trying to wriggle backwards. The only way out of this cursed little door-–if there even was a way out-–led right to his knife.

“Please, please, I won't run. I'll be good,” you begged through tears.

Silence. Unlike him.

“I'll be good,” you repeated quieter. "Please, Mr. Ghostface."

The motor started again, and you winced. But the door began to lower, allowing you a moment of relief as your bare knees met the cool, smooth floor.

His footsteps got louder and clearer as he crossed the space. Despite being unable to see him, you knew his presence loomed behind you-–you could feel it in your bones.

Sure enough, two gloved hands gripped your thighs, lifting your lower body for a moment and spreading your legs before setting your knees down further apart.

He made a place for himself between your knees, spreading them even wider. The smooth fabric of his robe pooled over your legs with him between them. He ran his gloved hands up your torso from your hips to your waist, pushing your skirt up further so it was up around your navel. Then, two satin thumbs lightly brushed your skin, tracing the heart-shaped cutout of your underwear.

After a moment of rustling behind you, a gloved finger slotted between your panties and ass. He pulled the garment out from your body, then the elastic tension released with a slice of his knife.

More rustling. His movement made the robe graze your butt. You weren't sure if you were imagining the sound of his belt coming undone behind you, but the thought of it made your face heat up.

The heavy fabric of his robe lifted off your calves, removing any doubt about what he was about to do. You tried to ignore the way your pussy throbbed.

The smooth head of his cock nudged your entrance, then slid wetly along your slit, forward and back. You hadn't realized just how aroused you were until feeling cock glide so smoothly against your well lubricated cunt. The head lingered at your front, nudging just the right spot. Your hips tilted all on their own, and he paused before sliding back to your wet little hole, resting the curve of his tip just inside.

He gripped your hips and pushed forward, intruding into your tight, warm sleeve with his thick, hard cock. Inch by inch, his stiff manhood pushed its way into you, the pressure of his girth pushing the breath out of your lungs. He slid all the way in without much difficulty and paused after bottoming out.

You took a much needed breath.

The skin of your chest radiated warmth. Your whole upper body was hot, despite the cool air.

Your lower body was warm and stuffed.

Two big, gloved hands wrapped around your thighs, then lifted. Your body lurched forward as far as it could, then he pulled you back on him, bottoming out deeper before he let your weight back down.

You braced your forearms on the driveway and he moved his hands up to hold your hips. He withdrew most of his length then squeezed your hips and pulled you back again as he slammed all the way back in. This wasn't bad… he was slow, almost careful.

Almost as though he could hear your thoughts, he seemed to drop all restraint. He buried his cock in you at a steadily increasing pace. You were shaken by just how good he felt inside you.

You bit your arm to stifle your moans, but it was no use. He'd have to hear your sounds of pleasure, as humiliating as it was. You removed your mouth from your bicep, leaving a string of spit as you took a deep breath.

As you inhaled the night air, it smelled like someone was having a bonfire... Someone, somewhere had come outside. Maybe even the neighbors.

But you didn't cry for help.

It was as though the cock in your cunt had gagged your throat, paralyzing you. It couldn't be that you didn't want him to stop, could it? No, you told yourself.

With every thrust, it felt more like a lie.

The rhythm of his pounding made your breasts jiggle. Your arms and wrists rubbed against the driveway, but you hardly felt it. Any discomfort was drowned out by the pleasant stretch of his girth, and the grip of your pussy clinging to his length as it pushed through you.

You closed your eyes and went somewhere else, giving into the feel-good chemicals coming to boil in your blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was the rush of survival and how much was his dick, but the combination had you hurtling toward the stratosphere. Full, you were packed full. God, it felt good. Even better, the more you let yourself feel it.

There was something freeing about completely submitting to his will. Letting him use you like a fucktoy. Giving in, letting him win, you could relax and let it all wash over you. With your body held in his hands and wrapped around his cock, you felt weightless. There was no longer pressure to fight back or flee. The only pressure was low in your gut, building toward something unthinkable. Closer with each heavy stroke.

You spasmed with a whimper.

He abruptly sped up to jackhammer pace, pushing you to the brink within seconds. You rode that edge for longer than you thought anyone could keep up that pace. You remembered to breathe, and then you saw stars. The hair on your neck stood up as you clung to the ethereal force that rippled through your loins. Pleasure shot through your core to each limb.

He slowed down as you clenched around him, then bottomed out deeper. It was like he’d created more space in you and packed it with more cock than you ever thought you'd take.

Until the warmth began to spread inside, you didn't realize he was coming. He had given no outward indication of it. You could hardly distinguish your throbbing from his, until yours faded and he was still twitching.

The grip of his hands eased up as he finished. He held you with your ass flush against his wiry hair, anchoring you. Plugging you.

After a minute, it started to feel colder outside. You felt more exposed, vulnerable, but still dared to imagine he might leave you alive.

One hand let go of you, and his robe shifted, brushing the back of your thigh. He pulled back your ruined underwear again. This time, he cut through the side and took it all the way off. Then, the surprisingly warm flat of his blade pressed against the side of your butt cheek. It slid up over the curve of your flesh.

Your heart pounded, reminding you to fear for your life.

The metal left your skin, only for the point of the blade to then prickle the center of your lower back. He held you still, and his cock twitched inside you as he began to draw blood.

You pleaded, “don't," but your insides throbbed.

A sharp, white heat followed the blade, curving upward, out, and down toward your crack. He repeated it on the other side to complete the heart. Your ears burned and pounded with their own pulse. Your inner ears began to ache.

Finally, his cock slid out of you, and after a moment of jostling, he got out from between your legs. Then, facing your side, his robe grazed your back as he hovered over you and grabbed hold of your waist. He tugged gently. You extended your arms in front of you and held them together as he pulled you back into the garage. warm blood trickled into your crack as you sat up. His gloved thumb smeared it upward.

Clear snot was coming out of your nose. You sniffed and he wiped that too, with a knuckle.

Holding his knife, he showed it to you as he stood up. He crossed the garage in just a few strides while you obediently sat back on your knees, adjusting your bra and fixing your hair.

He returned with his hands full.

Your face fell blank when you looked up to see a collar with a leash hanging off it. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He tilted his head, then stooped down to reach around your neck and fasten the it. The arms of his robe created a curtain of darkness as he adjusted the buckle and tested the tightness with two fingers between it and your neck.

He stepped back, holding the leash, and tilted his mask, waiting. There was something else in his other hand. He clicked it, then tossed it aside as the garage door began to rise. He reached down and helped you up. Then, he walked you down the driveway and into the night, with a warm mess trickling down your thighs.

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thank you for reading 🖤

and tysm for your comments and asks 🙏the feedback and encouragement really helps me.

[toxicanonymity]

leopard print.  

4.5k, joel x f!reader; special guest in tags

SUMMARY: Depraved one shot based on this. Joel mistakes you for a sex worker, offers you a ride, Fs you, shares you and is mildly possessive about it.

WARNINGS: I8+ strangers, drugs, talk of sex work, unsafe public P in V, dubcon (drugs/alc, not noticeably intoxicated), cockwarming, degradation, pantygagging, creampies, car stuff, orgasm delay m, vaginal plugging, voyeurism, sharing. Unedited. 

A/N: Night walks vibes, but different too. You'll see. New fantasy for myself 😫

"And if I was workin'?" You ask.  He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt. . . "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest. . . He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands, tucking it into his waistband.

You pull into the gas station on the back of your friend's motorcycle. "When I fuel up, I'm outta here," he warns you.  Oh well. If you have to walk back to your friend's condo, it's only two blocks.  He's grumpy – You and your girlfriends have been a hot mess at the pool all day playing floating beer pong and licking alcoholic whipped cream off each other.  He didn't wanna take you with him in the first place. No helmet, no reasonable shoes, not even a shirt.

You swing your leg off the motorcycle and as you step down onto the ground with your red wedges, you adjust your cheap, stretchy leopard print miniskirt. It matches, or clashes, with your leopard print bikini. You leave your sunglasses on as you enter the gas station with a chime. You fish a damp $20 out of your bikini top and survey the snacks. 

You feel someone lurking nearby, but ignore it until you hear a deep, smooth voice.  "Nice rosettes."

"s’cuse me?" 

You turn only slightly toward the man. Maybe homeless.  Good looking like a washed up rockstar. He gestures toward your bikini top. "That's a nice set'a rosettes." You look down at your tits spilling out of your push-up bikini top, then you look back at his face. Handsome man, really. Salt and pepper beard. Full head of dark hair with a little gray. Sunkissed skin. His eyes are kind and glassy. His nose twitches. "Oh, that's what leopards call their spots. Rosettes."  

You laugh uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, the ones on your top, those are pretty good.” His eyes drift down your body. “Skirt doesn’t really have’em right. Still nice though.” 

"Thanks." You politely nod and return to looking at the snacks, ignoring him in the corner of your eye. 

He doesn’t leave. He only gets closer.  He looks you up and down and steps into your personal space. He lowers his voice.  "You, uh, workin'?"

No, you don't work there. Do you look like you work at the gas station? Your stomach turns as you realize what he means, and your face goes cold. You stare at him, and your eyes drift to a hole in his shirt right below the collar. "Am I WHAT?" You ask incredulously, but trying to be quiet. Your whole body feels hot at the implication. You're humiliated, but for some reason it makes you warm between the thighs, too. 

His eyes go wide, and he puts his hands up in surrender. "Sorry," he mumbles, then adds, "A man can dream,” as he backs away. 

Your heart races and flutters and you scold yourself for being flattered.  You end up in line behind the guy. And the line takes forever, giving you plenty of time to fume and also wonder about him. It's nothing against sex work – Work is work. But you'd like to think you wouldn't be picking up a rough looking guy in a gas station.  Your friend's motorcycle revs outside. You look out the window and he's there by the curb waiting for you. You could drop the snacks on the closest rack and get the heck out.  But for some reason, you stay in line, and not because you’re that hungry. 

Someone needs to scoot behind you and you're forced to step into the sleazy man's personal space. He smells far better than you would have imagined. Woodsy and fresh. Somehow that makes all the difference, like he's not a filthy vagrant after all. He just had the aesthetic. Which is kinda hot.  Your friend on the motorcycle shakes his head, revs his engine again, then drives away.

"Asshole," you mutter.  

The man in front of you (your aspiring john) glances back and again mutters, "sorry." He scratches the back of his neck and exposes a chain under his ratty t-shirt. He really does have a nice head of hair, and now you see there’s a joint behind his ear, too.  Maybe he’s just a hippy. 

"Not you," you mumble. Well, not only him. Both of them. 

He turns to face you. "I know. Saw ya roll in." Great, so he thought that was your pimp. "Want a ride?" 

"Nah, I’m close," you mutter without looking right at him, then mumble, “thanks.” 

He wets his lips and stares at your chest for a moment before adding, "ya sure?" And now that you know this man smells good, wears a chain, and has a ride, you're throbbing. You cross your arms and bite your lip looking at his handsome nose while his kind eyes search yours in anticipation. 

"Okay," you whisper.

"Hell yeah," he whispers back with half a smile, getting a little closer, like the two of you are plotting something. 

"But I'm not workin'," you remind him.

"Heard ya the first time, gorgeous." He winks at you.

He tries to buy your food for you. When you don't let him, he nods with a smirk. He crosses his big arms, plastic bag that reads “thank you” hanging from one of them, and waits for you. Then he holds the door open on your way out. 

He checks you out as you pass through the door frame. You take your sunglasses off and put them in the bag with your snacks. 

"Name's Joel."  When you don't tell him yours, there’s a new smirk in his voice when he says, "don't gotta tell me your real name, if ya got a street name or somethin'. . ." 

"Jerk." You punch his arm and mostly suppress a laugh. 

He smiles and brings a massive hand to his bicep to pretend like it hurts, and for the first time it hits you how muscular he is.

"Truck's around back." He nods toward the back of the store. He walks slightly behind you. You feel his eyes boring a hole in your ass. Then you feel the warmth of his massive palm on the small of your back and he gets closer to you as he curves his hand around your side. "Too damn hot, baby. Had me thinkin' with my dick is all." Your face heats up and you glance at him. “I’ll carry that for ya.” He takes your bag. 

He's parked around a corner out of view. Between some bushes and a closed library for some reason. His truck is nice, and it's big. Tinted windows. The back window of the cab says Miller Brothers.  It's sunset, so you're grateful for the ride, lest any other low lifes make the same mistake on your walk back. When y'all get to his truck, he lets his hand slide down your hip. He opens the driver’s seat and puts the bags inside. Then he leans against his truck and adjusts himself. He's wearing pinstripe lounge pants.  "Can't really blame me, can ya?" He raises his eyebrows. He scans you top to bottom again.  "God damn, baby." 

You laugh and look down shyly, unsure whether to thank him. His eyes don't leave your body at all.  "To be fair, I thought you were homeless," you admit. 

He exhales a laugh and shrugs.  "Where ya headed?"

"Back to my friend’s pool."

"Hungry?"

"Nah."

"Smoke?" So that’s why you’re still outside the truck. You shouldn't, but you hesitate curiously.

You lean against the bed of his truck with your elbow resting on its edge, facing him.

"Fuck you're sexy," he mutters to himself. "Helluva rack but I'm an ass man, c'mere."

He turns toward you so he's leaning with his left side on the driver's side of the truck. He puts his right hand on your hip, rotating you so you're facing the truck. "Mmmmm." He puts his hand on the small of your back again, then slides it down–slowly, experimentally, cautiously enough for you to stop him. You don't. You're throbbing.  He grabs your ass–his palm is huge. You glance at him and watch his eyes study the curve of your body. Deep down in your body, you know you're gonna fuck him. You both know it. With his left hand he retrieves the joint from behind his ear and puts it in his mouth unlit. 

He sucks in a breath around the joint and lifts the flesh of your closest ass cheek. When he lets it drop, a growl escapes his chest. 

He fishes a lighter out of his soft pants pocket and lights up. and as he inhales, once again he can't keep his eyes off your body.  He takes the joint out of his mouth and turns your face toward his. You rotate toward him and he gets close, your bodies almost touching. He looks to your eyes for permission and begins to slowly exhale downward, so it's yours if you want it. You bring your mouth closer to his and he angles the smoke more toward your mouth as you suck it up. The moment seems to last forever and your lower belly is on fire. 

The sunset washes everything in a pink hue. When his lungs are empty, he murmurs "good girl" and rests his hand on your hip, lightly running his palm over your stretchy little miniskirt, feeling the bump toward the top hem where your bikini tie is. He peels the top of your stretchy skirt down to expose the knot and pulls at the string. You let him untie it. The parking lot is empty and wet from an earlier rain. 

"Fuck you're hot," he mutters with the strings of your bikini hanging over the miniskirt on that side. He takes another puff and passes you the joint. You take only a small inhale. "C'mere," he murmurs and his hand on your waist nudges your side off the truck and pulls you closer to him. He unties that side of your bottoms the same way. 

"And if I was workin'?" You ask. 

He gives a low whistle. "Wouldn't know where to start," he murmurs. "But I can tell ya how it'd end." He looks at your skirt.

You ask, "How's that?"

He doesn't take his eyes off your skirt. "She'd be wrecked n' beggin' for more, baby." Your fingers absentmindedly graze your chest, feeling where your tits spill over the cups. "Careful sugar," he chuckles. "Start me up, I won't ever stop." He sticks the joint in his mouth and shamelessly adjusts himself with both hands so his cock is upright and held in his waistband. He offers the joint again and you decline. He pinches it out and puts it back behind his ear.  "Damn," he mutters, still checking you out. He rubs his hand over his cock through his soft pants. "But ya *ain’t* workin'. . . so ya got nothin' to worry 'bout," he adds with a twinkle in his eye. "''Less ya want it . . ." God, you do. You want it. 

"Wrecked, huh?" You challenge him. 

He sighs and his big hand on your hot skin rotates you back toward the truck.  You hang your elbows over the side of the truck bed. He slinks behind you, then lets the heft of his cock against your ass crack. You gasp at how nice and hard it is. It moves against you and he sucks in a breath through his teeth then lets out a, "Mmm" as he exhales. He rolls his hips against you and uses both hands on your hips to pull your ass back into him so you're off the truck.

He holds you with one arm around your waist and his other hand slides between your legs from the front, up your skirt. "Bad girl, ain't ya?" His hand skims up your inner thigh to the crotch of your swimsuit, hanging loosely now that it's untied on both sides. "Yeah, ya are,” he answers for you. He slides two thick fingers through your folds and you sigh, tilting your head back.  "Spread your legs for a stranger?." His voice is deep and gruff and makes you throb.  “S’okay, not just any stranger.” His other hand grabs a tit while he runs his fingers through your dripping folds, then begins to circle your clit with his drenched digits. "Oh she's beggin' for it, baby," he murmurs. 

