Brea

pedro pascal. greta van fleet. I’m ancient

[smis-happens]

New meme:

type in “I’m” in the tags and use the first tag that appears

[luckieangel]

if you get horny out of the blue it’s because you and that fictional man are fucking in his universe btw

[anxietyproblem]

[fairycosmos]

what if i just manipulate reality with my mind and make everything perfect and good

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

drake?

[hazeleyedcat]

josh?

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

where’s the body of christ?

[wyrddog]

[junglejim4322]

467 days have passed in the last week. Many don’t know this

[russianblush]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Taking a much needed vacation for the holiday, you aren't aware your cabin has been double-booked until you're face to face with the other guest the night you arrive, left with a big decision to make and the possibility of a month with a man you know nothing about. But, through communication and isolation, you learn that you and him might not be that different after all. Consumed by your shared loneliness, you find company in the unlikeliest of place—a stranger named Joel, in the middle of the woods.

[strangers to friends to lovers, age gap (56/mid 20s), forced proximity, no outbreak]

(Series) Content Warning: a very, very lonely joel miller. copious amounts of lusting, tension, joel is an excellent cook (food, alcohol, ect), hot tubs, impromptu snowball fights, awkward situations, deep talks and tragic backstories (specified within chapter warnings, deeply depraved smut/sexcapades and the inappropriate use of a dining table (also specified within chapter warnings), nicknames of endearment (no use of y/n)

⦿ AO3 | PLAYLIST

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗 (** indicates smut)

CHAPTER ONE: Decisions

⤷ December 4th

CHAPTER TWO: Chivalry, Secrets & Hot Tubs (Week One)

⤷ December 11th

CHAPTER THREE: Showers, Stolen Glimpses & Fireplaces (Week Two)**

⤷ December 18th

CHAPTER FOUR: Snowball Fights, Shared Space & Understanding (Week Three)**

⤷ December 23th

CHAPTER FIVE: Christmas (Week Four)**

⤷ December 25th

CHAPTER SIX: Epilogue

⤷ December 30th

moodboard/collage made by joelsgreenflannel

[shadowqueen2024]

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Content Warnings: Explict, 18+ MDNI, p with minimal plot, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you use it), creampie, dirty talk (love some filthy talk Joel), baby fever, multiple orgasms, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, oral (f! receiving), fluff tone in the beginning (I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself🤣), aftercare, let me know if I miss any!

Summary: When Joel sees you taking care of Benji, he couldn't help but think what it was like having your own kids. And once he knew it's what you've wanted, he was going to make sure it happens.

A/n: Guess who finished her fic early?? This is my first attempt at something kinky, probably not the best, but I figured I'd give it a try. As part of @time-for-my-weekly-spanking's 2026 kinky Challenge found here, I hope this is good, and thank you for letting me join 💖 Any feedback for improvement is always welcome!

AO3 | Main Masterlist

When you and Joel started your relationship, the subject of kids was a tough one to get through, given how it had ended with Sarah.

But when Benjamin was around - when you'd babysit, he grew to love you. Joel couldn't deny the effect that the sight had on him. Seeing you take care of his nephew and get along with the kid, it made his thoughts trail to places where he wasn't expecting.

How your body would change - how your stomach would adjust and change to make room for his child growing inside of you.

The child he put there...

It did something to him that he wasn’t going to admit out loud.

Today, the family was gathered for a meal with one another as a way to catch up with each other, and with what’s been going on around Jackson. Family dinners in Jackson were normally loud in a way you learned to love. They weren’t the kind of loud that came from chaos or fear - not anymore - but from a place of pure joy that the others were alive and together. From overlapping voices, the clinking of cutlery, and laughter bouncing off the walls, the house was livelier the more the family spent time together.

Joel sat beside you at the table, shoulder warm where it pressed against yours. He looked relaxed, at ease in a way that still sometimes surprised you to see. You had grown used to the gruff and serious look that was practically glued onto his face - that seeing him calm and not tense under the weight of keeping everything around safe… it was a pleasant change. The lines of his face were softened when he laughed at something his brother said, head tipping back slightly.

And then there was Benji. The little boy had made his way over to you, his small hand tugging at your sleeve, his eyes bright and smile wide, like you were the most interesting person in the room. And right now, you were.

“Can you read this with me?” He asks, holding up the picture book he has in his free hand.

You couldn’t help but smile at his adorable question. He could’ve gone to his mother, his father, or even his uncle. But he chose you, and how were you going to say no to him? “Of course, bud,” you say, making space for him on the couch, which he hopped on and made himself at home on your lap, and all you could do was laugh at his quiet insistence to sit on your lap before you began reading to him.

While you read to him, Joel was just admiring you. The way you weren’t tense around the boy, and how your lips moved as you pronounced each word from the pages of the book. Occasionally, your gaze would flick up to him, and you caught him in his staring trance. You saw the look of pure affection, and maybe a hint of something else. Longing? But not in like you were used to.

“You okay?” you asked softly, gently nudging his knee with your elbow.

He blinked slowly, like he was being pulled out of his wandering thoughts, before nodding, “‘m fine, darlin’.”

You could tell he wasn’t being fully truthful with you, but you didn’t push the subject much. Not with his brother, young nephew, and Maria in the room.

Once the book was finished, Benji was already falling asleep against you, and that’s when Maria and Tommy got up to take him back to their house for his bedtime.

“Goodnight,” he muttered to you as Tommy picked him up from your lap, his head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. “Night uncle Grumpy,” he says to Joel, and none of you could hold back the smile that made its way on your faces. And Joel just gave a playful eyeroll and a single nod, “Night kiddo.”

Maria and Tommy exchanged goodnights with the two of you before you closed the door behind them and turned to Joel, leaning against the doorframe, “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight. More than normal.”

“Just been thinkin’,” he mutters, looking down at his chipped coffee mug, giving a small shrug.

“About?” you pressed, tilting your head to the side as you watched how his shoulders tensed ever so slightly with the questions.

“You’re good with him,” he admits, bringing his gaze up to yours, and you can see the hint of uncertainty that settles in them. Like he was debating whether to bring it up or not. “I tried not thinkin’ ‘bout it, but it’s just gettin’ harder.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked softly, slowly making your way back to the couch before sitting down on the cushion beside him. “About kids?”