He lets your weight against the truck again so his forearm is between you and the metal with his hand still between your legs. His cock presses against your ass at a slow rhythm, making your insides swell with need for him as he fingers your clit. You squirm and your hips rock into his hand. You whimper and he brings his mouth to your ear. "Five hundred," he whispers. 

You gasp and he adds, "Not you. . .I'm workin' now, baby" as he speeds up on your clit. "I'm a penthouse boy, but that's your back alley discount." 

"Fuck you," you laugh.

"First one's free if i cum inside," he murmurs into your neck. Then he grabs the crotch of your swimsuit and yanks it down, pulling it off entirely. He pins you to the truck with his cock against your ass. He shoves the swimsuit in your mouth and ties the strings behind your head. You taste the chlorine and your own arousal. You turn your head to look behind you and he reassures you no one can see. 

His hand returns between your legs and he slips one, then two thick, wet fingers into you. Your cunt squelches obscenely around his digits. "Hell yeah, hear her beggin' for me?". He frees his cock from his pants and keeps fingering you.  Then he slides his fingers out and your walls twitch at the loss. He wedges his cock under your skirt and it’s so big you have to spread your legs more. He runs the head through your folds and you’re gushing. As the head massages your clit, you moan into the swimsuit in your mouth. "Want the first one free, don't ya?" He taunts into your neck, dragging his lips along the delicate skin. "Want me to fill up this filthy hole?" You nod, desperate to feel him inside you. "First with this cock, then all the cum ya can hold," he murmurs and you nod. You tilt your hips and spread your legs. "Good," he breathes. "Good girl." He notches himself with the curve of his tip just inside. "Ready to swallow me whole, hot damn." 

You push back on him and he says, "shit," and pushes into you.  He slides right into you, spreading your cunt wide open with a groan into your neck. It's a delicious stretch and he fills you to the brim, bottoming out on the first go.  "God damn, sugar." He retreats and slides his thick cock into you again, sheathing it entirely with your dripping cunt. You weren't even sure you could take this cock but it's perfect. "Fuck, you feel good," he pants and twitches inside you. If he comes early you're going to laugh but you pray he won't. He begins to roll his hips at a steady rhythm, and you moan into the swimsuit. He breathes heavily against your neck and bites and sucks you. You adjust your hips and push back on him to his rhythm. 

"Take it like a pro," he pants, "an' you're tight, too. Damn." His right hand works your clit.  His left hand comes to your throat, thumb on the left side of it, fingers on the right.  Choke me, you think. Do it. But he doesn't. He licks and kisses at the left side of your throat, by his thumb. Then his fingers on the right of your neck tense for leverage and he plants his teeth on the left side of your neck. He sucks hard and moans into you as he sucks more, like he's thirsty for blood. Your neck aches under the grip of his mouth. He breathes through his nose, and when he finally breaks with a gasp, he fucks you harder, grunting and sighing. 

You moan and he pulls your top down under your tits. A breeze and the rustling of branches nearby reminds you of the danger and you shiver. Your nipples harden under his forearm and palm and your cunt spasms. He groans behind your ear and you whimper and arch your back. 

"Gonna come on this cock?" 

You can only whimper again in response. 

"Go 'head, baby," he breathes and reaches for your clit again, groping a breast with his other hand.

You bite down on the swimsuit and your body jerks into his as you come undone. "Oh yeah," he sighs. "Fuck yeah, ohhh baby." He thrusts into you harder and you moan as your cunt chokes his cock, and with another powerful thrust he bottoms out and begins to erupt with a long sigh, pulsing warmly inside you. Then he reaches for your face and pulls down the swimsuit gag. As you gasp for air, he turns your head toward him. He kisses you deeply with his cock still rutting deep and slow inside you, pulsing the last of his seed into your depths. He moans into your mouth. And when your lips disconnect, he looks at you softly. Your eyes lock for a few seconds, more intimately than you’d expect. Then you feel awkward, and look at the back of his truck–Miller Brothers.  You say the first thing that comes to mind. "Joel Miller, huh?" You cringe at yourself. 

He raises his eyebrows. "What, like the sound'a Miller?" 

Your face goes hot and you make a joke to change the subject. "Your brother’a penthouse boy too?" 

Joel's cock slides out of you and you feel empty. He starts to fix your swimsuit top and says, "Somethin' like that. . .I'll introduce ya," as he finishes straightening it. What are you, dating now?

You start to protest, "Oh, I dunno," then pivot to something more agreeable but noncommittal. “Sure, maybe sometime.” 

—---

Joel walks you to the passenger side. What a gentleman.  He opens the door for you.  The seat isn't empty. There's a handsome man with longer, curly hair, a sexy smile, and his hands in his lap.  

"Name’s Tommy," Joel says behind you. "My lil bro." 

When Tommy lifts a hand to give you a little salute, you see his cock is out of his pj pants.   "Howdy, sweetheart." He's not even shy about it. He raises his eyebrows and holds it at attention for you,  thick and hard.  Butterflies swarm in your stomach and you can't take your eyes off it. "Kept the seat warm for ya," Tommy beams.

"Go on, sugar," Joel nods to Tommy's lap. "’fore my cum leaks out everywhere."

Your heart races and your clit throbs. It feels like you're in a dream. This is so lewd and vile. But you just got pounded in a parking lot, and who's gonna know, and who cares. You wanna sit on that cock. 

You look at Joel and he shrugs. "Don't gotta, but it's there." He leans in and gives you a kis, then murmurs "An’ she won't be leakin’ all over." He chuckles, then kisses you again. Damn, he’s a good kisser. When his head pulls back, you give him a devious, inquisitive look. and he says, "that's my girl." He helps you up and you scrunch up your skirt more. "She's hot as fuck, man," he tells his brother. 

You're facing the windshield, and it's like Tommy’s just part of the seat. It's a large truck so there's enough clearance over your head.  Tommy's large hands come to your thighs. 

"I got her," Joel says and Tommy moves his right hand to hold his cock for you. You tilt your hips and Tommy notches himself at your hole, which is still pulsing with an occasional aftershock. Before too much of Joel's cum can trickle down Tommy's cock, they both pull you down on him and you're stuffed full once again. 

"Good girl," Tommy whispers. Joel looks at you lustily and reaches his hand between your legs. He gives your clit a little rub, and you spasm on Tommy’s cock with an aftershock from Joel. 

"Goddamn," Tommy mutters. 

"Yeah," Joel whispers, then gives you another kiss.  He shoots Tommy a serious look.  "Don't fuckin' come inside her."

"I know, I know." Tommy hugs you back into his broad chest. "I’ain’t nothin' but a seat, honey. A seat and a plug." The crudeness makes you twitch.

Joel shuts the passenger door and goes back around to the driver's side. Tommy murmurs softly behind your ear. "Ya feel nice, though."

Joel buckles his seatbelt and starts the engine.  Tommy rests his hands casually on your hips and his thick cock twitches inside you. He clears his throat.

"Tellin' ya, man," Joel warns. 

"Nothin' to worry 'bout, brother,"  Tommy reassures him, playing it cool. "You used her up good." 

Joel backs up the truck and asks, "Where to?" 

You tell him the building. It's already in view in the distance as you approach the street to pull out from the parking lot. "There," you point to it. Joel opens his Takis and puts a few in his mouth. Your walls are hugging Tommy's cock as Joel eats his snack and drives. You bounce on Tommy's thick cock as Joel pulls onto the main street, immediately getting stuck at a red light.  You moan, and Tommy stifles a grunt then whispers "shhhh,"  into your hair.  It's not a long way. But you're stuck in traffic.  

"What do you listen to?" Joel asks and turns on the radio. It's on the local classic rock station.

"That works," you mumble, laid back against Tommy's barrel chest with your eyes half closed. While Joel is focused on the road, Tommy wedges his hand under one of the push-up cups of your bikini. 

Tommy sighs, then whispers into your right ear where Joel can’t see. "Sexy little thing ain't ya." His cock twitches. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to moan. He lightly pinches your nipple then fixes your suit again. God his cock feels good. You're almost to your friends condo, but you don't want it to be over. 

"Can you, uh–can you take me to my place instead?" You ask

Joel looks at you and cocks an eyebrow. "Not back to the pool?" You shake your head sleepily. "Tuckered out, huh?” he chuckles.  “That's okay baby. Where ya live?" 

You tell him the apartment complex. It's a couple miles further. "Good girl," Tommy whispers, pleased to have you on his cock a little longer. As Joel drives, you feel Tommy subtly lifting his hips. The bumps in the road have you bouncing on him too. And with the slow traffic, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a miniskirt,  you catch a few stares, even through the dark tinted windows. It turns you on more. It turns Joel on, too. He's hard again and rubbing himself over his pj's which are wrecked with drying drops of his cum, your juices, and a darker new spot of precum.  Tommy’s cock is so thick, and it throbs, and occasionally twitches, and you can so freshly conjure the feeling of Joel pounding you too, whispering filth into your ear.  

Your body’s building toward another climax, but you’re trying not to let it. Your cunt spasms, and Tommy's chest expands under your back with a deep inhale. "Shhh, it's okay," he murmurs. You’re almost there. 

"Joel, i–" you reach over for him. He looks at your face and does a double take. "Shit," he peels into the closest corner. "It's okay, hold on for me sugar."

Tommy moans, trying so hard not to cum.  "You better fuckin not,” Joel growls at Tommy.  Joel takes off his seat belt as he parks and urgently takes his cock out. "C'mere baby," Joel reaches for you. Tommy groans and you feel a little pulse as he hoists you off his cock. Your cunt twitches, trying to hang onto Tommy, not wanting to let him go.  Tommy erupts as his cock slides out of you and his cum paints your folds.  He moans through it, cock in his hand, cum gurgling onto his fist, head tilted back, eyes closed. 

Meanwhile Joel pulls you toward him and your cunt is beginning to flutter ever so slightly around nothing, but you’re staving off a full climax.  You kneel on the empty seat between them and Joel urgently pulls you into straddling him. His cheeks are flushed and his face is serious. "yeah, I got ya baby." He wets his lips, then his mouth hangs open as his tip finds your hole and he pulls you down on his dick, even thicker than you remember. "Hell yeah," he whispers and you're packed full of cock again. "Uungghh yeah," Joel lifts his hips into you and you cum on his cock right away. 

"Oh fuck," you gasp, "Joel–ugghgh," you moan unrestrained and tilt your head back. He catches it in his hand and brings your face to his. You clench around his cock and he fucks up into you slowly. Your lips break with moans from each of you as you cum on his cock and he moves you. He hugs you into him and latches onto the unmarked side of your neck. Then your clit is grinding into him as he keeps moving you on him while your climax wanes. 

"So damn hot, baby. Really take it like a pro." His words make you spasm again, and Joel groans. He rocks you on his cock, biting his lip. You can tell from how quiet he is, he’s trying not to cum so fast. But he can’t help it and after a minute, he asks,  "Ready for another load?" You nod, desperate to feel him pulse inside you.  "Think ya can handle it?"

You nod and roll your hips into him. You could come again, too. 

"Hell yeah, that's my bad girl–oh, fuck, fuck–ohhh.” He grunts from the back of his throat as his cock pulses enormously inside you, adding to his first load. As his moan wanes, his lips latch onto yours again. Your lips move together, and you begin to clench around his cock again, whimpering into his mouth with the pleasure. It seems to last forever. When your lips break, he reads your eye and mutters, "fuck, you're hot.”

He breathes heavily while his pulses continue but echo smaller and smaller, as with your aftershocks on him. He sits back against the seat for a moment catching his breath. "You're somethin' else," he whispers, then looks around outside. "What unit are you?" 

You tell him your apartment number and point out the building. You stay impaled on his cock as he drives to that building. He nuzzles his nose and mouth into your neck. He parks the car, then spends another moment with you.  He nibbles your neck, presses sweet kisses into your jaw, fixes your hair, then whispers, "Nice to meet ya, sugar." 

Tommy gets out of the truck and walks around to the driver’s side, and opens Joel’s door. Joel kisses you goodbye, deeply, with tongue, and helps hoist you off his cock. Tommy helps you down out of the truck while Joel tucks his cock away.  Tommy gives you a hug and kisses you on the cheek.  Then they drive away and leave you wrecked and wanting more. 

---------

thank you so much for reading and engaging! I really love and appreciate y'all.

For more Joel and Tommy, check out stuffing.

if you liked this joel... you'd like the night walks AU, If you like the sharing with a hint of dominance/possessiveness, I think walkintotheriveranddisappear has a gang bang where only Joel can cum inside. I have Tommy's hard day (established free use relationship with Joel)

toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs.

EDIT - alright I've gotten several messages this week saying notifs aren't working. I think they might be delayed for some people but idk what to do. I guess I'm temporarily bringing this back but idk if it's even the most recent list 🤡 please subscribe to notifs on toxicfics if you haven't already. If you haven't been getting notifs, you can see the most recent fics you missed on toxicfics.

All Joel: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz

@within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @daddy-dins-girl

[cavillscurls]

older!boyfriend joel miller masterlist ᡣ𐭩

a collection of stories/imagines about older!boyfriend joel & younger!girlfriend reader. no outbreak au. | please heed the individual warnings!

➜ night out

➜ first times (nsfw, 18+)

➜ meet cute!

➜ slumber party

tag/general musings

note: these are listed in the order they were published, not chronologically!! they don’t have to be read in order!

[loveisgame-deactivated20251211]

[bakmasenonlara]

Kudurmuş eleman

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star Masterlist✨

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

A/N: You asked for more, so I am giving you more parts! I really really love these two and hope you enjoy reading more about them 🩷

Summary: Joel’s your broad, handsome bodyguard that you flirt with and secretly dream about. Little do you know, he can’t seem to keep his eyes or his hands off you for long. The two of you should know better, but after Coachella it’s so obvious that you can’t stay away from one another. Could he be your end game?

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only

Tags: Flirting, pining, oral receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, Joel is reader’s bodyguard, reader is a pop star, fame, paparazzi, lots of feelings and smut, no use y/n, no outbreak au, reader has hair and is able bodied, each chapter will have updated tags, age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)

Part 1: Kiss Me at Coachella

Part 2: Flashing Lights and Heated Stares (Coming beginning of June!)

[punkshort]

Night Shift

Thank you anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x nurse!reader

Summary: It was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room until a handsome contractor gets admitted and adds some excitement to your life.

Warnings: language, descriptions of wounds/injuries/blood (typical hospital junk), needles, drugs (the medical kind), fluff, flirting, rom-com vibes, soft!joel, just a little smut (18+ MDNI)

WC: 7.3K

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I'm fully aware some things I'm about to describe is probably incorrect (medically) but let's suspend that disbelief for a fun, fluffy story, shall we?

"Dr. Fisher wants you in room 504, but if you're too busy, I would be more than willing to go," Lily said, leaning over the counter with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I haven't had anything to do other than charts for the past two hours, how on earth could I be too busy?" you asked, standing up and draping your stethoscope around your neck. Then you froze, realizing Lily never tries to take a patient off your hands. "Wait... why are you offering?"

She grinned and flopped down in the swivel chair next to you, crossing her legs. "The guy is smokin' hot," she whispered with a wink. "I just got a glimpse when I brought Fisher the computer cart, but..." she exhaled loudly and fanned her face. "Even with all the blood, you can tell he's a fox."

"Blood?!" you exclaimed, jogging around the nurse's desk, "why didn't you tell me?"

"He's stable, it's not-" Lily began, but you were already hustling down the hall. When you skidded to a stop outside room 504, you were relieved there wasn't a flurry of staff running in and out of the room, indicating whatever was waiting for you wasn't life threatening.

As you entered through the open door, you rapped two knuckles on the wood to announce your presence. Dr. Fisher, standing at the patient's bedside and blocking your view, glanced over his shoulder and nodded while you washed your hands. You heard him talking to a man with a deeper southern drawl than you were used to, and by the sound of it, he was in pain. You plucked two gloves from the box on the wall and snapped the latex on, turning around with a practiced smile right as Dr. Fisher introduced you by name.

Lily was right. Your eyes landed on a painfully good looking, dark haired man sitting up in the bed with one leg draped over the side, as if he was getting ready to bolt. You tried to not let your gaze linger, but the way his thighs stretched out his worn, bloody jeans and his shoulders filled out his ripped flannel held your attention longer than you expected. He first glanced over at you right when you noticed the laceration on his forearm and you went into autopilot.

You began to pull various instruments from a cabinet without instruction, already anticipating what the doctor would need before he began to rattle off requests, which you mentally jotted down and nodded in acknowledgement when he was finished.

"I'm gonna give you a local anesthetic and then clean and stitch this up. Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Miller?" Dr. Fisher asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still stuck on you as you worked. "Call me Joel," he added, his eyes flicking up to the doctor once he realized he was staring. Tommy smirked from the corner of the room and tucked his chin to his chest.

"Only thing he's allergic to is askin' for help," Tommy joked. You startled and glanced over your shoulder. Somehow you had missed the second man in the room when you first walked in. Joel scowled in his direction.

"Ignore my brother," Joel muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you prep him and give him 20MLs of the local? I'll be right back, I have another patient waiting to get discharged," Dr. Fisher said to Joel, who nodded and lifted his leg onto the bed, resigning himself to a long night.

Your gaze drifted over his clothes, ruined by all the blood that had gushed from his arm. "This looks pretty nasty. What happened tonight, Joel?" you asked, using your typical distraction technique while you worked unwrapping instruments and lying them out on a tray. When he didn't answer right away, you met his gaze and smiled, assuming he was squeamish and doing to do your best to reassure him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Um, got hurt at work."

You frowned, your eyes roaming over his face now that you were closer and hoping he didn't notice the way you stared a moment too long at his soft looking lips. "What do you do that you're working so late?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, mesmerized by the way you effortlessly moved around, probably just going through the motions but to him, it looked so impressive. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster and he glared up at it, angry at the heart monitor for betraying him.

"Lots of things need to be built at midnight?" you teased, making him chuckle.

"I'm behind on a project and my daughter had a sleepover tonight so I figured I'd do a little extra work," he explained, wincing when he moved his injured arm.

You nodded, latching on to the new piece of information. You loved it when patients had kids. It was a great way to keep them talking and calm. But right as you were about to ask her name, the second man chimed in.

"Yeah, 'cause otherwise he'd be home alone," he said, making the both of you stop and stare at him. His eyes bounced back and forth between you both. "'Cause he's single," he added after a beat, making both you and Joel blush.

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel muttered under his breath, and you forced out a polite laugh before switching gears.

"Alright, let's see," you said, gently lifting his arm and peeling back the sleeve of his flannel. You made a face and Joel tensed.

"What is it?"

"I wish I had better news," you sighed, locking eyes with him. "I'm gonna have to cut the sleeve off this shirt," you said solemnly.

His face broke out into a huge smile, one that reached his beautiful brown eyes and creased his tanned skin, and you giggled before reaching for the scissors.

"It's alright, darlin'," he said, still smiling as you began to cut through the fabric, "ain't got no fashion sense, anyway."

"'Cause he's single," Tommy said again from across the room. Joel swiveled his head and mouthed something angrily in his direction but you just grinned and stayed focused, pulling the sleeve away and making sure not to brush up against his wound.

"Okay, Joel, how are you around needles?" you asked, turning your back to him and blocking his view while you prepped a syringe with local anesthetic. "Do I need to call someone in here to catch you if you faint?"

He scoffed. "Hell no, I'll be -" you turned around with the needle in your hand and he gulped, "-fine."

You eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, so you decided to just make it as fast as possible. Cleaning the skin with some alcohol, you slid the needle into his arm near the laceration and injected the medicine. After, you pressed a piece of cotton against the injection site and hid the needle behind you on the tray.

"All done, you did great," you said, and he looked at you in surprise.

"That's it? Hardly felt a thing."

You smiled and shrugged. "I've been doing this a while," you said. You always loved when patients commented on how gentle you were. It made you feel proud and good at your rather thankless job.

"Yeah? How long?" he asked, watching as you pulled out another vial of medicine.

"Almost five years," you told him, filling another syringe and wiping an alcohol pad on his inner elbow.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the pain," you said, "it's mild but you might feel a little out of it for a couple hours. It will help you relax so the doctor can stitch you up."

He nodded and you quickly slipped the needle in and out, just like before.

"Okay, all done with needles, I promise," you told him, disposing of them both in a red sharps container bolted to the wall by the sink.

"Whoa," Joel said softly after a minute, and you looked up at him then smiled when you saw that familiar, spaced out look in his eyes.

"Feeling it?" you asked, and he slowly nodded.

"Reckon I am."

"That's good. Just try to relax, the doctor will be back soon," you said, turning your attention to the computer cart. You were typing in your notes and scanning the vials of medicine to log into Joel's chart when Tommy's phone rang.

"It's Maria, probably wonderin' what the hell's goin' on," Tommy told Joel as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said right before you heard him answer the phone and walk out into the hallway for some privacy.

Joel's head rolled to the side and he gazed over at you, smiling like a fool at the way your eyebrows pinched together as you focused on whatever you were typing.

"You're real good at this," he mumbled. You glanced at him, taking a break from the computer, and smiled.

"Thank you."

"How long you been doin' this?"

You stifled your laughter and answered the question again. "Almost five years."

He nodded, completely unaware. His eyes looked glazed over and he gave you a lazy smile. "You're real pretty."

Even though you knew it was the drugs talking, your heart still skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You must be feeling better, huh?" you joked, wrapping a blood pressure sleeve around his arm. He lightly took your wrist in his hand, making you pause and catch his eye. He looked so earnest and sincere that you almost believed him when he said, "it ain't the drugs. I mean it. Can't keep my eyes off you, darlin'."

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the two of you silently assessed the other. You searched his face but all you could find was a raw vulnerability while he waited for you to say something. And you really wanted to be honest, but you knew it was unprofessional and you had no idea what was even allowed but you had to assume your job would be at risk if you said what you really wanted to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to say anything at all because Dr. Fisher chose that moment to return, breezing into the room with his white coat fluttering behind him.

"How're you feeling, Joel?" he asked from the sink as he washed his hands. You stepped back and focused on the computer screen, still feeling the heat of Joel's gaze on your face as you typed.

"Much better," he said, slowly dragging his eyes away from you. Tommy reentered the room, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and dodging Dr. Fisher as he turned around to face Joel.

"That's good. Let's get you patched up and back home, how's that sound?" he said, and you abandoned the computer to stand at his side, your eyes cast down as you awaited the doctor's instructions.

Dr. Fisher worked quickly and had Joel's laceration closed up in under thirty minutes, the whole time checking in with him to make sure he didn't feel anything. You caught Joel staring at you more than once during the procedure and you had to bite back a grin, but each time he noticed and he smiled that same dazzling smile that reached his eyes.

Once the stitches were done, Joel - but mostly Tommy - listened to Dr. Fisher's instructions on how to keep it dry and clean and to follow up with his own practitioner the next business day to schedule an appointment. Then he left, bidding the brothers a good night after he explained you would wrap up the wound and process his discharge papers.

You were very gentle as you wrapped his arm, quietly asking if it was too tight or if anything hurt. He would shake his head and continue to just gaze adoringly at you while you worked, completely unbothered by his brother just a few feet away witnessing his utter captivation.

"Okay, Joel. Let's get you out of here," you sighed, turning back to the computer cart.

"Already?" he asked, and you had to hold back your laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"It's a slow night, we were able to get you in and out much quicker than normal," you explained, hitting the print button on the computer screen.

"Well, but..." he trailed off, looking back and forth between you and Tommy as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm single!" he practically shouted when you gave him a pen to sign his papers. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Tommy laughed from his chair in the corner of the room.

"I know, your brother mentioned it a couple times," you replied as your face grew hot once again. "Um, can you just sign here, and-"

"Are you single?" he asked, cutting you off. You looked up from the papers to find his beautiful brown eyes all wide and hopeful, completely ignoring the clipboard in front of him.

"Yes," you finally answered, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Great!" he exclaimed, throwing his good arm up in the air with a huge grin. Tommy cleared his throat and stood up.

"I think what he's tryin' to do is ask for your number," he said. Joel nodded, not even sparing a glance in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, sorry," Joel said sheepishly, then he rubbed his face like he could make the brain fog dissipate. "Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now from excitement. You bit your lip and glanced over your shoulder at the open door before turning back to Joel.

"I don't know, I might get in trouble..." you began, and he quickly sat up in bed.

"I won't tell anyone," Joel said, and his voice was so serious that you couldn't help but laugh. Tommy grinned and pulled out his wallet.

"How 'bout this. What if I left Joel's business card, in case you ever needed a contractor?" Tommy offered, holding out the card between two fingers. You gingerly accepted and briefly glanced down at it. "That's his work number but this one is his cell," Tommy continued, pointing to each number respectively, "you're better off gettin' ahold of him on that one. Y'know, for any projects you might need done."

Joel gave Tommy the most grateful look. "I love you, Tommy."

"Alright, that's enough. I oughta get you back home," Tommy said with a crooked grin. You laughed and pocketed Joel's card, standing by in case he needed any assistance getting up. But before Joel and Tommy exited the room, Joel turned to you and reached out for your hand. You hesitated for a moment before stretching out your arm and allowing his thick fingers to wrap themselves around your hand.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told you, his tone deathly serious. You fought back a smile and instead gave him a firm nod.

"You're very welcome, Joel."

His business card stayed folded up in your scrubs pocket for a week, your fingers occasionally brushing up against it like a talisman as you worked.

You never told Lily about that night but you did try to sneakily look into the legality of potentially dating a former patient, but you got too nervous someone would see over your shoulder and didn't get very far.

One day, a fellow nurse who had been working at the hospital for nearly fifteen years made a comment about a patient saying something suggestive to a male doctor and she thought the doctor in question didn't handle it properly.

"What do you mean?"

"He laughed and said something along the lines of I'm too old for you," she had scoffed. "He should have shut it down right away. If the wrong person heard it, he could get into serious trouble."

That was all you needed to hear to put you off from the idea.

That evening, you took Joel's business card out of your pocket and threw it in the trash, then went to take a shower. But afterwards, when you had poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate the start of three days in a row off from work, you found yourself hovering over the garbage and staring at the folded up piece of paper, sitting right on top of a napkin.

With a sigh, you plucked it out of the garbage and stuck it to your fridge, then forced yourself to leave the room.

There was nothing wrong with keeping the card if you weren't going to call. Right?

It pained you to go so close to the hospital on one of your well deserved days off, but you couldn't resist the chocolate croissants sold at a café around the corner. They were baked fresh daily and always served warm and after a grueling four days in a row at work, you felt you deserved a treat. So that was how you found yourself waiting at the counter for your usual order, surrounded by various professionals hurrying to grab their coffees before chaining themselves to a desk for the remainder of the day. It was busy, but the barista who usually took care of you made sure to prioritize your order, shooting you a quick wink before she slid your croissant and coffee across the counter. You mouthed thank you and turned to leave, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

When you stepped outside, out of habit you glanced towards the hospital, then froze. You blinked a few times, your coffee halfway to your lips as you stared at the familiar looking man pacing back and forth on the sidewalk with his head angled toward the ground. You began to walk in his direction, squinting against the sun and wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you, but it really was him.

"Joel?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, your eyes drifting around to see if he was with anybody.

"Huh?" he asked, then immediately shook his head, "yes, I mean... no, everythin's fine." He nervously jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "I, uh, came to see you, actually," he said, glancing down at your clothes, noticing you weren't in your scrubs. "Are you workin'?"

You looked down at your jeans before meeting his gaze again. "No, I have the day off, I was just getting coffee," you jutted your thumb over your shoulder, back towards the café, and you realized how bizarre the conversation was so far. "Why are you here to see me?"

He gave you a nervous smile and looked away, watching as an ambulance veered noisily into the parking lot. "I came to apologize. 'Bout the other week. Tommy told me what I said and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Wasn't my intention, I guess it was all the meds." He finally dragged his eyes back to you and watched as something flickered across your face.

"Oh," you managed to squeak out. Even though you assumed as much, it still stung to hear he didn't mean what he said. "It's fine. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It comes with the territory," you told him with a soft laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. He nodded and looked behind you, trying to think of something else to say but when the silence became too much, you took a step back.

"I should go, but it was nice to see you. I'm glad the arm-"

"Wait - uh," he scratched his beard and took a deep breath. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, why didn't you call?"

You blinked rapidly and thought about it for a moment before frowning.

"I thought you said it was the drugs talking?" you countered, avoiding his question with one of your own.

"I lied."

"You lied?" you repeated, raising your eyebrows. He nodded.

"More like I panicked," he added, then raked his fingers through his hair with a dry laugh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this, ain't I?"

You giggled and his face brightened at the sound.

"A little, but it's okay. It's cute," you told him, feeling your cheeks warm at your own admission. He grinned.

"Alright, then why didn't you call?" he asked again.

"I panicked," you replied, then after a pause, the both of you burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"Goddamn, reckon we don't stand a chance, do we?" Joel said, tilting his head to the side, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that. Why don't we find out?"

He immediately pulled out his phone.

"It's the least we could do. Y'know. For research."

"Research, huh?" but you couldn't keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

"Yeah. Can two panicky individuals who can't seem to properly flirt their way out of a paper bag make it work?"

"Sounds like a tagline for a terrible book," you teased while simultaneously snatching his phone out of his hand and typing your number into a new text. "How could I resist?"

"I promise this is where the cheesiness ends," he chuckled, pocketing his phone.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in that?"

Joel thought about it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful what you wish for, little lady, or else we'll be havin' a picnic in the park and watchin' the sunset for our first date."

You laughed heartily at that. "Pulling out all the cheesy stops?"

"Absolutely," Joel winked, making your heart flutter.

"Alright then. Do your worst," you said, a stupid grin still plastered across your face as you took a step back the way you came.

"I'm plannin' it all out already," he said, tapping the side of his head. You giggled and gave him a little wave goodbye before turning around and heading towards home.

Joel didn't waste any time.

He had texted you within an hour with just a link and nothing else. You clicked it and immediately grinned when a website to a paint and sip place in downtown Austin opened up.

You: starting off strong - Painting with a Twist?

Joel: Get it? A twist? Because they serve alcohol there.

You laughed out loud alone in your living room. You thought the meds made him funny but you were delighted to discover he was still just as funny all on his own.

You: I got it, thanks. Very cheesy :)

Joel: So when can I take you? I want to see you paint the next greatest masterpiece.

You: I'm off the next two days and then I work the following four

Joel: You feel up for it tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?

You: tomorrow is great!

Joel: Looking forward to it, little lady.

To keep up with the cheesy theme, Joel picked you up the next evening with a singular red rose, which he had hidden behind his back so he could reveal it to you with a flourish, immediately making you laugh. He offered his arm as he led you down the driveway to his truck while commenting something about the weather but you weren't entirely certain because you couldn't stop staring at his hair, which was slicked back a bit since the last time you saw him and the longer you stared, you began to think he might have trimmed his beard, as well. You bit back your smile at the endearing effort he was putting into your date while trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that still wondered if this was going to get you in trouble at work.

When you arrived at the painting studio, you quickly realized the two of you were the youngest ones there, and not only that but Joel was the only man there. You stifled your laughter as you grabbed a couple drinks and picked your seats. Once behind the safety of your easels, you cupped your hand over your mouth and giggled into your palm. Joel chuckled and ducked down so nobody would overhear him.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

You began to laugh even harder, drawing the attention from some of the older women. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you shook your head.

"I don't know!" you wheezed when you finally got ahold of yourself. You took a deep breath and wiped your eye. "You couldn't have planned this any better." He laughed and rubbed his palm over his mouth when he began to get looks.

The painting that evening was a bouquet of white hydrangeas in a wide vase. Simple enough, or so you both thought. It became quickly apparent that Joel didn't have a creative bone in his body, and while you thought you weren't much better, when you glanced over at his and noticed his vase and flowers were beginning to take on a decidedly more phallic shape, you completely lost it.

He grinned when you had to drop your paintbrush so you could clutch your stomach while you doubled over, doing your best to keep as quiet as possible, but you were failing miserably. A lady nearby cleared her throat to convey her irritation so you slid down from your stool and told Joel you would be right back, then disappeared into the bathroom to collect yourself. By the time you emerged, the teacher who was leading the class had jumped in to try and help Joel create more distinguishable flowers, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

Once the class was over, the teacher went around to take pictures of everyone holding up their paintings with the people they came with that evening. When she got to you, Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you close. Right before she took the picture, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush and his smile to reach his eyes.

When he dropped you off at home, he walked you to the door.

"So I was thinkin' for our second date we can either do bowling or trivia night," he said with a little smile. You cocked your head to the side as you thought about it.

"Both are excellent options. You can tell a lot about somebody by the way they handle winning and losing," you mused. He grinned and leaned his shoulder against your doorframe as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to decide. "Let's do bowling," you finally said. He gave a firm nod and straightened up.