His breath slightly hitches as you hit the nail on the head. He reluctantly nodded, “Yeah.”

You studied him for a moment, really looking at him. The man you loved never let his vulnerability get the best of him. The subject of kids has been a touchy one. The two of you had briefly talked about it when your relationship was getting serious, and he never said he’d never want to have kids. You understood he was just hesitant about it all - understood that, though he’d deny it as much as he could - he was scared of losing another kid he loved.

You felt it too. The strange pull when you saw families together through the community. With how your body reacted when you thought of a mini replica of you and Joel running around.

“You wanna have a kid?” you asked, a small smile on your lips at the thought that he did, in fact, want to have a baby with you. “You’re sure about this, hon?”

He took your hands into his, giving them a soft squeeze, his gaze finally meeting yours, “‘m sure, darlin’. I wanna watch you grow our baby. I wanna start the rest of our life with you.” He brings a hand to your cheek, gently cupping it, “Do you want that?”

You placed your hand over his that was against your cheek before shifting onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, and your hands cup his cheeks, “I’d love to have your kids, Joel. I want all of your babies.”

Joel exhaled heavily, like he’d been holding his breath for years, as he leaned his head into your palms, his hands going to your hips. He then kissed you - gentle at first, like he was testing the waters. But as soon as you lightly pressed your chest against his, a hand gently gripping the hair at the bottom of his neck, his hesitance instantly melted away as he gently tugged your hip closer to his.

When he finally pulled back, he exhales heavily through his nose, his head dropping to your shoulder as he muttered, “Damn.”

“That bad?” you asked teasingly, lowering your head to place brief pecks against the side of his neck.

He quickly shakes his head, his lips moving to your collarbone to place a kiss before he grumbles, “That damn dangerous.”

You giggled at the grumble, and before you could protest, he shifted to the edge of the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist as he got up. You squealed softly at the sudden movement, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms going around his neck.

When you and Joel reached the bedroom, his lips were instantly back on yours, your breaths heavy as he gently lowered you onto your back on the bed. You undressed each other slowly, your hands running along each other’s bodies in a familiar pattern.

“Lay down, baby,” Joel whispered once he was down to his black boxers and you were bare. He placed a kiss against your forehead, temple and then your lips, “Wanna taste you.”

He gently guided you to lie back before he settled between your thighs - his broad shoulders pushing your legs wider. The rough calluses on his hands contrasted sharply with the gentle way he traced the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His beard scratched deliciously against your skin as he lowered his head, the sensation alone sending shivers through your body. And Joel caught on.

“I know, baby. You’re getting all worked up for me,” he muttered with a chuckle, lowering his head down between your legs and closer to your core. He pressed his lips against your folds, a soft closed-mouth kiss against your most sensitive skin, and your body immediately trembled.

Then his tongue swept out, a broad, flat stroke that parted you slowly. He took his time as his tongue traced your outer lips before dipping inside to taste your slick heat.

“Christ,” he murmured, voice muffled against your core. “Already so wet for me. So fuckin’ perfect.” You let out a soft moan as your hand instinctively went to run through the strands of his hair, not guiding, but as a form of stability. He pulls back just enough to look up at you, the evidence of your arousal glistening on his lips, “This all for me, darlin’?”

You couldn’t help but nod, your breath hitching, and he blew a cool stream of air against your heated center. “All for you,” You muttered, and Joel returned his mouth to your center. He let out a low groan at your taste, one of his hands leaves your hips to rest against your stomach – fingers spreading across your lower stomach, holding you to him as his mouth worked on your core.

His other hand slid from your thigh to between your legs, where Joel’s mouth was residing. He slowly slid two of his thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to make you cry out as his mouth began focusing on your clit. You feel the heat pooling even further in your lower stomach, and you know you couldn’t handle much more. The dual sensations had you arching your back and your fingers tangled in his hair as you ground your hips against his face, searching for more of that devilish tongue of his.

“Joel…” you panted, your voice barely recognizable. “‘m close.”

He responded with a soft groan, increasing the pressure of his suck on your clit, his tongue working relentlessly as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “C’mon sweetheart,” he grunts, pulling his head back just enough to look up at you from between your legs, “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

His words were your undoing as your body tensed, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your thighs clamped around his head as you cried out his name, and Joel didn’t stop, working through your orgasm until you were slumped down on the mattress, panting and spent.

When he finally lifted his head, his mouth and chin were glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, “I could die a happy man between those legs.”

You huffed out a laugh before taking his hand into yours, tugging him up to meet you before pressing a kiss against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue, and you couldn’t help but moan. You slide your hands down Joel's body before reaching his boxers. The hard length of his cock straining against the fabric couldn’t be more obvious than it is right now. Reaching inside, you wrapped your hand around his length, giving it a few slow strokes before focusing your palm on the head. He groaned at the contact, attempting to keep his hips still, but failed as it shifted closer to your hand regardless.

He slides the boxers off and tosses them aside. He was long and thick, and his tip was an angry red, curving up toward his stomach. “Fuck me, baby,” you whispered out, “I need your cock inside me. Filling me up.”

“Damn it, woman,” he grunts out, shifting down your body before settling between your legs, this time with his cock between your folds, gathering the combination of your release with the mess his mouth made. “Got a fuckin’ dangerous mouth on you.”

“Please…” you whimpered, shifting your hips in an attempt to take him inside of you.

“Not yet,” he says gruffly, running a hand along your breasts, rubbing the sensitive nipples, drawing out a whine from you. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for so long. ‘bout makin’ you a momma, watchin’ you grow with my seed inside you.”

He positioned the tip of his cock against your entrance, applying a small amount of pressure before he breached your entrance. He lowers his head against the crook of your neck as he slides in deeper and slowly, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch was incredible, and both of you moaned at the sensation. The aching fullness was familiar. When he is buried to the hilt, his hips flush with yours, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Fuck…” he chokes out, his voice strained with an effort of remaining still to allow you to adjust. “Always feel so damn tight. Like you were made for my cock to stretch.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside you once you adjusted, and Joel began moving - his strokes deep and measured. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, building slowly but steadily toward another orgasm. "You like that?" he growled, his pace quickening. "You like how I fuck this tight little pussy?"

"God, yes," you moaned, your nails digging into his back. "Harder, Joel. Fuck me harder."