"Bowling it is."

"After tomorrow, I work four nights in a row," you reminded him.

He shrugged. "So let's do it tomorrow."

"Really?" you asked, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Are you sure? What about your daughter?"

"I'm sure Tommy can watch her. And even if he can't, she's old enough now to stay on her own for a few hours."

You nodded and glanced down at your hands, clutching your painting at your side.

"What does she think about you dating?" you asked nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing back up at him.

"She's all for it. She's fourteen now, practically kicks me outta the house every chance she gets," he said with a chuckle.

You nodded again and tried to sound casual when you asked, "are you seeing anybody else, or..." You trailed off as you felt your face warm up, feeling slightly vulnerable, but he quickly put your mind at ease. He stepped forward and pinched your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him through your eyelashes.

"No," he said softly, "are you?"

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to lose his touch just yet. "No."

He smiled. "Good."

He tilted your face up a bit more then swooped down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine even though it was rather innocent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little lady," he murmured before dropping his hand from your chin and taking a step back. You bit your lip and smiled.

"Can't wait."

While Joel wasn't a very good painter, he turned out to be a rather good bowler. Better than you, at least, which wasn't saying much. So after a couple beers, you flirtatiously asked him to help you with your form, to which he eagerly agreed. He walked you up to the lane and stood behind you, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet just so while the bowling ball dangled at your side with a stupid grin on your face.

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna swing this leg back," he said, tucking his chin into your shoulder and reaching down to tap the front of your thigh. You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, which just caused him to do it even more. You laughed harder and tried to squirm away but he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you back against him, nuzzling into your neck enthusiastically. You twisted your head towards him, trying to protect your neck, but it was no use, so instead you pressed your lips against his, finally stopping his assault. Both of you were well aware of the public setting, surrounded by families, so you fought the urge to deepen the kiss but you did linger a little longer than was necessary before breaking away with a sigh. He smiled down at you, his cheeks a little pink, either from the alcohol or the public display of affection.

"I like you," he said earnestly.

"I like you, too," you whispered, watching the way his eyes sparkled. Even if it was only two dates, you could tell the connection you had was strong. You had to make it your mission to figure out the policy at work before things went any further.

"Hey, Lily," you said the next day, getting the other nurse's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever dated anyone from here?" you asked as quietly as you could. She grinned and leaned against the counter.

"Oh, yeah. A few," she said mischievously before glancing around and leaning forward. "I went on a few dates with Dr. Adams last year. When I first started, I was hanging out with Richie, the pharmacist downstairs, but I swear when I found out he was married I broke it off. I felt bad about that one," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh! Then there was that one resident who worked here for a few months... Mike? He was tall with brown hair and had that tattoo-"

"No, I mean like, patients?" you tried again, and she pursed her lips.

"I've had a few ask me out but I never took them up on it. Why?"

"No reason," you said quickly, "but if you were interested, could you? Like, would we get fired or get our license revoked or something?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Once a patient is discharged, it doesn't matter. If we worked in a doctor's office and it was a regular patient, that would probably be a different story, but we see so many people in the ER it's impossible to enforce something like that."

You breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "That's great."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So are you gonna spill or what?"

"Me?" you squeaked, shaking your head innocently but Lily saw right through you.

"Who are you seeing?" she pressed, smacking her gum between her teeth. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the heat from reaching your cheeks.

"Remember that guy last week? The fox with the arm laceration in 504?"

Lily gasped. "Shut the fuck up!"

You smirked and nodded. "We've just been on two dates, nothing serious, but before I continued to see him I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble."

"I'm so jealous!" she groaned, stomping her feet dramatically. You laughed and turned back to your computer. You began to get back to the chart in front of you but she pulled up a chair and got a little closer so nobody would overhear. "How is he in bed?"

You gave her a look. "We haven't slept together. Did you not hear me say we've only been on two dates?"

She scoffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything. If I went on two dates with a man like that, I wouldn't waste any time climbing him like a tree."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles before the phone rang, warning you to get an exam room ready for a broken arm.

Waiting four days to see Joel again was a lot harder than you expected, but lucky for you, on your last day, Joel surprised you at work with a coffee and chocolate croissant from the café you liked.

"You remembered!" you exclaimed when you opened the bag. He shrugged sheepishly but you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

"'Course I remembered," he said, glancing around when Lily walked into the waiting room to call back a patient. Her eyes locked on the two of you and she gave you an exaggerated wink before leading an elderly man to the back. Joel grinned and looked at you.

"Friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately," you said sarcastically, making him smile. You glanced down at your watch and made a face. "I'm so sorry, I gotta get going but this was so sweet of you," you said, motioning towards your coffee and pastry.

"I just really wanted to see you again," he admitted, "it was a completely selfish move."

You giggled. "Well, thank you for the selfish coffee and treat."

"You're welcome. Still on for tomorrow night?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Picnic and stargazing. You're really checking things off that cheesy date list," you said with a laugh.

"You asked for it, don't you forget now," he replied before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss.

After he left, you made your way back to the nurse's station so you could deposit your goodies and pull up the next chart.

"Third date tomorrow?" Lily asked, rounding the desk. You nodded.

"Yep," you answered distractedly, reading the chart of a young boy with a minor head injury from a fall.

"You know what typically happens on the third date?"

You felt your skin heat up at the insinuation. "I'm going to regret telling you about him, aren't I?"

"Sure are. That was so close to being me, I'll never get over it."

You laughed and shook your head, leaving her question unanswered as you made your way back to the waiting room.

As it turned out, a picnic and stargazing was incredibly romantic. Joel packed a simple meal: some cold pasta in olive oil, a light salad and some fruit. He had found a spot off a highway that overlooked downtown Austin, which was by far the cheesiest part of the date.

"Did you used to take girls here back in high school or something?" you teased as you sat on the hood of his truck, leaning against the windshield so you could see the stars.

"Me? Never. I was very respectable in high school. Never got into trouble, never skipped class and definitely never took the captain of the cheerleading squad up here after prom," he said with a grin. You giggled and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"You're trouble."

"Yeah, but you like it," he said, turning his head to the side so he could look at you. You tried to give him a stern look but you weren't selling it in the slightest.

"Okay, maybe I do," you admitted.

He smiled and laced his fingers together with yours, dragging his thumb over your knuckles for a minute, staring at your entwined hands while you continued to gaze upwards, the stars twinkling in the nearly clear, black sky.

"Can I tell you somethin' without you thinkin' I'm crazy?"

You rolled your head to look at him, your first instinct to tease him but his soft tone made you stop. "Sure."

"I keep waitin' to wake up or the other shoe to drop or whatever," he said, his gaze studying your face. "You just seem too good to be true," he added with a little grin.

"That's funny, I could say the same about you," you told him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I mean it. How don't you already got a boyfriend?"

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "I don't know. It's always been a little tough with my work schedule. I work so many overnights and it's hard for guys to understand that and work around it. Eventually things just... die off because I never get a chance to spend any real time with anyone."

He frowned and inched a little closer. "Their loss," he said. You turned to smile at him.

"You're not like that, though."

He shrugged. "I get it. I'm no stranger to havin' a busy schedule. I'm always haulin' Sarah 'round town to soccer games or friends' houses or after school activities. Don't bother me none."

You squeezed his hand affectionately before impulsively leaning over and pressing your lips against his. You could feel his surprise but he quickly reacted and brought a hand up to cup your face. He licked at the seam of your lips and you smiled before opening your mouth a fraction, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The whole drive back to your place had you thinking about Lily's comment from the day before, and the closer and closer you got to home, the more nervous you felt.

When he walked you up to your door and kissed you goodnight, you reached up to hold the back of his neck, keeping him close. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you let out a small moan. He grabbed your hip and began kissing you harder, pushing you up against your door and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking your skin there. You tipped your head back, breaking the kiss, both of you panting for air.

"Do you want to come inside?" you asked nervously. His gaze darkened and he licked his lips, but then you saw a tortured look flicker across his face.

"I can't," he said, sounding almost like it pained him to utter the words. "I can't leave Sarah alone overnight," he explained, taking a step back and rubbing his palms over his face. He dropped them to the side and you quickly blinked the disappointment from your eyes.

"It's okay, I understand," you told him, then reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"I promise, I really wanna come inside," he told you.

"I know," you said, "maybe next time."

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Yeah, next time."

But it wouldn't be the next time. Or the time after that. Understandably so, Joel was waiting for a night where Sarah was at a sleepover to coincide with one of your free nights, explaining that he felt uncomfortable letting her know he wouldn't be coming home.

"Does she know about us?" you asked him one night.

"'Course she does. But it's just... awkward. At her age, she can read between the lines, y'know?"

"I get it," you had told him, trying to imagine what it would be like for you if at fourteen, your dad had essentially announced he wouldn't be home that night because he was going to get laid.

It made sense, but it didn't stop both of you from practically swallowing each other whole every chance you got, all your pent up sexual tension bubbling just under the surface with every glance and touch.

And finally, nearly two months into seeing each other, the stars aligned. Sarah was going on a school field trip to The Alamo, which coincidentally was scheduled on one of your rare weekends off.

Joel had every intention of taking you out to dinner and a movie, but when you opened the door and locked eyes, suddenly take out and a shitty movie on TV sounded much better.

You practically dragged him to your bedroom while shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, desperation rolling off both of you in waves as you fell into bed.

"Beautiful girl," Joel mumbled against your throat, sweat coating your skin as your writhed underneath him, his thick length slowly dragging in and out, making sure you felt every inch of him. "Wanted this for so long," he continued, then groaned when you clenched around him. "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," he whispered when your slick began to spread over his thighs.

"Only for you," you managed to say, too focused on how your body thrummed with anticipation as you got closer and closer to your release.

"Yeah, that's right," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "All for me."

When you came, you whimpered his name into his shoulder, clutching onto him as the heat of your orgasm spread through every vein, reaching every inch of you. He followed shortly behind with a guttural moan muffled by his mouth pressing feverishly against yours, then you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips and his body sag. You pulled him down and he nuzzled against your throat as he fought for air, still nestled deep between your legs.

Neither of you felt much like leaving the bed, so you didn't. You ordered Chinese food takeout and watched some action movie you didn't really care for but it didn't matter because it primarily served as background noise while you pretended to fight over shrimp lo mein and shared an egg roll, the cartons spread out over your nightstands and your plates balancing in your hands.

You fell asleep before the movie ended but when you woke the next morning, tucked safely into Joel's side, the cartons of food were gone and the TV was off. You pressed a little kiss against his chest, silently thanking him for taking care of everything while you slept, but the movement made him stir. He sleepily opened his eyes, then a lazy smile spread across his face when he saw you already looking up at him.

"Mornin', little lady," he said, voice all rough and gravelly. You felt a pull in your lower stomach at the sound.

"Morning," you mumbled, pressing another kiss in the same spot.

Joel sighed and wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer and kissing the top of your head.

"I want you to meet Sarah."

He felt your muscles tense under his hands and then you slowly tipped your chin up to look him in the eye.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Only if you wanna," he said quickly, but you shook your head and grinned.

"Y-yeah, I would love to, of course," you told him.

He planted a kiss on your lips, both your mouths curving into smiles.

"Good. Then it's settled. My two best girls are gonna meet," he said, sliding out from under the sheets to stand. You bit your lip, adoring the way he referred to you as one of his girls. "She's gonna love you. How 'bout a baseball game or the fair?" he offered, slipping his boxers on.

"Both sound great," you said dreamily, watching him saunter out of your bedroom. And as you ate breakfast across your kitchen table, sharing little smiles over eggs and toast, you couldn't help but feel hopeful and excited for what your future held together.

[swiftispunk-deactivated20241031]

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series

-> in my hometown (COMPLETE) ✨💔🌸

series summary: [PRE-OUTBREAK] you've had a crush on joel miller for as long as you can remember. there are just a couple of problems with that: one, he's ten years your senior and your dad's best friend. two, you're moving to LA in the morning.

-> your summer dream (ONGOING) ✨💔🌸

series summary: [NO OUTBREAK] fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days at a tropical resort with you and your parents.

-> good to me (COMPLETE) ✨

series summary: [NO OUTBREAK] a three-part series chronicling the smutty adventures of reader and gynecologist!joel miller.

one shots

-> look at this godforsaken mess that you made me 💔

joel is a sad guilt-ridden sadboy (and also your touch-starved drug dealer). joel and reader are sad and get high together, that’s it. 

-> what i need ✨

reader has a bad day, joel gives you what you need aka the one with joel miller knifeplay.

-> here in your doorway 💔🌸

your fiancé tommy breaks off your engagement. you seek comfort in the arms of your best friend, who just happens to be his older brother, joel. 

-> say it with your hands | part two: put your lips close to mine ✨🌸

ellie convinces joel to see the town masseuse. it goes mostly okay. 

-> stay here, honey ✨

porn no plot. you sit on dbf!joel’s lap at a party, it’s a whole thing. (daddy!joel)

-> creep it real! ✨

a masked angel. a rugged cowboy. you're the answer to joel's prayers...until he realizes who you are.

-> snowflakes, a fireplace, and you ✨💔🌸

you get more than you bargained for when you end up snowed in at miller's inn on christmas eve.

-> mine all mine, part two ✨💔🌸

joel helps you forget. read part one by @mrsmando.

-> for you, for me ✨💔

joel makes a bad day better.

requests

-> in her defense 💔🌸

an unexpected attack. a protective instinct. a heartfelt exchange. (aka when a stranger tries it with ellie, reader steps in and joel is a guilt-ridden sadboy about it.)

-> rare ✨

request: If you're still accepting fic requests, could i request a smut fic with joel using the hitachi wand on the reader? i doubt theyd be able to find one in the apocalypse but for sexy purposes, it'll work!!

-> taking mine ✨

request: Can I request possessive, jealous Joel + comeplay 😳

-> yes, sir ✨

request: Omg this may just be the southern girl in me but reader calling Joel “sir”. Just had to share this thought with someone.

-> mad love ✨‼️

request: Could I request reader getting turned on after Joel goes feral on some guy who tried to touch her and eventually fucking feral!joel

-> skinny dipping with joel ✨

request: Shy/innocent reader skinny dipping with extra horny Joel and he uses the opportunity to make some moves 😄😄

-> joel miller cumplay thoughts ✨

request: IM CONVINCED JOEL LOVES TO CUM INSIDE YOU AND THEN GET FILTHY AND EAT YOU OUT ok thank you for coming to my ted talk

-> style ✨

request: Can we get some glove kink up in here?👀 maybe he shows you a nice pair of leather gloves he found and puts them on and this awakens something in you. I mean the smell of leather, his thick fingers even thicker in them, the way they glisten when he touches you…

-> this is our place 🌸

request: the main idea is basically domesticity/intimacy and i had javier peña in mind but to be honest, it can work with joel as well. either way, it would be about soft mornings, waking up together. maybe reader helps javier/joel to shave, they get dressed together and have breakfast. it’s normal and it’s soft and there are a lot of giggles and kisses and love and everything that there isn’t in either shows

-> focus on me ✨

request: i just really need to read joel spitting in f!reader’s mouth during sex… like, i rlly can’t stop thinking about it. just food for thought! *flees*

-> holding back ✨

request: i've been thinking of smut written from joel's pov?? like it could still be reader ig, but we're in his head, and he's experiencing it?? what would that be like 😳

-> anomaly (sequel to rare) ✨

request: i was wondering if youd see it possible for reader to convince joel into using [the hitachi wand] on him? i dont know if it makes sense to u in their dynamic but if so, would u be willing to write something on it? id honestly die for needy joel.

-> flesh and metal ✨

request: Hello! If you’re taking requests currently (if not I apologize), but I have one that’s eating away at my brain. Joel and a reader with nipple piercings.

-> needy!joel drabble ✨

request: pussy blinded joel, just... HAS to fill reader up.. just as to.. they can worry about it later but for now he just needs to see that pretty little thing dripping with his seed..

-> lie to me (non/dubcon)✨‼️

ao3 only: Joel corrupts an innocent shut-in and makes her his personal cock warmer.

non x reader

never let me down again (joel & ellie) 💔

more

-> this is me trying (joel & ellie) 💔🌸

jackson. a flashback on a film reel sparks a memory. joel tells ellie how it feels.

-> peace 💔🌸

jackson era, post-tlou. you and joel discuss what it means to die.

｡･ﾟﾟ･main masterlist･ﾟﾟ･｡

[atticrissfinch-deactivated20240]

Always on the Tip of My Tongue | (joel miller x reader) (18+)

Part 6 of Meet Me in the Back

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: when you see joel flirting with another girl, you start to lose your head. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), size!kink, daddy!kink, phone sex, smoking, alcohol consumption, light ~sexual touching~ with an OMC (some of which could be considered dubcon but is ultimately consented to), some angst besties :), jealousy, pettiness, Feelings, all that fun stuff!!!  word count: ~7.6K | ao3 a/n: life has been kicking my fucking ass, and so has this chapter. for like 5 months. but I’m so glad to finally have it out.  title is from Hate to Be Lame by Lizzy McAlpine. listen if you want to cry over these two. enjoy friends :)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

Blonde. Skinny. Around 5’3”. Flouncy little dress that’s too skimpy for the 40-degree weather outside. A six-pack on the counter and a pointed chin nestled in her palm propped by her elbow.

The last time you’d seen this charade, it had been you.

You flex your hand on the door handle, peering through the glass. Joel’s forearms are resting on his thighs, a smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head at her.

Something claws at your stomach, propelling you forward. The door chimes. Joel doesn’t look.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. No ID, no booze. Just how it goes.”

Darlin’.

You slip between aisles, keeping a watchful eye on the counter – on Joel’s expression – as you pretend to scan the chips.

“I promise I’m twenty-one! Don’t I look twenty-one?” You can hear the pout bending her lips, the shrill lilt to her voice, the vocal fry that grates across her words. She bends steeper over the counter, the hem of her dress kissing the bottom curve of her ass.

Joel’s thumb swipes at his lower lip as you see his eyes light up in what seems to be a subconscious response to what is surely a devastating view in front of him. “Don’t matter what you look like, sweetheart. No ID, no booze.”

“And I can’t convince you otherwise?” The enticing drag to her voice sets off a flurry of something in your stomach again.

It’s not jealousy. It’s not. It has to be something else.

Your hand closes around a bag of chips absentmindedly as Joel dips further forward onto his forearms.

“You think you got what it takes to convince me, darlin’?” Joel smirks, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Cause I—”

The bag slips from your hand and plops to the floor with a squeaky, crumpling sound against the linoleum, and Joel’s head jerks up.

When his eyes meet yours they go wide, a fly nearly caught in a web. He straightens up, stiffens like a board, and makes a show of clearing his throat as he glances back at the girl at the counter. “I’m sorry, miss. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave and come back with ID. I can’t help you. That’s final.”

You see his fingers fidgeting against his jeans as he sets his jaw and avoids your gaze.

“Fucking seriously? Fuck you, old man,” the girl bites back, shoving the Coors Light across the counter so hard Joel has to shoot his arms out to catch it before it smashes to the floor. She’s out the door seconds later, leaving you standing in the aisle and Joel staring down at the case clutched to his pudgy stomach.

For a long moment the only sound is the buzzing of the lights on the ceiling. Then your footfalls clatter against the linoleum as you make your way to the counter. You slap your retrieved bag of chips in front of Joel and begin rifling for your wallet.

“Darlin’…” Joel starts, falling flat in the air between you. The absence of the telltale beep from Joel’s barcode scanner has you looking up.

Darlin’.

“Just the chips,” you state, brandishing your debit card between your fingers.

You spot something in his eyes. Hesitance. Anxiousness. You don’t dwell on it.

“Please,” you punctuate, signaling your disinterest in whatever the fuck is happening between the two of you right now.

“Darlin’, I didn’t know you—”

“Joel?” You interrupt firmly, and he almost flinches. “It’s fine. Just the chips, please.”

He eyes you warily as he takes up the bag, scanning it, and watching you slide your card into the reader. You stare down at the tiny screen taking an abnormally, cruelly, long time to process.

The lights buzz.

“Pretty young thing,” you mutter before you can stuff the words back into your mouth.

“Don’t be mad, sweetheart.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Promise, it wasn’t nothin’.”

“Wasn’t my business if it was.”

“You seem a little mad.”

You exhale heavily out your nose, fixated on the tiny spinning wheel on the screen that you’re begging to finally chime and tell you to remove your card.

“I’m peckish.”

“Hell does that mean? You wanna peck at me?” Joel asks, his stool creaking under him as he leans back.

You look up at him from through your lashes for a moment. “Means I’m hungry.”

“Oh.”

You arch your eyebrows once in acknowledgment, and the blessed machine finally beeps at you. You snatch your card back and shove it in your wallet.

“Thanks,” you throw at him as you gather your spoils and head toward the door.

“Sugar—”

“Later,” you call casually in dismissal over your shoulder and let the door snick shut behind you.

You slam your car door shut and collapse against the back of your seat, chips tossed to the passenger side.

It doesn’t matter. He can flirt with whoever he wants. He can proposition whoever he wants. The two of you are nothing. This is nothing.

You wrap your arms around the steering wheel and bang your forehead against it with a thud, groaning.

The hell is this shit? Whatever you’re feeling. This churning sensation that’s tightening your insides. Because it cannot be what logic is telling you it is. Because that would be fucking stupid. You are fuck buddies. Nothing more than that.

You fumble around inside the median compartment for a carton of cigarettes and a lighter, roll down the window to a burst of frigid air, and light up. The first puff only minimally tamps your nerves, so you keep inhaling. You pull out your phone, idly scrolling, cascading smoke out the open window from the side of your mouth as you tap ash onto the asphalt.

The sound of scraping footsteps on the pavement next to your car has your attention swiveling to the left, where Joel is traipsing closer and closer.

That feeling starts up again.

With no pretense, he plucks the smoldering cigarette dangling from your fingers and leans his arm against the frame of your car, taking a lengthy drag.

“I wasn’t finished,” you say, a hint of annoyance infiltrating your words.

“I’ll let you finish,” he mumbles around the filter, only removing it to billow smoke from his lips. “Always let you finish, don’t I?”

“Whatever,” you mutter, reaching out to retrieve your stolen cigarette and attempt to resume your stress relief. Unfortunately, the “stress” in question is tapping his fingers against the hood of your car.

The silence stretches on as the white fizzles down to dull copper and Joel’s eyes monitor the front of the store. The taptaptap-ing of Joel’s fingertips grinds at your nerves.

“Didn’t mean to upset you, sugarplum.”

“You didn’t upset me.”

“Seem upset.”

“I already fucking told you, dickwad. I’m not fucking upset,” you snap, chucking your spent smoke on the ground at Joel’s feet. “You can fuck who you want. No skin off my nose.”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh and snuffs the ashen cherry out under his shoe. “Just didn’t mean to…rub shit in your face like that. ‘S’all.”

“There’s nothing to…rub,” you insist, dropping your head back against the seat. “You’re fucking other girls. I’m fucking other guys. This is a non-issue.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Joel presses his back flat against the car, folding his arms across his chest with a wide stance. “Ok. Good.”

You stare out the windshield, the salty streaks of ice melt marring the surface of the parking lot.

“I’m… I’m bein’ safe. Just so you know. With anyone else.”

It takes a second for the meaning of his words to sink in, but when they do, you do a mental double-take. “Wait, like… protection? Like condoms?”

His head nods steadily, eyes staring off in the distance.

“You hate condoms.”

Joel nods again, turning his head to the side to peer at the back of the lot. And your ears are playing tricks, the wind is blowing too loud, the cars on the surrounding streets too noisy. Because you swear to god you hear him say something that sounds eerily similar to, “But I like you.”

But you’re sure he didn’t, because when he turns back he just says, “Just tryna be more careful. Don’t need any little critters crawlin’ around the family jewels, ya know?”

“Yeah, no, that’s smart. I, uh, I am too. Having them wear protection. Just so we’re clear.”

Joel nods resolutely once more. “Okay then.” He springs himself off the car and starts slowly walking backward toward the entrance. “You wanna…pop back in for a bit?”

You’re not sure you’ve ever turned him down before. He’s always got that naughty glint in his eye, that charming smile, that bulge in his pants. But this time…you do. Maybe to prove a point. Maybe more to yourself than to him. “Another time.”

Joel nods deeply and twists about-face on the heel of his boot, his hands tucked in his pockets.

The chill of the night finally gets to you, and you roll up your window.

-

It starts to fester. The absolute last thing you want it to do. A constant frustration clouds the back of your mind, slowly creeping forward.

It takes significantly more effort to focus on work, to go out with friends, to run errands. You see the inside of more than a couple men’s bedrooms, hoping the right fuck will clear the fog.

There is one guy. A friend of a friend of Mandy’s who tagged along to a bar one weekend and finessed his way inside you by the night’s end. Nate. He’s a douchebag, but he’s hot and his dick isn’t entirely forgettable.

It’s not his. It could never compare to his. But it’s something. So you’ve allowed Nate to become something of a repeat offender. An expendable piece of arm candy for when you’re with your friends. He fucks rough and dirty, he calls you a good girl.

He fills gaps. The gaps that have been left by him molding your body to his cock. The gaps that persist from you decidedly avoiding falling into bed with that disgustingly foul, devastatingly well-endowed man again for the umpteenth time.

Seeing him flirting with someone else that night set off an alarm in your head. Something that now persistently buzzes under your skin. You feel it sting when you think about him directly. Like your body is punishing you.

It’s been about a month since you’ve seen him. The cold winter has given way to a slightly warmer spring. He’s texted you sporadically since that night.

February 19

Joel: really didnt mean 2 upset u sugerplum

Joel: really srry

February 26

Joel: is it one of them wierd jumpy years???

Joel: LEAP YEAR

Joel: how do they exspect us to know wen those r???

Joel: checked the calender in the office. is feb 28 the leap day?

Joel: miss u

March 14

Joel: whether is real nice 2day. bet ur wearin one of ur skanky sundresses huh?

Joel: woudnt say no 2 a sneek peek 😉

Joel: no presshure tho

March 17

Joel: cant stop dreamin bout that tite fuckin slit

Joel: wanna b inside it again soon

Joel: ill make it sooooooo good 4 u

Those last ones come in quick succession late on a Friday night while you’re hanging at Mandy’s place with a smattering of friends, your leg draped over Nate’s as his hand slides up your inner thigh — as high as he’s willing to go in the present company. He’s not quite as bold as…some people. But you like that he doesn’t keep his hands to himself.

Nate’s preoccupied even as he strokes your sensitive skin, locked in a spirited debate with another guy about some inane bullshit.

Despite the typos, Joel’s words have your core pulsing. Flashes of his massive cock splitting open your pussy flutter across the backs of your eyelids as you attempt to soothe yourself and the stupid, horny bitch between your legs. Your eyes snap open in response to the unwelcome images and you take a steadying breath, adjusting your seat and covertly palming your clit as you tug down on the hem of your denim shorts. That gets Nate’s attention, and he squeezes your thigh, giving you an appraising look.

He leans into your ear and whispers, “You think Mandy would disown you if we fucked in her bed?”

“Yeah, she would,” you mutter back. “Let’s get out of here?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he chuckles, giving your leg a final squeeze before stretching his arms above his head with a fabricated yawn. “Getting a bit tired. We’re gonna dip,” he tosses to the group, knocking his knuckle against your knee to indicate the we.

“Ok, I’ll see you later, babe,” Mandy throws to you from the couch opposite, giving you air kisses. You reciprocate the gesture and let Nate lead you out, his hand solid at the small of your back.

As soon as you arrive at the car, your back is pressed against the chill of the passenger side door and Nate’s mouth is on you. His hand wedges between your legs, rubbing up against your pussy through your shorts. You whimper quietly, but cup his jaw, pushing his mouth back from yours.

“Not here, dumbass. You’re gonna jizz in your pants again.”

“I only did that once,” he grumbles, huffing as he shoves off from the car and rounds to the driver’s side. You’re on the road soon after, his hand tickling at your inner thigh again over the center divider.

It’s not the hand you want. It’s the hand you should want. The one you want to want right now. You hate that it’s not. All because you bent over for that stupid fucking cashier one time, and now you’re here. A perfectly handsome man’s hand is making its way up toward your aching clit, hindered only by distressed denim, and you don’t give a shit about it. Because it’s not the hand you want. It’s not the cock you want. Not the filthy mouth you want.

Didn’t mean to make you upset, Sugarplum.

Fuck him. For so many things. The life-altering, reality-shattering dick. The soft, torturous glances when he thinks you’re not looking. The sly, knowing glint in his eyes when he thinks he catches something in yours. The stupid turns of phrase.

The shameless flirt in him, aimed not only toward you, but toward any pretty girl he sees.

Fuck. Him.

Ok, so maybe you’re a tiny bit upset. You’re dealing with it. And you’ll continue to deal with it. In whatever way you see fit.

“Can we make a pit stop? I’m dying for a soda,” you say, rolling your head against the leather of the seat to face him.

“You wanna stop for a soda?” He replies, a whine apparent in his voice. “I’m trying to get you naked as fuck as soon as possible. Don’t cockblock me.”

You roll your eyes. “But the more hydrated I am, the more hydrated she is,” you inform, tapping two fingers against your crotch. “Don’t you want her juicy?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Quick stop.”

“Perfect. Take a right up here.”

–

You spy a sliver of his truck around the side of the building, so you know he’s here. You hop out of Nate’s car, and you have a few seconds to peer inside before Nate’s hand is at your back again.

Joel is right where you’ve always left him.

You can see the jiggle of his knee peeking over the countertop from his boot bouncing on the crossbar of his stool. His phone is discarded by the cash register, but he’s got a clipboard and pen in his hands this time. You see the flick of his wrist as he checks something off on it.

For a fleeting moment, you second-guess yourself.

But then Nate is at your back, hauling the door open for the two of you.

Joel perks up as the bell chimes, but you’re too attuned to the features of his face to overlook the slight drop in expression when he sees you. Sees Nate with you.

Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this. But he did it to you, right? Let him see how it feels.

“Evenin’, folks,” Joel gives a courteous nod, eyes snagging on you and taking hold.

“‘Sup,” Nate replies in passing, guiding the two of you back toward the soda fountain.

You want to turn and look back at him as he clears your view. You want to see the expression on his face now that you’re not observing him. Because you can feel him observing you. Like his eyes are piercing through the cotton of your shirt, through your skin, right to your heart that feels like it’s beating far too fast for a casual drink stop.

But you don’t. You grab your cup and start filling it with ice. You dispense your soda. And when it’s almost full, you feel the slide of Nate’s hand down your ass. He gives you a light squeeze, and it makes your face start to heat. Normally you wouldn’t give a shit. You’re not opposed to PDA. But he is watching. You know he is.

You’re securing a lid onto your cup when Nate’s hand slips lower, down the center of your ass, until you feel his fingers start to stroke over your pussy again from the back.

Before you can say anything you hear a sharp interjection from behind you.

“Hey.”

You both turn back as Nate snatches his hand from between your legs. Joel’s attention is trained on the two of you, a look of bored annoyance on his face.

Not exactly what you had expected.

Joel leans forward onto the counter and reprimands in a jaded tone, “This ain’t Friskies Night at The Calico Kitten. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Huh?” Nate responds, a bit dumbfounded, turning fully around to face him. You follow suit hesitantly biting your lip as the guilt of this entire situation starts to set in. You wanted him to feel guilty. To feel sorry for making you feel bad. You’re not so sure you want that anymore.

“You heard me. ‘S a public fuckin’ place. And private fuckin’ property. Keep your hands off her.”

Nate takes a step forward. “You’re really telling me how I’m allowed to touch my girl?”

“Nate…” you warn softly, putting a hand on his arm.

“Why the hell are you even looking at my girl to see how I’m touching her, huh?” Nate continues, slipping his hand around your waist possessively.

Joel’s eyes flit over yours, and you’re not even sure how to react. You feel foolishly caught in the middle of a situation that you crafted. You don’t offer anything but a subtle shake of your head to Joel.

I’m not his girl. I’ve never been his girl. Please don’t make me say it.

“Part of my job’s to make sure beautiful women like her are safe,” Joel asserts, pointing a finger at you. “You feel safe, darlin’?”

Darlin’.

You swallow slightly and nod, your voice caught in your throat for some odd reason.

“You want him touchin’ you like that?”

“She’s totally fucking chill with it, dude,” Nate butts in, but Joel throws up a hand in a stopping motion.

“Don’t remember askin’ you a goddamn thing, son.”

You clear your throat and, with shaky conviction, announce, “Yes. I’m fine with him touching me like that.”

“Hear that, old man? Told you she’s chill with it,” Nate brags, giving you a swat on the ass that makes you jump. You restore your resolve quickly, sizing Joel up with your eyes and your renewed confidence. He doesn’t reveal anything to you that he hasn’t already let slip, and it almost disappoints you. His own gaze seems to be scrutinizing you in return, like he’s daring you to make a move.