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room, followed by your moans, his heavy grunts, and the bed creaking under the exertion.

"Gonna fill you up," he panted, his voice strained. "Gonna make sure it sticks so you'll be all round 'n full with my baby. Tits fillin’ up to feed our lil’ one. God darlin’.”

Your body is humming, alive with sensation. Every nerve ending is on fire. Joel knew you were getting close; he could feel how you were tightening around his cock. And you could feel he was close just by how his cock was throbbing and twitching inside you, followed by the frantic pace he began taking

“I’m close,” you murmured, one of your hands running through his hair, and he buries his head against your neck.

“Let me feel it,” he pants against your neck, a grunt escaping his lips, “’m close too. Gonna come inside you. Gonna make you a momma.”

“Fill me up baby.”

He reaches between you, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it in tight and quick circles. And that was all that it took to throw you over the edge. Your orgasm took over you, a tidal wave of pleasure that ripples through your entire body in powerful waves, leaving your body limp and shaky.

Joel follows just moments longer, letting out a long moan of your name, his body shuddering against yours as he finds his release. You could feel the warmth of him spilling inside you before he collapses against you, his weight steadied on his forearms, his face still deeply buried against your neck.

Both of you were a panting and boneless mess, but neither of you made the effort to move. For a long moment, you just lie there, tangled together with your bodies slick with sweat, and your breathing slowly returning to normal. After a minute, he shifts; he hadn’t pulled out just yet, keeping the two of you connected. He brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his touch impossibly gentle. “You alright?”

“More than alright,” you respond, a smile on your face that you were able to contain, and he huffs a soft laugh. “Couldn’t think of a better way to practice.”

He places a kiss on your lips, then your forehead, before he slowly pulls out of you, your body protesting the loss. He gets up from the bed, walking to the bathroom. You hear the tap running, and he returns with a rag in hand.

“Open for me,” he says, and you open your legs. He gently wipes the rag over your entrance and thighs, cleaning you before setting the rag aside and lying back down beside you, pulling you against his chest with the blanket wrapped around the two of you.

“We’ll be doin’ this ‘till it sticks, sweetheart,” Joel suddenly says, and you tilt your head up to him. “You better prepare your throat for a lot more moanin’.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck as you settled against him. “Practice makes perfect.”

Taglist: @kokoluwie, @cozymochaa, @picketniffler, @christinamadsen, @harriedandharassed, @rosharanfiction, @xfanficluvrx, @isabellaboo2025, @kirsteng42, @missadangel, @bishtrouille, @death-in-a-tar0t-card, @mystickittytaco, @missladym1981,

Tags WIP Wednesday post: @aurorawritestoescape, @ess-evo, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking

Divider credit: @/bonnieknowsbest

[russianblush]

𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — series masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Summary: Joel has remained the only constant in your life. Absent parents and Joel's willingness to be the guide that you need only becomes more confusing as you grow older and one harmless camping trip changes the trajectory of your relationship with him forever.

series warnings include — dbf!joel, virgin!reader, age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), daddy AND mommy issues, terms of endearment (sweetheart, kiddo) power dynamics, abandonment issues, reader has a defined major in college, mention of inappropriate relationships, joel has a distorted sense of right and wrong, inappropriate but NOT wasteful use of alcohol (and one (1) sleeping bag), this started as a smut series but quickly gained plot, there's so much sex in this (detailed with chapters)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Chapter List (updates every Sunday)

One: Moon

Two: Sun

Three: Mercury

Four: Venus

Five: Neptune

Six: Mars

[bemyluvr]

Dreaming Of You

𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑴𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨𝒀 𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 - somnophilia

pairing: jackson!joel x reader

summary: walking home in a snow storm with cold hands and sticky panties, you find joel sound asleep on the couch—and he looks a little too good to resist

cw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, established relationship, somnophilia, sleepy!joel, pre established consent, mention of balls, riding him soft, cowgirl position, praise kink, tit play, creampie, cockwarming

wc: 2.4k

a/n: not proofread, don’t kill me!

The long walk home quickly became strenuous, the harsh winter wind biting at your checks made your lips tingle, and nose uncomfortably numb.

The snow fall started much earlier than you expected, the soft powder flakes quickly turned into an aggressive blanket of snow, your boots slick as you slowly inched your way home.

Although your fingers were freezing cold as you twisted the doorknob, you were thankful to see smoke still erupting from the chimney, the grey clouds thinning out into the gloomy sky.

Kicking your snowy boots on the charcoal colored door matt—the white snowy residue was already caked on thick, the fluffy substance falling to the ground in large chunks.

Pushing your fingers in the loops of your wet boots, you easily pull them off your cold, soggy toes, allowing yourself to get more comfortable in the cozy heat of your shared home.

Walking into the house, the hot air almost knocks you back, your nostrils burning as you take a deep breath, replacing it with a soft hum.

With the curtains closed and the main lights shuttered off, your eyes attempt to focus their sight on the dark space, looking around the room for any sign of Joel.

You slide your jacket off your shoulders, placing it on the shaky coat rack, your chest feels lighter as you take a step closer to the living room.

Stepping around the counter—there you see him, lazily sprawled wide on the worn out couch out, his legs dangling off the edge.

You’ll scold him later tonight for his choice of laying his dirty boots on the puffy arm rests, but right now—you can’t help but gravitate towards the sleeping man.

He looks so peaceful like this, the deep lines in his face have softened in his deep sleep; a rare occasion of relaxation has done him well, the sight making your heart swoon.

Your hand follows the curve of the leather, the crumbled skin flaking against your cold palm as you close in on him, getting a closer look at the tired man.

His denim shirt was lazily thrown over the top of the couch cushion, the fabric wrinkling over itself as his torso was left in a thinner material; the deep blue t-shirt hugging him tightly as the material pulled thin around his belly.

A familiar heat rose through your body—not from the fire, but from the need to feel his skin on yours.

You wanted him just like this—the peaceful sight of him was becoming more evident these days, living tucked away in Jackson, Joel wasn’t constantly stuck in survival mode—he was finally living the life he deserved.

You stand there watching him, your frame towering over his resting one as you debate on what you wanted to do.

Should you wake him up? Deprive him of his much needed rest?

No. That seemed unfair—he deserved to catch up on the years of sleepless nights.