“Come on,” Nate mumbles, grabbing your drink from the counter behind you and starting toward the cash register.

You see Joel shrug and chuck his pen onto the counter like a dart, skidding across the surface. As the two of you approach, he unmistakably says, “Far too pretty for a little boy like that, sweetheart.”

“Please,” Nate scoffs, plopping your drink in front of Joel absentmindedly as he tilts his head toward you with a smirk. “Says the dinosaur over here, running his mouth and playing the white knight like he’s got a shot in hell of scoring a sexy piece of ass like you.”

Joel snorts at that, eyes fixed on the barcode he’s scanning on the side of your cup. “Son, you are stumblin’ into a dick-measurin’ contest that you are embarrassingly unequipped for.” Joel glances directly at you with a smug look cemented on his face. “Ain’t he?”

Nate takes in your vague expression, then narrows his eyes slightly at Joel. “Why are you asking her like she’d know?”

Joel gives a little upside-down grin and a shrug, focusing his attention on his monitor. “I’ve found that girls have a pretty good sense for that kinda thing. Don’t they sugar…” he starts, meeting your eyes from beneath his eyelashes, “tits,” he concludes smoothly.

You see the glow in his eyes. The knowledge of what he wants to call you, but knows better than to divulge in front of an outsider.

Your heart throbs in your chest.

Even now, when you’re very blatantly trying to make him feel insecure, that unique Joel self-assurity shines through. Not only that, but the respect for you and the privacy of your little trysts stands unwavering between the pair of you. He could blow up your spot. He could tell Nate how unabashedly you scream on his cock, how your eyes roll back in your head every time he sinks inside you. How he’s trained you to call him “daddy” and trained your cunt to slide down onto his generous length with humiliating ease and reasonable grace.

But he doesn’t.

And that alone would win him any dick-swinging contest, if his staggeringly large cock hasn’t already.

“Fuck it, it’s on the house,” Joel says, waving his hand at the soda and jabbing his finger onto the touch screen on his monitor. He plucks a straw out for you from the cup stocked with them by the register.

“Wait, what? Why?” Nate challenges, skeptical.

Nate secures his hand around your waist again, but Joel doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t give it any attention at all. Just scoots your drink closer to you and says with a wink, “Don’t say I never did nothin’ nice for ya.”

You wrap your hand around the base of the cup, and when your fingers don’t meet each other around the circumference of it, your mind is flooded with images. When you glance up at Joel, it’s apparent that he’s already plagued with the same vulgar recollections.

Joel clicks his tongue against his top row of teeth and winks at you again in sendoff. He doesn’t say it, but the message is clear.

We both know what’s going on here, sugarplum.

–

Nate doesn’t get any. He doesn’t even make it out of the car at your place before you shut it down. And he is comically distressed about it. He calls you a bitch and a tease before peeling out of your apartment complex with screeching tires.

It sits heavy in your stomach how mortifying it would be for Joel to have seen that kind of behavior. But honestly, Joel probably pegged that attitude in him within seconds. He’s smart that way. Intuitive. God, it enrages you.

You saw the shift in him when he realized you were parading around with a sorry excuse for a man. Suddenly the threat he’d initially perceived was neutralized and it became more of a game to him than anything else. He was toying with Nate. While you stood there, battling with yourself over what you were doing.

Your phone vibrates when you step inside your apartment.

Joel: dont gotta b doin shit like that to get my attenchin sweetcheeks. u alreddy got it.

Something about the cocksureness in his demeanor earlier and the matter-of-factness in his text has frustration flaring up inside your chest.

You: Sure didn’t have it the other night. Some random blonde bimbo walks into the store and your cock is practically out.

You fling your phone onto the couch and head to the kitchen, pulling out a hard seltzer and cracking it open to down a generous gulp. Your nails clack against the counter as you see your phone screen alight over the back of the couch.

You don't particularly want to see what he has to say to your text. You had just wanted to say it. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. But you wanted to. You needed to. That’s the downside of texting shit like that, you suppose. The other party is probably going to respond.

Bitch, this is what diaries are for. Get a fucking diary.

Too late now.

You drag your feet over to the couch and drop heavily onto it, staring at the text notifications from Joel on your lock screen. Five of them. You take another healthy swig of your drink and take the plunge, unlocking your phone and swiping to your text thread with Joel. But you are not prepared for the deluge he smacks you with.

Joel: u excpect me to b a monk when ur not gracin me with ur presents princess?

Joel: shure askin an awfull lot of a guy who dicks u down like hes paid 4 it

Joel: ya its been a while but i kno 4 a fact taht lil creamie gusher btwn ur legs remembrs how ur daddys cock feels squirtin his lode deep inside it

Joel: u bein petty aint as cute as u tihnk it is little girl. ur fuckin with a grown man. not some pussy boy like that chode u was flawntin around me with

Joel: if ur planin on keepin this up u better at leest try a little harder

Fuck.

You’ve never heard him talk like this. Like he's pissed off. He’d seemed so calm and collected at the store. Like he couldn’t give two shits about who you were hanging around or who was touching you. Your eyes start to burn with tears as you read the texts over.

You responded to his sexts by dragging your fuck buddy into his place of work. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to react to that? Of course he’s pissed off at you. Why didn’t you take two seconds to think through your shit before reacting?

Bitch. Get. A fucking. Diary.

The fist around your gut clenches when more text bubbles pop up.

Joel: fuck. im sorry sugerplum. idk y i just threw all that at u. that wasnt polite.

Joel: just a dumb ol basterd shovin my whole goddamn foot in my mouth

Apparently you both need diaries.

Your heart hurts reading his texts. You’re enraged at yourself for driving him to this, running him through the whole gamut of emotions that a person experiences when they see someone they have feelings for giving attention to someone else.

Someone you have feelings for.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The fist around your gut is now joined by its twin around your heart.

You have feelings for Joel.

Deep down, you’ve known this for a while. It’s been brewing, whirring around your brain. You’ve shut it down every time it’s cropped up, wrapped your hands around its throat and squeezed until you’d sufficiently silenced it for the time being. Beat it into submission, starved it of oxygen, stuffed it into a box and set it ablaze.

Then you’d see him again and it would burst out of its charred prison, bigger, bolder, better than before. An exhausting cycle that you were only vaguely aware was occurring.

But that’s it. You have feelings for Joel.

So, you respond to him in the best way you know how, the way that you think would make him smile to himself the most.

You: Doesn’t even come close to what I can shove in my mouth

You bite the side of your thumb, a grin pulling at your lips as a weight seems to lift from your chest, as the fists begin to loosen. Your stomach flutters when the next message flies in.

Joel: cheeky girl

Joel: wheres ur boyfriend

Your smile broadens and you take another sip of your drink.

You: Got lost in the cavern you’ve made of my pussy. Might never see him again.

Joel: atta girl

You slap a hand over the cheek-bursting grin expanding across your face and toss your phone into your lap. But after a moment, when it dawns on you that you have no one to hide it from — not even yourself — you let your hand fall from your face and into your lap, your head leaning back against the couch as you beam up at the ceiling.

Another buzz.

Joel: hows about u make it up 2 me by showin daddy his cavern 😏

You giggle to yourself, hand already working on the button of your shorts.

You: Been a minute since the last excavation, might have caved in a little

Joel: daddy can fix that in a jiff. hes always got his tools with him

Joel: gonna jackhammer that little bitch rite open again while u scream on it. mine ur cave with my shaft til daddy finds gold

You whimper as you shove your shorts and panties off your legs, your mind rifling through all the sensory memories you have of Joel’s cock plowing through you in that relentless rhythm he’s perfected with you.

You spread yourself wide for your camera, your heels mounted on the couch cushion to maximize exposure, and even you are taken off guard from the wetness seeping from your opening just from his trademark filth. It’s like your pussy is hardwired to drench itself the second he speaks in that particular brand of dirty talk only he can pull off.

Your hands are shaking with eagerness and arousal as you send off a photo, your fingers descending onto your clit hastily as you await his response.

You feel so keyed up you accidentally drop your phone when it starts to buzz aggressively in your hand, Joel’s name and photo popping up on your screen with an unexpected call.

You recover and accept the call, fumbling to hit the speaker button to hear his voice.

“Shit, never locked that goddamn door so fuckin’ fast. Jesus Christ, baby. All spread and smilin’ at me like that.”

“Just from thinking about you, daddy,” you sigh, lying fully onto the couch and hooking your leg over the back of it to make room for your brazen depravity.

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’ girl,” Joel groans, and he already sounds wrecked over the phone as you hear the muffled scrapes and scuffles of him releasing his length from his jeans. “Gash is dripping like a leaky faucet. Who’s it for, baby? Tell daddy who’s it for.”

“You,” you whine desperately, bucking into your hand at the grit and authority in his tone.

You hear a light tutting over the line. “You know better’n that. Tell me.”

You give a breathy whimper as you abandon all dignity for him once again. “It’s for Daddy Joel.”

A reedy groan travels through the speaker, followed by the easily identifiable sound of him spitting shamelessly into his palm. “Fuck yeah it is. That’s a good little slut.”

You can feel wetness dripping between your asscheeks as you rub at your clit to the reedy groans Joel gifts you with as the sound of slapping skin exposes his hand jerking his cock.

“Are you stroking yourself for me, daddy?”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah I am, baby. Right on our dirty little couch in the back. Can’t wait to bust you open on this bad boy again.”

You give a breathy laugh and say, “Is ‘bad boy’ referring to the couch or your cock?”

Joel lets out a low chuckle in return. “How’s about both? Wanna sit on this couch while you sit on me. Feel you bounce on it like the naughty fuckin’ bitch you are.”

You moan in response, your brain supplying you with memories of how it feels to drop down on his thick length until he bottoms out inside you. A wave of pleasure pulses through your body at the flashbacks, and you’re hit with how much you miss this man and his dick. How you crave the way he infiltrates your mind and your body in the most sinfully grotesque ways. You wish you had more visuals on your phone of what it looks like when he gapes open your cunt on his cock. That’s the first thing you want to do, you think, when you get your hands on him again. Make him film your defiling, showcase the stretch of your hole around his thickness as he retrains your body to take him after so long without him.

Your toy collection cannot do him justice. Maybe you bought a dildo that rivals his size, but it could never replicate the warmth of him inside you. The absolute control he has over you in those intimate moments when he lays claim to you. You can suction a silicone cock to a mirror and fuck your demons away as often as you’d like, but you can’t cup your own jaw with a heated, rough-hewn hand. You can’t fill your own ears with vile odes to the ways your bodies meld together, enrobed in that gritty southern drawl. Your imagination is only so colorful, and even if you had a thousand years, you could never amass the range of shades you would require to successfully capture his essence.

No, you could never paint him, even in your mind. You’re content to instead be a canvas for him. And as nit-picky as you are over your own appearance, whenever he gets done with you, a part of you feels like you could put an O’Keefe to shame. And he would undoubtedly agree.

But for the moment, you offer what little you can as your thoughts scramble by your own hand. “Yes, daddy. Wanna feel you fucking everywhere.”

“You stuffin’ that cunt full for me, sugarplum?”

You whine and tease two fingers down to your opening. “Not yet. Nothing compares to you.”

“Little boyfriend don’t stretch you out, huh?” Joel taunts, laughter in his voice as he baits you.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend. And no,” you admit, not terribly concerned with how easily you crumble over this man. You could argue back, stoke the jealousy, make Joel wonder exactly how he measures up next to Nate. But you’re done playing that card. Really the whole hand is blown at this point. He sees through you so effortlessly, you may as well have never had a poker face at all.

“Mmm, yeah, daddy knows how good he gives it. I told ya before. They all come crawling back to daddy Joel. You crawlin’, baby? You on them hands and knees for me?”

Your tail firmly between your legs like the bitch you were tonight, you whimper and say, “Yes, daddy. I’m crawling.”

“Lemme see.”

A whine escapes you, but you open your camera and maneuver yourself onto your hands and knees on the cushions, balancing your phone against the armrest to capture your compliance. The timer ticks down quickly and your wanton gaze stares back at you in a still image, your tits falling with gravity between your arms, your nipples peaked, your lips glistening from biting them subconsciously through your lascivious acts on this sofa tonight.

The picture whooshes off to Joel, and a gravely moan announces its reception. “Fuck me, little devil. Need you to drop those girls in daddy’s mouth so I can suck ‘em ‘til they’re raw.”

“Should punish them for getting us into this mess in the first place, shouldn’t we?” You purr, situating yourself on your back again to continue why you started.

“Damn well should,” Joel agrees, a grunt sliding into his words as he pulls at himself. “‘F’it weren’t for those knockers, you’d be down a twelver, some smokes, and a shit ton of good daddy pipe.”

“Especially the pipe,” you sigh, your fingers working ravenously at your clit. “God I love that big fucking cock, daddy. I’m gonna come thinking about it.”

“And I’m gonna blow my load all over my fist thinkin’ about your tight little gold mine. Shit,” Joel grunts out, the smacking sounds on the other end getting louder and faster.

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” you cry out as you feel that telltale warmth start to trickle through your limbs and the pulse of your pussy under your fingers.

“Yeah, fuck, come for daddy,” Joel growls out, followed by a series of curses and deep moans through the speaker as you assume he’s experiencing similar results.

As your adrenaline fades, you sink into the couch, and the weight of all your actions today start to sink with you.

“Shit, babygirl,” Joel exhales heavily as his own high dwindles. “Missed those sexy noises of yours.”

“Me too,” you admit, swallowing as you catch your breath. “Missed yours too.”

You hear a light laugh over the phone. Then silence starts to settle between the two of you. Time drips and each second feels like a drop into the pool sitting in your stomach, rippling and sloshing as you fight against being the one to spear through the quiet.

“Broken record here, but I’m sorry if I upset you flirtin’ with that girl, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were there. If I’d’ve known, I’d never…”

Something in your stomach goes tight again, and a burning starts behind your eyes. You hate that he keeps bringing this up. It had felt embarrassing enough in the moment. Mortifying enough to shut him out, to try and sort out the bullshit in your head about him. You’d made the mistake of trying to shove it back in his face, and it only made you feel worse. Every ounce of you just wants to move the fuck on from that night, from this evening, from this weird fucking limbo the two of you are stuck inside.

The words might have a little more bite to them than you mean for them to, but before you can pull them back you say, “Stop saying you made me upset. You have no idea how I feel.”

There’s a beat of silence before he responds, and it feels like your heart is palpitating to the passing seconds. When he speaks, his voice is bordering on defeated. “Startin’ to think you might be right about that. G’night, beautiful girl.”

A lump forms in your throat almost instantly.

“Joel,” you try to reassure, to prevent tonight’s exchange from ending on a sour note, but you watch the call end on your screen as you say it. That tightness in your stomach squeezes, the wetness brimming your eyes reluctantly spilling over.

You roll onto your side, drawing your legs up closer to your chest as you let your emotions overcome you for the first time in a long while. You beg the universe for him to call back so you can tell him what you discovered about yourself tonight. You can’t bring yourself to do it. You need him to do it.

He probably thinks I hate him.

I could never hate him.

You give yourself over to the sorrow and allow yourself to feel.

—

The skin around your eyes feels crusty and tight with dried tears when you blink awake. The apartment is still mostly dark, and you’re still half-naked on your couch.

As your memory from tonight pieces back together in the fog from your sleep, you pat around for your phone. 5:02 AM. No missed calls or texts.

You sigh, tossing the phone onto your coffee table and curling in on yourself again. The sleep has you thinking clearer.

You need to tell him. You can’t keep it inside when it feels like it’s boring through your chest. Especially when he’s sitting in that dingy store, likely thinking you can’t stand him. The hurt in his voice when he hung up a few hours ago is haunting. You never want to hear him sound like that again.

You wrangle your shorts back on, spruce up quickly in the mirror, and grab your keys.

You’re at the gas station in minutes, pulling up to the front. You allow yourself a single deep breath, not enough to second guess, and head to the front door.

The bell chimes tinnily, but the store is quiet. And Joel isn’t sitting on his stool. You don’t let it sway you.

You pass the first aisle. Nothing.

You pass the second aisle. Nothing.

Then you approach the third aisle, and you swear your heart skips. Joel is at work on the floor, kneeling on a foam pad and restocking the shelves.

“Be right with ya,” Joel says dismissively, reaching into the box behind him.

“What if I was upset,” you blurt out before he even has time to look at you.

Joel freezes for a moment as the sound of your voice flows from his ears to his brain. He twists back around as his gaze gravitates to yours, eyes widening in surprise as he pulls his hands from the box. His eyes roam over your body, toes to tits, then finally to your face. “Well, hello there, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you rush through the word, fold your arms across your chest just for somewhere to put them. “What if I was upset.”