Biting the inside of your lip, a memory creeps its way through the cracks of your mind, remembering a casual conversation between the two of you one late evening.

“Anytime you want me, you have me.”

“Even when you’re sleeping?”

“That’d be a nice thing ta’ wake up to ain’t it? I’d be real lucky.”

You believed that conversation was just pillow talk, but right now—you can’t stop thinking about the way his words hummed quietly in your ear, his voice so effortlessly slight, you're unsure if you even remembered them correctly.

That very conversation rotates around your brain like a merry-go-round, the memory making your core tense up.

Anytime. Anywhere.

Did that mean now? Even though he’s sound asleep, little snores bubbling out his chest and through his mouth?

You lean in, taking a closer look at the dreaming man. He looked too damn good to let this opportunity go to waste, his beard grown in just how you like it—scruffy and dark, the silver strands of hair finding solace on his puffy cheeks.

Crossing your legs to relieve the pressure on your cunt, you notice his hair was damp as well, probably came straight home and into the hot shower, washing away all the dirt and leftover grime on his body—it was a shame he didn’t wait for you, but how did he clean up nice, sitting himself snug against the brown cushions.

Your brain turns to mush as your shaky hands absentmindedly make their way down to your jeans, peeling the denim off your legs, the material still cold as it snags against your knees. Pulling them down to the ground, you quietly step out of the thick material, feeling the warm air from the stove swirl around your thighs.

Your shirt is next, the thick material suddenly becoming too itchy as the seconds pass by, throwing it off your body a little too quickly, you swiftly shed the layers—not bothering to take your panties off.

Approaching him, your knees hit the soft curve of the couch as you go to straddle him, feeling your body begin to seep through the cracks of the plush material.

Careful not to awake him—you slowly maneuver up his body, resting your butt against his lower thighs, balancing yourself against your legs.

Your fingers tip-toe up his thick thigh, and even in his sleep, Joel’s body can sense you on top of him, his body follows your touch, the muscles clenching under your fingertips with each warm press of your hand.

Small fingertips softly edge the indent of his upper thigh, quickly feeling the palpable warmth from his heavy balls, the space undeniably him as you lean in, seeing the curve of his cock.

Silently thanking God that Joel put on a loose pair of sweatpants, the outline of his cock ever so slightly pokes through the thin, aged material. The view makes your belly swirl in anticipation, your arm shaking as you raise it in the air.

You giggle to yourself at him forgoing briefs, silently thanking him for the easy access as you roll the waistband down over itself, giving you access to what remains down inside the material.

When you finally feel his half-hard cock against the tops of your fingers—your throat quickly goes dry, swallowing roughly at the feeling as you wrap your palm around him.

You gently pull him from the dark grey cotton, allowing his squishy shaft to lay softly against his pelvis.

Most men would be self conscious at the sight of their soft cock laying against themselves, but when Joel looks like this? His cock weeping a small clear tear of precum, his dark wiry pubes tickling the base of his shaft—he’s never looked so angelic, his body so soft and warm as you sit against his thighs.

But then—his body slightly shifts against you, his stomach stuttering as his breathing begins to shake.

You freeze. Holding your breath deep in your lungs, you wait for any sign of consciousness, yet he only grumbles; his lips smacking together as he sighs, a small snore creeping through his open mouth.

You wouldn’t mind Joel waking up, hell—you’d welcome it, but right now you’re having too much fun without him knowing, the anticipation of getting caught makes your cunt dampen, your wetness brushing past your puffy lips.

Gasping, you watch how the blood rushes to his cock only from your hand, the thick member slightly rising its head, poking its direction towards you.

You can’t wait any longer as you maneuver yourself, anchoring your hips just above his cock, you move your panties to the side to take him, pulling hard at the fabric—the elastic rips as it’s stretched wide, the microscopic threads snapping as they bundle to the side of your pubic bone.

You think it’s best not to tease, instead you rip the bandaid off all at once, feeling his tip catch your aching hole. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling, unable to control your muscle from squeezing down on his head as it inches inside of you.

Biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, you sink your way down his cock, tasting the metallic flavor against your tongue as you soothe it over, focusing on anything but Joel’s growing cock inside of your walls.

You bury him to the hilt, his half-hard cock lazily fills your walls with fluidity, the sticky soft skin mixing with your tight warm muscle.

It’s rare to feel him like this, his cock is always excited to see you. Without fail—his dick only ever enters you rock hard and tip throbbing—and to feel him like this, his cock beginning to grow inside of you, makes you grow breathless.

His shaft begins to further expand inside of you, the wide tip blooming against your cervix makes you feel fuller than ever as it rubs against your hard halt, his cock fully awakening inside of you.

Staring down at him—he’s still fast asleep, his deep snores pushed out from his belly echo around your knees, the sleepy sounds letting you know the plan is still in motion.

But then—he moves. Again.

Joel adjusts his hips, the subconscious feeling of weight on his lap, his body responds to the feeling; a pretty wet cunt planted on top of him sends a signal to his body to move. He adjusts his hips, bucking his cock up into your g-spot and the feeling makes your desire bubble to the surface.

Unable to stop the moan that threatens to spill from your lips, your hips accidentally buckle against him, rocking his fuzzy pubes onto your throbbing clit, feeling your eyes flutter into the back of your skull.

You watch his face as you grind your hips into his, his nose twitching and lip wobbling as he breathes uncomfortably through his mouth—a sound so quiet you can barely distinguish it from his snores slips out—a small twisted grunt fumbling from his lips.

You know you should slow down, yet the friction against your fluttering clit feels too good to stop, you still crave more ecstasy—although his cock fills you full, you need the stimulation more than anything, deciding to bypass the dull sensation in your legs by playing with your nipples.

They are hard from the many cold minutes of exposed air, the warm hued pebbles have tightened and gone bumpy as you swirl your finger around your left one, pinching and prodding at the small bud.

Throwing your head back, you feel your throat quickly tighten as a sinful moan rips from your lips—the noise finally loud enough to wake Joel from his dreams.

His eyes flutter open, his own mouth wide in shock as he sees you naked, planted on his now freed cock.

“Shit honey! W-what are you doing?” He groans, jaw slack as his eyes soak in the sight.

“Looked too good, couldn’t wait.” Breathless, your movements heed on, grinding yourself shamelessly onto his cock, feeling his cock jump as it pushes against your walls.

Adjusting himself on the couch, he gets comfortable enough to watch you on top of him, his hands flying down to your waist.

“‘s a good thing you couldn’t wait, feels so good I thought I was dreamin’.” His hands dig into the fat of your hips, encouraging your body to grind against him.

Your hips stutter from his words, a wicked smirk growing on your cheeks as you look down at him, anchoring your palm on his chest.

“W-what were you dreaming about?”

“This right here honey, watchin’ you take this dick, making yourself feel real good.”

His words sound like honey on your tongue, his sweet raspy voice rumbles against your core. He wants you to make yourself feel good—fuck yourself right on his cock.

“Keep wakin’ me up like this, gon’ live forever.” Joel swoons, his eyes turning black as his pupils dilate at the sight of you taking him so effortlessly.

Moaning, you begin to pick your hips up, taking his cock just like he said, you pound your ass onto his hips, feeling his cock plunge deep inside of you.

“Just like that honey, take all the time you need.”

Your hips drop roughly onto his cock, the plopping sound fills the room as you take him like a bitch in heat.

Your breathing hitches in your throat at the full feeling between your legs, feeling like a puddle on his lap.

“Knew what she needed, took it without askin’.”He gleams, taking your hand off his chest and to his mouth, kissing your wrist.

Joel’s being real soft on you—he knows exactly what to say to make you feel like mush, his words making your body tingle with arousal.

Joel’s dominant hand comes up flat against your belly, feeling his cock pump in and out of your body as he pushes down against the flesh. He can’t help but growl at the feeling—you, his pretty girl is taking him fully, all without an ounce of hesitation.

His hand travels further until it hits the fat of your chest, his fingers grazing the soft skin underneath your round breasts.

Taking a nipple in his fingers, he roughly rubs the pebble on his fingerprints, feeling it soften against his warmth before he’s pinching it hard—roughly twirling and pulling at the bead.

Repeating his actions, he doesn’t forgo your neglected breast, his hand light to the touch as it travels over the valley between your chest, his fingers finding your other nipple.

“Lookin’ real pretty down here, tits bouncin’ and pussy clenching. You take me so well baby.”

His soft and sharp movements on your tits send fiery signals down to your clit, your body heating up with its impending orgasm.

You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up your pace, your thighs burning from the movements of your hips.

“J-Joel, want you to fill me up, fuck me full of you.” You cry, your pace faltering as you attempt to grab onto him for leverage.

“Shit,” he curses, adjusting himself to lift up his hips, his cock meeting your cunt. “I will darlin’, get yer belly full from my cock.”

“Please, please, please!” You repeat like a mantra, unsure what your saying at this point, your mind going fuzzy as he finds a way to fuck into you.

His hips are much faster than your tired ones, his cock fucking up into your g-spot, you angle your hips in such a way to feel his pelvis against your clit, the prodding motion finally making you cum hard on his dick.

Throwing your head back, a strangled whine releases from the back of your throat as you ride out the feeling of your release, your walls clenching as you shake.

Your hips rock against him like a wave, tall circular motions from your wet leaking pussy cause Joel’s dick to tense up inside of your tight walls, feeling his own release erupt.

“Just like that-fuck!” His cum fills you deep, your body on top of him creates a plug for his seed, every last inch of his release enters your walls—all without falling out.

Your cunt is greedy, body grinding and walls clenching as it sucks him dry until his last drop, letting it soak past your cervix.

Being on top for so long as made you grow tired, throwing your arms around him, you easily fall into his neck, your body fitting against him like a puzzle piece.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his ear, brushing your nose past his hairy cheek.

His lips find your temple, planting a small peck to the sweaty skin.

“Want ya to stay right here for a bit, try ‘n relax.” He murmurs, his voice still hoarse from his nap.

“Mhm, too tired to get up.” You whisper, your eyes growing heavy with sleep.

You’re tired yet Joel is wide awake, dragging his hand up and down your spine.

He listens to your breathing even out against him, his eyes gazing over to the window—watching the heavy snowfall pour from the sky.

⋆❆˖°kinkmas taglist: @harriedandharassed @chloeee20 @millercontracting @thegirlulike @uncassettodiricordi @mcthsman @millersweetheart @vanishintoyoubby @vickie5446 @pleurspetal @lunarmoonbeam1 @valyrianjoel @naiadglow @hollyseb @brooklynadoresdior @bbyanarchist @david-10ninch-blog @joelmillersgirl123 @joseyeeeee @ilovetoomanymen @cherrycokeispunk @ptolemaea444 @eviispunk @alalalaqua @sophx58 @sugarsunshine4 @peakybby @littlemissescherry @jvlcisx @mossunderthenightsky @mysterialee @nastysupertoga @pedrosaddict @rosecherry @meteoritelester @aizawasluvver @bratty-spicee @elyionaa @dani111 @furiousprincesskingdom @pedrofan @isimpforfictionalmen @ssop-hiee @realultracunt @tearsweetenedtea @sundawn1990 @ricatotsiee @sprigsofhazel @vvayamaya @iluvdilfsmorethanu

[millers-angel]

casual divorced!joel miller x reader

♡ summary: is it really casual? ୨୧ cw: jealous!joel, sex, joel ties reader with a shirt, edging (not sure but just in case), slapping during sex, creampie

it was never serious and you both knew it.

joel fucked you like no one else did. he was old, and maybe that's why he knows what he's doing, maybe that's why he knows how to treat you right in bed, wether it's rough, soft, or in between. he knows how to make you come every single time.

but even so, you both kept it casual.

it was casual because because joel thinks he's too old for you, because you were young and pretty and sweet, and even though he knew how much of an expert you are when it comes to sex, he feels you deserve someone your age. not to mention his failed marriage, he can't allow himself to catch feelings for someone else.

it was casual because that was safer for him, safer for you.

it was casual, but you kissed like you were saving each other's lives. it was casual, but there were shirts of yours folded in his dresser and a pair of your socks hidden somewhere in his truck. it was casual, but he made you breakfast when you stayed the night, and you'd heal him when he came home hurt from work. it was casual, but you sometimes packed him lunch before a long shift, and he sometimes fixed things around your apartment without you even asking. it was casual, but he never let you call someone else for help, he always wanted to be the one to take care of it.

like today.

you had a hole in your wall that needed to be fixed and he offered immediately and brought you with him to buy the supplies for it.

you watched him crouch in the aisle, big hands turning over boxes of things you didn't even know, you just held the little paper list he wrote before coming.