Joel studies you for a long moment, his eyes squinting slightly in scrutiny. He falls back onto his ass, wincing gently as the pressure is taken off his knees, and drapes his arms over the clearly aching joints.

“What if you were upset, you’re asking?” He repeats, his tone prodding for further explanation.

“Yes,” you reply simply.

His eyes float to the side, drudging up what exactly you mean by that, before nodding to himself once he thinks he understands. “Upset at me tryin’ to slip it in another girl?”

A flash of disgust splashed across your face before you can school it, but you nod. “Yes.”

“Well,” Joel starts, his eyes shifting to the ground between his legs before meeting yours again, “What if I didn’t like you flittin’ around here with some dipshit punk? What if that really fuckin’ pissed me off, actually?”

“It pissed you off?”

Joel raises one eyebrow and sets his jaw firmly in response.

A creeping satisfaction radiates in your bones at this revelation. It had worked. He played it off, but it worked. So your behavior hadn’t been all for nothing. The crudeness of which you’d allowed Nate to touch you in the dim light of the store, the sting of the slap to your ass, the tingle you’d felt when Nate brushed his undeserving fingers over your pussy under Joel’s surveyance — it all burrowed under Joel’s skin.

“I wanted it to.”

“I know,” Joel says lowly, almost like he’s ashamed he’d fallen for it.

The heels of his boots squeak on the linoleum as he fixes his attention on the half-stocked shelves.

Moments drag by, and it becomes apparent that Joel is leaving the ball in your court on where this conversation leads.

You sigh, kicking your foot nervously and barely grazing the floor. “What if I don’t want to see you fucking around with another girl like that again?”

Joel’s eyes are drawn back to you again. You can see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips before he says, “What if I don’t give a fuck about any other girl, even if they tried?”

A spark of light ignites in your chest as you battle with the smile pushing at your own lips.

None of this is even a solid answer. Not even a solid question. The open-ended what-ifs rallying back and forth, all at once saying nothing and everything you want to verbalize. But it feels right. It feels good.

Joel leans forward, a broad hand cupping around your calf, and your heart swoops. “Sugarplum,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours as his mouth brushes above your knee. Your eyes drift closed, luxuriating in the plush press of his lips on your skin, the gravity of the act somehow infinitely more magnanimous than it would have been at any time before now.

You’re both startled out of your skin as the bell chimes again and a breeze wending its way through the open door, a man in a suit heading straight back toward the coffee dispenser.

“Shit,” Joel mutters under his breath, pressing another kiss to your thigh before shoving himself off the floor and dusting off his jeans. You take a steadying breath and stem the heat in your cheeks with your palms.

Joel’s hands find your hips, stroking just under your shirt with his thumbs as a soft smile plays on his face. “Let’s talk later.”

You nod at him, pulling your lower lip between your teeth, suddenly feeling very bashful. “My place after I get off work? I’ll text you the address.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Joel affirms, his greedy eyes crinkle with his smile, and you’re not positive whether he’s undressing you or admiring you with them, but you ultimately figure it’s both. Always both. Joel’s lips find your forehead and it’s a losing battle to train your face into anything but exhilaration.

“Guess it does,” you reply softly, unable to stop yourself from raising your fingers, touching his lips that very well might be yours now, just as much as your own are.

Joel hums against the pads of your fingertips, pressing a delicate kiss to them and whispering, “My little sugarplum.”

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[familyvideostevie]

time you will not spend alone

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni romance at the end of the world is this: flowers, lazy nights in bed after long days, and savoring every moment | or, joel makes you something. jackson!joel au, fem!reader, fluff, maybe a bit cheesy but idgaf, ellie cameo cause i can't do a damn thing without her, tommy gets some page time here too, smut (riding, unprotected p in v sex, some finger sucking lol), tenderness, gift giving | 5.7k a/n: i think this is the last part of the just and just as series for the foreseeable future. thank you for reading about this little au and these two lovebirds! i adore them. thank you @frannyzooey and @macfrog for your eyes and support on this. and thank you everyone else for being patient. <3

Spring sweeps into the valley seemingly overnight. The peaks remain snow-capped but the bare branches of trees between the evergreens begin to bud. Chilly mornings lose their bite and frost turns to dew and every day there is more light.

You've always thought Jackson looks its best in winter, but it's a damn sight to see as life and color return. And the latter is your favorite part -- the rolling hills outside the walls and the forest patrol paths are dotted and then overflowing with flowers.

It makes you feel more alive. Patrol isn't a freezing ordeal anymore -- it's an opportunity to see the remaining beauty in the world.

Today's shift is short and easy but you find yourself lingering, running your hands through pine needles and turning your face to the sun. Your horse is happy to munch on a patch of grass in a clearing just off the main trail, but your patrol partner is less than impressed.

"Are you serious?" Ellie moans. "You're stopping again? What the fuuuuuuuuck."

She sags in the saddle. The pout on her lips makes her look like a kid sent to bed without supper rather than an almost-twenty-year-old forced to spend some extra minutes in the fresh air. Shimmer has no problem chewing on some weeds despite her rider's moaning.

"Let me enjoy the sun," you say. "When you get older you'll appreciate the little things, too."

You hop off your horse and Ellie sighs loudly.

"Jesus, you're not that old," she mutters. "Seriously, what are you doing?"

You sweep your arms around you, gesturing at the meadow. "These flowers are nice," you tell her, pointedly. She adjusts the rifle slung over her shoulder. "I think I'm going to pick some and bring them home."

She snorts. "Oh, is Joel suddenly into flowers?"

You ignore her bait and crouch, gaze sweeping over the array of colors in front of you. You tried to learn the names of flowers years ago when you found a book on them in an old bookstore but they never stuck. Purples, pinks, and yellows, large petals and small ones, delicate yet hardy to survive the world past its end.

Joel isn't a fussy man. Young fathers don't get to be, and anyone alive these days sheds that impulse just as quickly. He's happy to wake up every day with you by his side, his kid in the garage out back and walls around everything he loves, keeping it all safe.

It makes it both easy and hard to please him -- you want to give him everything but he seems to want nothing. A perfect paradox, a puzzle to solve. 

God, you love him. You love spring, you love Joel. Everything feels good.

So, you start to gather stems, snapping them at their bases, humming as you work.

"How do you choose which ones to pick?"

"Fuck," you gasp, careening forward onto one palm and looking over your shoulder. Ellie is off her horse and much closer than before, standing directly behind you. "Jesus, you're stealthy."

She shrugs, her smirk a pleased slash across her face. "You're oblivious as fuck."

You roll your eyes at her.

"Seriously," Ellie says, crossing her arms. She jerks her chin at the small bouquet you've got in one hand. "How do you make it look so nice?"

"Oh, so we've moved on from the making-fun-of-me part of this?"

She crouches next to you, elbows on her knees.

"I, uh -- " Her cheeks go pink, freckles standing out against her blush. "Dina likes flowers."

You bump her shoulder with yours. "I'm going to be so nice and not tease you."

"Fuck off," she scoffs, tucking her smile into her shoulder.

It's quick work. Ellie follows your lead, balances out the blooms she picks with some leafy weeds. She ties them together with one of the minimum four spare hairbands she has on her person at all times -- bits of cloth, occasionally a rare unused elastic from before if she's found some on patrol.

"Isn't it kinda shitty?" she muses, nimble fingers turning her bouquet this way and that to admire it. "We're killing them. The flowers, I mean."

"Little late to have a conscience about killing," you say lightly. The two rabbits she pulled from Jackson snares hang from her saddle. You've seen her in action, too -- gun raised, hands steady, blood splattered across her cheek. It's not an accusation, far from it. Violence is a language you both speak, one she's known for most of her still-short life.

She rolls her eyes, every bit a teenager. "Whatever."

You sigh. "You're right, though," you say. "There were whole shops dedicated to this before. Selling flowers, making bouquets and centerpieces and all that shit."

She probably knows this, but she lets you describe it. Ellie soaks up bits of the old world like it will materialize before her if she listens hard enough. Joel says it was much worse when she was younger, right after they settled into Jackson. She wanted details about everything and watched every movie she could get her hands on. You think she was satisfying her curiosity, sure, but also that she was trying to understand him better -- but didn't know how to say so.

"Weird," she mutters. "And you just...bought them for other people?"

"Or yourself." You pat her shoulder and stand. Your horse tries to nibble on your flowers before you haul yourself back in the saddle. "It was just a nice thing to do, I guess."

"Killing something to make someone else happy," Ellie says with a dry laugh. She tucks her bouquet in the crook of her arm once she's back in the saddle. "I guess everyone does that these days."

It's absurd when she puts it that way, but it's true. You've all got blood on your hands. You would kill for this girl, for Joel, for pretty much anyone in Jackson. And you have.

The flowers are for Joel, they're for your house, they're for you. Something beautiful to bring home alongside your dirt stains and scarred hands, your haunted eyes and nightmares. No one is spared those.

It's only mid-morning by the time you get back to the wall. You and Ellie left at dawn, short sticks drawn for the early shift. She leaves you in the stables with a mock salute and a shout of thanks, practically jogging to Dina's to give her the flowers.

You're untacking your horse when you hear familiar laughter, a deep chuckle and Ellie's faint indignant protest.

"Mornin'," Joel says from behind you. "Was hopin' to catch you at the gate."

"Can you hold these?"

You blindly extend the hand with the flowers. His fingers carefully extract the bouquet and you return to brushing out your horse.

"Does this have somethin' to do with Ellie runnin' out of her with flowers of her own?"

"Never let anyone say you're unobservant, Joel Miller."

He snickers. You leave your horse with a final pat on the neck and thanks for a job well done.

When you face Joel, he looks tired -- he's been pulling extra long days replacing windows and roof tiles after the winter's damage. God knows that man never seems fully rested, but it's a little worse when the seasons change.

He's told you time and time again that standing two stories off the ground is a hell of a lot safer than fighting some Infected on patrol, but you still worry. Just like you know he worries about you beyond the walls, how he's a little tenser whenever you're not in sight, whenever he hasn't seen Ellie for a few days ‘cause they're both busy. It's just how he loves. It's how you both love.

You make no move to take the flowers from him, instead brushing some sawdust from his shoulder.

"Did you have a job already?" you ask.

"Small one. Fixin' a crooked over mailbox." He looks pointedly at his full fist. "You gonna explain now?"

"They're for you."

Joel blinks once, twice, brows furrowing like you're speaking a different language. Maybe a few years ago you'd start to feel self-conscious, unsure of your romantic gesture and insecure in his reaction. But now, as fully in love and connected to this man as you are, you lean in.

"If you're too manly to carry flowers through town --"

You make to take them from him but he snaps out of his daze and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest in a smooth motion.

He also holds the bouquet in the air and out of reach.

"Hey, now," he says. "Hands off. These ain't your flowers."

"I picked 'em," you remind him, poking him in the ribs for good measure. 

He flinches just a little but doesn't move. His embrace is warm and familiar and you sink into it. "Gettin' romantic," he mutters and brings the flowers back down to eye level to examine them.

"I'm just trying to catch up to you," you say into his jacket. He huffs and his palm rubs a slow line up and down your arm.

You wiggle out of his embrace to shoulder your pack.

"I am pretty romantic," he muses.

It's true. Even if he's joking and even if no one but you gets to see it, Joel has always made sure you feel loved. Courtship and romance look different these days, but it still comes naturally to him -- loving. Dinner dates, jewelry, and trips to the airport have become a battered paperback, a sharpened knife, and bloody knuckles, but it rings just as true. He loves you and he loves his family the best way he knows how – by keeping you all safe.

And you do your best to convey the same thing. You tell him, of course, but you also mend his shirts and chop wood when his back is acting up, and you look after his kid like she's your own.

Joel deserves to know that he can receive all that he gives, too – the protection, the tenderness, the beauty. Moments of softness and rest where he knows he’s taken care of, thought of, that he matters beyond the things he can do for everyone else.

So, you also do things like bring him flowers.

Sometimes you feel like it will never be enough. You will never have enough time to show him how much he means to you, how he's saved you, how important and cherished and loved he is. How good he is.

Joel reaches for your face with his free hand. He traces the line of your cheekbone with his thumb and smirks when you inhale sharply. Another patrol returns and the stables are suddenly louder and more crowded than before. If you're both free for the rest of the day, you want to drag him up to your bedroom and spend the hours there. You want to show him, for the millionth time, how much you love him.

"Okay, Mr. Pretty Romantic," you say, grabbing his hand and tangling your fingers together. "Let's go home."

___

Joel is hiding something from you.

The flowers last for a week and you watch him eye them and smile every time he enters the kitchen.

But after they droop and go in the compost pile, something shifts. Something subtle, sure, but you spend most of your waking hours looking for or at Joel, so you notice.

He starts keeping his workshop door closed. Normally you'll sit and watch him work, or he'll teach you a few chords here and there on the guitars he's making, but your lessons move to the porch and the upstairs hallway loses the scent of wood glue and stain.

In fact, he actively steers you away from the room altogether. He's all just needs a deep clean and it's messy, is all. It's not rocket science -- he's making something for you, clearly. But giving him a hard time is too fun to pass up.

One night, you and Ellie wait at the bottom of the stairs. There's a dinner and movie night in the old church and you're taking the opportunity to make it a family outing.

"You coming?" you holler up the stairs. You hear the door creak open.

"Gimme a second," he calls back down.

"Jesus," you mutter. You tap the side of Ellie’s sneaker with your boot. "You know anything about that?"

Honesty is important between all of you, but you know Joel and Ellie need to have their secrets. There is too much tangled history between them for you to understand it all. It's important to you that they have a relationship all their own, even if it means they scheme.

Ellie is examining her switchblade with intense focus. "I might," she says with a smirk. "He's a lovesick loser, I'll tell you that."

You lean on the banister and raise your eyebrows. "Do you remember when you asked me how to embroider so you could put Dina's name on her jacket?"

The knife swings closed with a snick and she rolls her eyes at you, cheeks pink.

"Shit, dude," she says. "Why do I tell you anything?"

"She liked the flowers, though, didn't she?"

Ellie crosses her arms and smiles at whatever memory she's seeing in her mind. "Yeah," she says. "She did. Jesse gave me so much shit, though --"

The door upstairs closes and Joel's heavy footfalls cut her off.

"Finally," you grumble. He trods down the stairs, arms half in his jacket when he catches sight of the two of you. "Are you hiding state secrets in there?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ellie asks.

"Might be," is all he says. He's got that twinkle in his eye that means mischief but he looks proud of himself. You can let him have this, whatever this is. You trust him and you'll find out eventually.

"Alright," you say, pushing off the banister and heading for the door. "You're going to breathe toxic fumes with the door closed."

"No, seriously," Ellie says. "What kind of secrets would a state be keeping?"

"Ain't nothin' toxic in there," he says lightly. He bumps Ellie's shoulder with his. "C'mon."

She throws her hands up in the air. "You know, it's shitty when you ignore me."

"Did you hear somethin'?" Joel says to you.

You shake your head, swallowing your laughter. "No," you say. "Nothing."

"Assholes." She pushes past you and down the steps onto the street. "I'm going to make sure there are no mashed potatoes left when you get there."

__

You don't mind letting Joel do whatever he's up to in all of his spare moments. It does mean you have more time to yourself, so you pick up some extra wall shifts.

And when one of those shifts is with Tommy? Well, you can't help but needle him a little bit about it all.

"Do you know what your brother is up to?" you ask him.

The wind today carries some lingering winter bite, so you've got the collar of your coat pulled up around your ears. Tommy’s hair whips around his face when he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Gonna have to be more specific," he says. "My brother is always up to some shit."

"I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Tommy laughs. He's got the reputation for being the more easy-going of the Millers, but you know he's more a match for Joel than most think. Out in the world, they work as one, silent and deadly, always in step when it counts. They still speak a language all their own with just a look and you see so much of them in each other when you pay attention.

"Well, I learned it all from him," he says. He adjusts his grip on the rifle and sighs. "I happen to know what you're talkin' 'bout, though."

"Is he just telling everyone but me?"

"Nah," Tommy scoffs. "Asked me and Ellie for help, s'all. And you know he tells that girl everythin'."

You both smile for a moment at your fondness for them.

Tommy clears his throat. "Does it bother you? Him keepin' a secret?"

You know Tommy won't let your answer get back to Joel. He's asking as your friend, as your kind-of brother. He's asking because he cares.

A patrol crests the hill, green flag waving in the air. They whistle and shout for the gate to be opened. 