"this one’ll work," he said, throwing the box into the cart. "you good with white patch paint? matches the wall better."

"joel, i don’t even know what patch paint is," you said laughing.

"guess you’re learnin’ today, then."

it was always like this, casual, but not. casual, but you were here. casual, but his shirt smelled like your detergent because you'd done his laundry last week.

he caught you staring at his arms and hands. "what?"

you shrugged, suddenly shy. "nothing. just… thanks, for doing this."

"ain’t no trouble. ‘s better if i do it myself anyway. don’t want you callin' some idiot who's gonna overcharge you."

you laughed. "overcharge me?"

"some men can be real idiots," he shrugged.

"and you're not gonna overcharge me?"

he chuckled. "i wouldn't," he glanced at you up and down. "you'll find a good way to pay me."

you rolled your eyes and pushed him with your shoulder, he laughed too. he went directly to the register and paid, ignoring your hand when you tried to grab your wallet.

"joel, i could've—"

"and you will," he said with a smirk.

you narrowed your eyes. "you came back from work impatient, huh?"

joel just shrugged. "it's been a while."

you scoffed, following him out of the store. "you’re so dramatic."

"shut up," he said with a small smile, tossing everything in the back of his truck.

on the way to your apartment, he let you pick the cd, he always does because he likes hearing you sing. joel tried not to smile too much, but when you nudged his arm and told him to sing with you, he actually did.

you reached over and opened the glovebox, but instead found a familiar top crumpled inside.

"oh my god," you laughed, holding it up. "i was looking for this!"

joel glanced and smile to it. "you put it there in a hurry, remember?"

you bit your lip and laughed harder, your cheeks blushing. "that was a good night."

"yeah," he said remembering like it was yesterday.

when you got to the building, he held everything to the elevator, even though you’d offered to help more than once.

"joel, i can carry one," you said trying to reach a box.

"nah," he shook his head, shifting the boxes in his arms. "i got it."

the elevator stopped on the second floor and a guy stepped in, smiling as soon as he saw you.

"hey," he said.

"hey," you said back, smiling.

"how are you doin'?" he said, leaning against the wall.

"been busy," you laughed softly.

the two kept talking, and then he said, "that dress looks really nice on you, by the way."

you felt your cheeks burn. "thanks," you said.

joel didn’t say anything, just stared to the door, until the elevator stopped at your floor. you went straight to unlock your door, letting him in first.

"here," you pointed toward the wall. "that’s the hole."

"mm," joel grunted, crouching down to see how it was.

he started working on it while you disappeared to the kitchen and grab some water. when you cam back, you just leaned on the doorframe, staring at him and maybe he felt it cause he looked at you over his shoulder.

"i’ve got wine," you said softly. "we could have a glass later?"

he just nodded, still working.

"are you working tomorrow?" you asked. "so i know what to make you for lunch."

"you don’t have to do that," he said without looking up.

"it’s not a problem."

"no, thanks."

you nodded, just watching him work, how serious he was.

"why do you look so mad when you work?" you asked, tilting your head.

joel’s face softened. "just focusin', is all."

you grinned. "you look so strong, though," you said, reaching out to squeeze his bicep.

he scoffed, shaking his head.

"i’m gonna make dinner," you said, heading back to the kitchen.

"alright," joel murmured, still working.

you cooked something simple, and once it was ready you went back to him. joel was still crouched by the wall, but almost done, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"food's ready," you said softly.

"wall’s almost done too," he muttered.

you stepped closer, watching the way he worked, the way his veins showed even more, the way his big calloused hands held the materials, making them look small. there was something about seeing him like this, so manly and strong, that made your stomach flutter.

"done," he finally said, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans.

"thank you," you said, sincerely.

"no problem, angel," joel said.

you both went to the table, sitting down to eat. joel looked tired, still sweaty, and very hungry overall, he finished his plate fast enough that you found yourself asking, "want some more?"

he just nodded, so you got up and served him another portion, then sat back down and just watched him eat, chin resting on your hand.

when he finally finished, you took both plates to the sink and started rinsing them. behind you, joel cleared his throat.

"food was good," he said.

you smiled over your shoulder. "so we’re even now, right?"

he rolled his eyes, and came closer, his hips brushing yours. "no, not yet," he said pressing his hips on yours, making you squirm. "should i serve the wine?"

you leaned your head on his shoulder. "yes, please."

and when you finished the dishes, you went with him to the living room, to sit on the couch and have a glass of wine. you kicked off your shoes and put your legs over his lap.

you talked about how hard he's been working these days, how tired he comes home, how long his shifts are. and then he started fidgeting your toes mid-talk, not even realizing what he was doing, until it tickled you and you couldn't help to giggle.

"what?" he asked.

you nodded at your feet. "you're tickling me."

he chuckled and looked down to them, holding one to his lips. "you're drunk, aren't you?" you asked, still laughing but letting him kiss your calves too.

"not at all," he answered.

you leaned forward, cupping his face. "you're all sweaty," you said chuckling.

he hummed. "we should take a shower," he shrugged.

"we? i ain't sweaty," you teased, lips brushing his ear.

"no, but..." he said wrapping your waist, pulling you closer.

"yeah?" you asked almost giggling for how needy he was, and the worse part, he couldn't even hide it.

"i like fucking in the shower," he admitted, cold.

your cheeks burned and you couldn't help to laugh at it, because he's not lying tho. joel loves fucking you in the shower, pinning you against the wall, letting the steam cover your bodies. sometimes he likes rubbing the shampoo on your scalp, too.

"and i thought you were here because you wanted to help me with the wall," you said.

"well, that too," he shrugged. "to see your pretty face, too."

you grinned, staring at his lips, dry and probably raspy, somethig only you could fix. "that so?" he nodded, staring back.

one thing led to another and your lips found his, slow at first, your hand resting on his chest, then climbing to his neck, tangling your fingers on his hair, gently pulling. instead, his hands were on your hips, pulling you closer.

"god, miller," you said, breathless.

but he wasn't hearing any of it, he pulled you by the cheek again. you nibbled on his lip just a little, enough to make him squirm and shifting you on his lap. a lazy, long movement.

he wasn't satisfied with that, no. he slipped his hands under your dress as he kissed you, until he found the fabric of your panties. he knew it right away and it sent shivers to the tip of his cock.

"i like these," he rasped against your lips, trying to lift the hem of your dress to see you better, but you only giggled, turning around slightly, enough to let him see, just a sneak peek of what he's gonna have later.

he stiffened. "you always wear these, huh," he said pulling the waistband of the tiny.

"nope, just cause i knew i'd see you today," you shrugged.

his gaze darkened. "these are for me?" you chuckled and shook your head, suddenly shy. "tell me."

you peeked up at him and pressed your lips on his. "maybe," you brushed your thumbs on his beard. "cause i know you like 'em, and..." you drawled, looking at his lips and eyes on a sway. "you really need a woman who doesn't bore you the way she did."

that got him a laugh. maybe you're the only person he'd allow to talk about his marriage, about his past. "you're brave."

you scoffed, dragging your finger on his chest. "you don’t need some boring woman," you murmured, tilting your head as your lips almost brushed his, "old, bitter, always bringing you problems."

"yeah?" he asked, lazy gaze and raspy voice.

you nodded. "not to talk about using those blue pills," you finally said, brushing your lips on his. "you don't use them with me."

he gripped your hips under the dress before you met his lips. you both were hungry for each other, the rythm of your tongues, the way the living room filled with nothing but the noise of your lips and drool colliding.

he bit your lip just a little, but enough for you to pull away to chuckle and then you pushed his tummy with your hand, but he flinched. "did i hurt you?"

he shook his head. "it's just... i got a scrape from work."

you frowned and kneeled on the couch, trying to lean so you could lift his shirt, but he grabbed your hand. "it's fine, come here," he said trying to hold your face again.

"joel, let me see, please?"

after a long seconds of just staring at each other, he sighed and let you lift his shirt, revealing his bare tummy and his scrap, almost bleeding, swollen and really bad. you gasped and before he could say something, you stood up to get the first aid-kit.

you came back with the first-aid kit and kneeled back on the couch. you cleaned the scrape carefully, he hissed a bit, of course it still hurt. "joel, stay still," you murmured.

"you didn’t have to do all this," he muttered.

"yes, i did," you said still looking at his wound. "if i don’t, you’re only going to hurt yourself more."

"it wasn’t that bad," he grumbled.

you shook your head. "joel, do you have more cuts like this?"

he exhaled, and shook his head.

"good," you said, finally lifting your eyes to his.

"now calm down, nurse," he joked, grinning.

you rolled your eyes and closed the kit, setting it on the table. "do you want another glass of wine?"

he shook his head.

you sighed and sat back down beside him, brushing your hands on your thighs.

"thank you," he said quietly, "for… helping with this."

you tilted your head and smiled. "well, you’ve got your own personal nurse, don’t you?"

"a little bossy, though," he said chuckling. you glared at him, so he started mocking you. "joel don't do that, joel stay still, joel—"

"fuck off, then," you said laughing, pushing him by the shoulder.

he caught your hands. "but sure as hell, the sexiest nurse i've met," he said pulling you down with him again, but you were fighting him, faking being upset. "oh, c'mere."

he held you by your hips, settling you on his lap again. you were still trying to stand up, but his hands only got tighter, stronger on your hips, not to talk about the fact that you were bouncing on his lap all the time, and he wasn't made of stone. he kept swaying you on purpose, and you weren't dumb either.

"god, miller," you said breathless. "you missed me that much, huh?"

he nodded, bucking his hips on you, letting you feel how hard he was getting. "i've been working my ass all week."

you grinned and straddled him, swaying your hips too, holding his face between your hands. "and you need your sex toy?" you said looking straight to his eyes. "you need someone to take care of your cock? someone who actually knows how to make you feel good."

he hissed, crearly aroused. he met your lips once, twice, until you were bucking your hips harder, feeling him on your slit, making him groan.

you bit his lip and slipped your hand to his thighs, searching for his bulge, until you grabbed it and stroke it over his clothes. "guess we don't need those blue pills," you unbuttoned his jeans. "she must've been real boring."

he hissed, nodding like a fool when your hand found his dick over the soft fabric of his boxers. "careful," he hissed.

"or what?" you teased, squeezing his dick.

he stiffened, like he was fighting with himself, until you bit his neck just enough to make him groan. that broke him, he grabbed your waist, hauling you up against his chest.

"joel—" you squeaked, but he was already standing, never letting you go, just tightening his grip on your thighs.

"shut up," he muttered as he carried you to your bedroom, "or i’ll make sure you can’t talk at all."

you clung to him, heart racing, until he kicked your bedroom door open and laid you down on the bed.

he wasted no time taking off his shirt, until his eyes landed on something on the floor, a shirt that definitely wasn’t his. he bent to pick it up, holding it up between two fingers.

"what’s this?" he asked.

you laughed softly. "it’s a shirt."

"whose?" he asked.

you grinned. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

joel just looked at you. "it that kid from the elevator?" you just laughed. "you been seeing that kid?"

you rolled your eyes, settling back against the pillows. "he came by the other day, forgot his shirt. that’s all."

joel leaned over you, with the shirt still on his fist. "block him."

you burst out laughing, covering your mouth with your hand. "you’re not serious."

his face didn’t change. "i’m not jokin’. block him."

you tilted your head. "joel… are you jealous?"

he braced a hand by your head, his chest almost brushing yours. "maybe i am. so what? block him."

you bit your lip, cupping his face. "you're the first one always reminding me my place with you. now you want me to block someone, again?"

he took your hands off his face gently, kissing your knuckles before pinning them on the pillow, tying your wrists with the guy's shirt. not the first time he does this.

your breathing got heavy, now that you're all vulnerable beneath him. all to his will. he took your dress off too, leaving you on underwear, if you can call it like that. his gaze darkened, knowing you wore this cause you were gonna see him today, because you knew you were gonna end up like this. because you wore the thong for him.

he leaned down to bite the slope of your breasts, sucking your skin, enough to leave marks. not to talk about the way he nibbled on your nipples, leaving them puffy and sensitive as his hand slipped between your thighs, toying the thong, playing on your slit.

you tried to move your hands but his knot was too tight. "god, joel, you're—" you whined. "wait."

he shook his head, forcing his fingers to rip the tiny fabric of your thong. "you drive me crazy," he groaned.

you bit your lip and let him do what he wanted with you.

and he did. after using his fingers enough on your pussy, leaving you all swollen, aching, needing, he shifted over you, freeing his dick, teasing your slit, mesmerized by the size difference between you both.