You step closer to Tommy so he can hear you. "No," you say. "I just like to gossip."

"Don't I know it," he chuckles. "You two are the eyes and ears of this damn town. Knowin' everything."

"Except what happens in my own home," you tease. 

He shrugs. "You'll like it, if that helps," he adds.

"I know I will."

You look out at the world beyond the wall and smile to yourself. 

Joel has made you a few things over the years. He works wonders with his hands all the time: Beautiful, intricate carvings for the house, for Ellie, for new babies in town. The wall of guitars, not to mention the ones he's made for kids to learn on in school. You're better at sewing than he is, but he's pretty damn good – fixing up pillowcases and blankets and clothes of all kinds. Joel is a craftsman.

Hands that hold you can also pull a trigger, punch until there's nothing left, and craft a work of art.

And he knows you. He pays attention -- there is a reason behind everything he does. If he's making you something, you know you'll love it.

"Strange, ain’t it?" Tommy says. You turn to him, a question on your face. "World ended and here we all are, happy. Makin' shit for each other. Gosspin'."

You sigh. “Took a lot to get here.”

“Damn right,” he says with a long whistle. “Lotta shit behind us.”

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. 

Tommy considers your words. You two talk plenty, but you’ve never really spoken about the past. Joel tells you whatever you want to hear about the years before you knew him, so you’ve got a pretty good picture of their lives after the outbreak.

"Can I tell you somethin’?” Tommy asks. You nod. "Alright. I – I never thought I'd see my brother this happy again. And I wish every damn day that Sarah was here to see it. To know him this way, to meet Maria. To know you and Ellie."

Joel has said the same thing before and it’s an honor greater than you can ever explain.

"When I saw him and that girl a few years ago, I thought --" Tommy clears his throat. "I thought maybe he’d made it through all the shit we did. And I was right. She brought him through it. And now he’s here, doin’ stable life shit we dreamed about before."

"Ellie is a force," you say, a little surprised to find your voice watery. The love between Ellie and Joel is fierce and powerful, evident to anyone who witnesses it. They would do anything for each other, even though they're mending.

"She is," he says. "And so are you.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m goin’ with this. Point is – seein' him love you, too, shows me he’s through it. He's alive again, you know? And I’d do all the shit we did over again just to get us all here. So, no. I don’t regret it."

It’s nothing you haven’t thought before, but the words work their way into your heart and sit there, heavy and warm.

“Damn,” you say. You swallow and give him a wide smile. "If you keep going, Tommy Miller, I will start crying and that would embarrass us both."

He laughs and blinks a few times. You join in, wiping your eyes.

"Alright, I won't," he says. "Jesus, all you did was ask what he's doin' in that workshop."

You clap him on the shoulder. "I won't tell anyone you started blubbering on duty."

He snorts. "Ain't that generous of you.”

__

Days pass. A week. You almost forget about Joel's project because he spends less and less time in the workshop and more on tasks around town as the days get longer. You're both busy -- chopping wood, planting bulbs for the fall, helping de-shed the horses. There's always work to be done.

After a particularly long day on your feet, you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel to find he's gotten home while you were in the shower.

"Hey, stranger," you say. You're mostly dry but some water drips down your back and you shiver. Joel is leaning against the headboard on top of the sheets without his shirt, reading whatever book he's onto now.

"Didn't hear me come in?" he asks. He sets his volume aside and pulls off his glasses.

"I was too busy coming back to life under some hot water." He probably heard you singing off-key to some long-lost song stuck in your head for the millionth time. "And you're quiet as hell, Joel."

He shrugs.

You just look at each other, the intimate gaze of two people who know every inch of each other and never tire of it.

The sleep pants he wears to bed this time of year are lightweight, thin enough that you can see the outline of him from here. His stomach is soft where he's bent at the waist and the trail of hair above his waistband is dark, darker than the rest of what's on his chest.

The golden expanse of his skin just begs to be touched, so you make your way over to him in your towel. He makes room for you to perch on the edge of the bed, the bare skin of your thigh pressing into his pants. His palm rests on your knee.

"I haven't seen much of you lately," you say softly. "’Cause of that damn thing you're working on."

His fingers press into your skin.

"Ain't patience a virtue, or something like that?"

"Whatever magic you're working better be worth waiting for," you tease.

Joel's hand resumes its path up your leg and he smirks.

"I can work some magic right now," he says.

You laugh, throwing your head back as his fingertips edge under the towel.

"That was awful," you say. "I should get dressed in all of my layers right now and go sleep on the couch."

You pull away from his touch so you can straddle him, your towel only held on by one hand at your breasts.

Joel snickers. "But then I wouldn't be able to do this."

Nimble fingers find your cunt between your spread legs and you gasp a laugh, one hand on his shoulder to balance you in his lap.

"Smooth," you manage. His other hand tugs on the towel and you release it, your slightly damp skin breaking out into goosebumps in the air of the bedroom.

Joel drags his lips between your breasts and you feel his smile.

"Christ," he says. "You comin' outta there in just a towel and you expect me to go to sleep?"

He pulls his fingers from you and frames your face with both hands to drag it down to his in a lazy, thorough kiss, like he's savoring each moment.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you let him in readily, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you grind down on the hardness you can feel through his pants.

"I've missed you," you say, dragging your tongue along down his jaw. His fingertips press into your bare hips hard enough to bruise, but it's a grounding touch rather than an urgent one. You want to take your time because you have missed him, and you think he feels the same way.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Joel groans, dragging your lips back to his. "It'll be worth it."

You pull back to look him in the eyes. The hazel-grey is almost totally taken over by his pupil, but his gaze softens when you cup his cheek and smile.

"I know," you say, and mean it. Naked in his lap in your bedroom, you mean it. You always mean it. You always trust him.

Joel kisses you once, twice, and you pull on his lower lip with your teeth when he pulls away. His nostrils flare and before you can tug his cock from his pants, he holds two fingers out to you.

You laugh, circling his wrist and bringing the digits past your lips. You swirl your tongue around them and really take your time with it, laving at his knuckles before releasing them with a pop.

His cock twitches beneath you and he huffs.

"You're an easy man to please, Joel Miller," you tell him, tugging down his pants and letting his shaft spring free. You stroke him root to tip and he hisses.

"Nah," he manages. "It's ‘cause it's you."

He follows his words with a circle of your clit from his spit-slick fingers.

"See?" you gasp. "Romantic."

It's a bit crowded, his hand rubbing your clit and yours slowly jerking him, but neither of you rush it. You pant together, dotting lazy kisses on any piece of bare skin you can reach. You breathe him in, the combination of sweat and gun oil and fresh detergent that's just Joel. A rush of tenderness hits you so suddenly your nose stings.

"Joel," you say, a bit ragged. "Joel, can you --"

A gentle hand on your face brings your foreheads together, his eyes on yours.

"Whatever you want," he groans. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

You can't help it -- you laugh. Brightly and happily, almost in disbelief that this man is yours. Real and solid under you right now, beside you every night. Yours to love and cherish and all the rest.

"You laughin' at me?" he grumbles, though you can tell he's fighting a smile.

"I just love you, is all," you say. You probably don't say it enough. You and Joel show each other every day, so much so that you can't imagine he doesn't know. As it is, you feel loved by him with every move he makes, every time he looks in your direction, every time he says your name.

"And I want you to fuck me," you add.

It's Joel's turn to laugh.

"Now who's the romantic one?" he says. 

You rise from his lap and settle onto your back on the other side of the bed, stretching with your hands above your head.

His eyes follow the line of your bare body, fondness and hunger recognizable in his gaze.

"Always so damn pretty," he grumbles. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"Flirt," you tease.

He rises to his knees and pumps his cock a few times with his fist. You spread your legs for him, knees bent up against your chest.

He settles between your knees and you lock them around his hips. Joel honest-to-god winks at you before dragging two fingers through your folds to make sure you're slick enough.

"Ready?"

You nod. He enters you in one practiced move and you groan in unison as you adjust. It takes some shuffling but he finds a position he can hold, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Joel fucks you slow and deep. Each drag of his cock against your walls curls your toes and drags whines from both of your throats. He keeps up his usual babel -- doin' so good, feel like a dream, so damn tight, cunt's a fuckin' miracle -- and you press your hands into his bare back like he's a life raft.

Sweat beats on your brow, your chest, everywhere, and you suck bruises into his neck as his thrusts get a little frantic. Your own orgasm sneaks up on you, the pressure building and building and building until it snaps without warning.

"Joel -- Joel, fuck, I --"

You clench around him and he chants your name, that's it, baby, come on my cock, and buries himself to the hilt to finish inside you.

He hovers above you on trembling arms long enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips before rolling off of you.

"Now I'm ready for bed," you say, panting.

You fling a hand out lazily and it lands on his chest. He intertwines your fingers and his gaze finds yours. You smile as you get your breathing under control.

Joel smooths your brow with a thumb. "Don't forget to --"

"I know, I know," you say. "C'mon, you know this isn't my first rodeo." You get up from the bed and head to the bathroom.

"You sayin' I'm a bull?" Joel calls after you.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" you holler back, cleaning yourself up. "Didn't people used to say that?"

Joel doesn't answer you but you laugh at your own joke. You make your way back to the bed in old pyjamas and find him back in his sweatpants, feet flat on the floor like he's about to get up and go somewhere.

"Joel?"

He sighs, his shoulders moving up and down like he's bracing himself.

"It's done," he says. "Your surprise."

The confession stops you in your tracks.

"Oh?"

You know Joel better than mosty, but sometimes he's still a puzzle. The hesitation, the slight air of anxiety about him as he says it confuses you. Because Joel is good at taking care of people, and he has to know it -- those years he and Ellie didn't speak you know he left her things, know that he took care of her from afar as much as she would let him. It's just what he does, he uses his hands to beat and shoot and bloody – but also to carve and hold and love.

They're the same thing, really.

And he's made you something – one of countless gifts he's given you, tangible and not, throughout your relationship.

But he's nervous. As if you wouldn't love anything he made, anything he does. As if you're not gone over every part of him.

"Hm," he says. "Yeah. Let me --"

Joel gets up from the bed and pads over to the dresser to rummage around in a drawer. You meet him back on the bed and he's holding a square-ish parcel wrapped in cloth.

You gingerly take it from him.

"This is what you've been working on?" you ask softly. He nods.

You unwrap the cloth and find yourself holding leather-bound journal. The hide is smooth under your fingertips, scraped clean by hand and tanned a dark chestnut.The spine is about an inch wide, the whole thing swen together with neat stitches of what can only be catgut. A thinner strip of leather is wrapped around the cover and tucked into itself carefully. It must have taken him ages to make. 

"Joel," you gasp. "It's...god, it's beautiful."

He tells you how he found it on patrol a few weeks ago. The cover was fucked but the paper was somehow fine, so he dried out the pages and rebound it with a hide he tanned himself. You run your hands over it again almost like you can feel his fingerprints all over it, the hours he poured into the pages.

The inside cover falls open easily when you undo the tie and you see letters in the bottom left corner of it. Your eyes sting.

Joel has carefully burned your name into the leather, each letter perfectly lined up with the next. You haven't had something with your name on it in years.

He clears his throat. "Ellie said she'd give you some of her pens. Show you how to refill 'em."

You look up from your gift and find so much love on his face you can hardly stand it. He was inside you not that long ago and somehow this is more intimate. You surge forward into his space and wrap an arm around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

"I don't know what to say," you confess. "Just -- thank you."

He runs his hand along your spine.

"S'nothin'," he says. "Just saw it and thought of you, is all."

You release him and shake your head in disbelief. This man.

"What should I write in it?"

Joel's cheeks darken a little. Of course he's thought of everything.

"Figured you could write about...all this." He waves a hand in the air like that explains anything.

"All what?"

He shrugs one bare shoulder.

"Life," he says. "Jackson. Folks here. Might be nice, havin' the memories."

You scoot closer to him so you're almost in his lap again.

"You want me to write down the gossip?" You mean it as a joke but Joel nods.

"You pay attention," he explains. "Someone's gotta."

You're not much of a writer anymore, haven't had cause to be in twenty years. But you do like to tell stories. You both do. 

The pages are soft under your fingertips as you flip through them again. You're going to fill them with stories -- about this town, about Joel and Ellie and Tommy and the people you love. The people you've lost, too. The memories that hurt like bruises, like fresh wounds. But the good stuff, too. The gossip, the love stories, the plants in the yard and the flowers on the trails.

Joel has given you the ability to record your lives.

You reach over him to set the journal on the nightstand before you frame his face with both of your hands.

"I'm going to write pages and pages about you, Joel Miller," you whisper.

He huffs, cheeks warm under your palms. "That's borin'."

You shake your head and lean in until your lips brush and your eyes flutter shut.

"That's the story," you say. "That's my life. This is my life. You are."

“I love you,” he breathes. “So damn much. Y’know that?”

How could you not? You say so and kiss him firmly but without hurry. You’ve got lots of time. You’ve got forever.

[toxicanonymity]

night walks masterlist

Updated: 3/10/24 (art)

mood board by @milla-frenchy 🖤

This is an AU moreso than a series. Very little plot. Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed. Turns out he's a little obsessed with you. You find him irresistible, despite your initial efforts to stay away.

OVERALL WARNINGS: Non-outbreak AU, drug use, Dubcon, unsafe P in V, dirty talk, stalking

LATEST: Beach Walks

gif by @iamasaddie. see bottom of post for more art

reader curated spotify playlist

MAIN TIMELINE

NIGHT WALKS (2k) - ORIGINAL. Joel gets you in his basement and you fuck.

"Deleted Scene" - Joel reveals his breeding kink.

Night Walks 2 (1.9k) - When you don't come back for more, Joel takes matters into his own hands.

Night Walks 3 (1.4k) - Joel breaks in and has his way with you. (Darkest)

Liquor store run-in (350) - You run into Joel in public and he gropes you.

Night Walks 4: All dressed up (1.3k) - You run into Joel at a gas station and end up fucking him.

Restaurant drabble (400) - You run into Joel when you're out with your friends.

Night Walks 5: Harder (2.8k) - You get jealous. You hang out and can't get enough of him.

BLOW (2k) - You do a line of his dick then give him an amazing blow job and later he puts it in.

Night Walks 6: Morning After (900) - You wake up at Joel's and he's not ready for you to leave.

Night Walks 7: Soaked (3.5k) - You're still there and it's storming so you stay for a while.

Night Walks 8: Menace (4k) - You're set up on a date, but Joel reminds you why you want him.

Interludes: 4th of July (200?) - You go to the pool. POV: Neighbor (Ethyl).

Night Walks 9: Late Night Dip (2.3k) - You go to the pool and he dicks you down. Interlude: ✨Ethyl's house.

Beach walks - Prequel (3.8k) - Joel is acting shady and you hook up with someone else.

Beach Walks (7k) - Joel can't let you go. ✨surf shack lore

HCs, ALTERNATE READERS & TIMELINES ⤵️

Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet - Various HCs in a standard format.

Pregnancy - How would he react to pregnancy?

If someone refused him - What would Joel do if someone flat-out refused him and really didn't want it?

Alt. timelines (AUs of AU)

PREQUEL: Night Gawks: Before Night Walks (450) -. Joel notices you as soon as you move into the neighborhood and jacks off.

FUTURE: Sleeping beauty (750) - You and Joel have a consensual non-con agreement. He breaks in, chloroforms you, ties you up.

FUTURE: Day walks (150) - You and Joel are out hiking and he's being irresponsible.

night caulks (100) - Joel being a rascal

ALT: Leopard print (4.5k)- ft. Tommy

DIFFERENT READERS (AUs of AU)

(2003) Night Chalks (400) - Joel takes a liking to Sarah's engaged teacher and starts to seduce her.

Night Chalks 2 (380) - Joel gets her in the back seat of his car.

(2008) Night Talks (2.8k) - Joel gets Sarah's best friend high and takes her virginity.

(2018) Night Drives (1k) - You order a lyft after a girl's night out and end up in Joel's basement.

Misc: If you're desperate: Dr. Rock has NW roleplay (1st person)

NIGHT WALKS GHOSTFACE

Every inch

Every inch 2

Every inch 3

main joel miller masterlist

Art & Visuals

TRAILER (video) by @iamasaddie

POV Ring doorbell by @swedishscumfuck.

Joel on vacation w/ blurb.

Man cave/basement floor plan

Booty text by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog and @missannwinchester

meet me in the moonlight by @iamasaddie

mood board by @milla-frenchy

gif by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Pumpkin mood board

beach walks collages by @lunitawrites

nw collage by @selfproclaimed-moviecritic

beach walks by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

✨sleeping beauty by @milla-frenchy