"joel, please," you begged.

he looked at you, "tell me you're gonna block him."

"we've done this before," you said squirming.

his tip twitched at your entrance. "then do as i say," he said. "block him."

you nodded. "i will, joel, i'll block him."

he slipped inisde you with no warning, thrusting hard all at once, making you moan like no one else did. no man can touch you like him, no man can make you get this wet for him, and most importantly, no man can make you come like joel.

he knows the power he got over you, he knows what you like and how you like it. and he was giving you that. you don't like it gentle, and truth to be told, he didn't either. it was raw and rough, the way he was using his little sex toy, the way he was making you almost scream his name, over and over, asking for more.

he moaned, too. "you're gonna ruin me."

you smiled, breasts bouncing up and down as he thrusted. he gripped your jaw between his fingers and then slapped you, not harsh, but enough to leave a red mark on your cheek. "no more guys, okay?"

you chuckled, hair sticking to your cheeks by the sweat. "joel, i—" you whimpered. "i need to come."

he stopped thrusting. "no more guys."

you hummed, complaining. "joel, please."

he slapped you again, and grabbed your jaw immediately. "say it."

"no more guys," you repeated, breathless.

"good girl," he said patting your cheek this time, thrusting.

he almost never comes inside, cause he says it's too risky even if you're safe. but hell, this time, he couldn't help himself, he needed to mark his property, he needed to make sure you understood you belongned to him even if anything was clear between you. so he painted the walls of your cunt white with his cum.

you bit your lip, twirling your wrists, trying to move but failing. "i hope you don't forget who you belong to, sweetheart," he said slipping out.

you shook your head, breathless. "i won't."

✿₊˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

masterlist

[mikolunaria]

Ooooh, I hate hate HATE scummy people like this ⬇️⬇️

I normally don’t get upset about stuff but this needs to get out more traction to get her off this app. So, spread the word — block, report and share. I know I’m being hypocritical with this blog but Joelspookie can’t keep getting away with this.

She’ll keep stealing and reposting fics word for word, without giving credit until Tumblr does something eventually so please please do what you all can. Share with friends, tell mutuals, reblog. Whatever gets word out.

NONE of us take plagiarism lightly nor blatant stealing.

So I urge you all to find the original creators to every work this person has stolen to support them instead

[tinysunshine-deactivated2026020]

‎ 𝐃𝐀𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 - 𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐓

‎ [ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

You want him. You’re tired enough to admit it to yourself, but you also want this. A safe and timeless kind of touching, one you have never, and probably will never do with somebody else. There is nobody else who knows you like this, who would let you do this without question or desire, nobody but uncle Joel. He’s family enough to understand, and stranger enough to allow it.

Or: The man next door, who you have called uncle for most of your life, becomes...well, more.

Read here. Written by myself and the talented @littlcdarlin <3

[millersmochi]

꩜ Requests

⁀➴ Joel is just an achy old man that wants to make you feel good, and he certainly appreciates your creativity. ⁀➴ pairing jackson!joel x silly!f!reader ⁀➴ brace yourself smut mdni!!! porn what plot (...kinda, don't shoot me), age gap (25 & 60), established relationship, soft!joel, face-sitting, porn magazines, some fluff & aftercare, birthday sex, food play, thumb+tongue in the bum, dubcon?, joel calls reader a slut once, not proofread! lmk if i missed any ⁀➴ wc 5.8k ♡ credit to @eightestmonth and her brain, i hope it lives up to your standards :D also for some reason i could not stop envisioning reader as patty from dinner in america. joel would like her... i think. (cus you also wanted a tag :D @pleurspetal)

masterlist | AO3

Joel’s boots were beginning to drag against the ground, a sign of how tired his body was after a long day at work. He wanted nothing more than to pull you on top of his body and fall asleep under the weight of you.

You’d been seeing each other for some months now, and it wasn’t exactly easy in the beginning. You were full of energy and love to give, and the poor man was just not as young as you made him feel. It didn’t stop him from trying to keep up with you, and it most certainly didn’t stop him from delivering.

You knew he’d be tired, being one of the harder shifts of the week he had to work. But your fingers weren't enough. In fact, the drawn out orgasm you’d given yourself that morning only seemed to make you ache even more for the smell, touch, and sight of Joel.

So when you heard the latch click open on the front door you ran out of the kitchen, greeting his leathered face with a cheerful expression.

“Mm— what’s got you so excited?” He mumbled against your lips that wouldn’t stop kissing him. “Miss me that much, huh?”

“Always,” you said, “come sit. I wanna ask you something.”

And his knees were more than happy to oblige.

He saw the way your eyes were more down than up, but he didn’t urge it out of you.

“I am just—really so fucking horny today, and I know!”

He closed his mouth after opening it to protest, then his lips drew thin like he was almost scolding you.

“I know you’re tired, Tuesday’s are lazy days… But fuck, Joel, just like… Let me ride your face or something.”

Not many more words were exchanged after that request. In a matter of a minute you were naked and straddling his scratchy face, pussy leaking down onto his neck.

His rough hands ran up your spine, elbows keeping you firmly placed on his mouth. It was then he realized the one muscle in his body that wasn’t tired after a long day of work was his tongue.

And you loved it, how it slipped between your folds and curled into the hood of your needy clit while his moans carried you through limbo to your first orgasm.

Your nipples peaked between his fingers that toyed with them. His tongue didn’t stop either, slipping up into you and obnoxiously slurping up whatever juice poured out before tracing your clit again once it had stopped throbbing as much.

It was orgasm after orgasm that evening, and Joel didn’t have to move a muscle. Well, the sore ones anyway.

That’s how it started — your little requests weren’t frequent enough to make him feel like he wasn’t pleasing you, but not seldom enough to where you two grew bored of each other.

It was a month since that first ask, and on a supply run you’d spotted a Playboy magazine. You thought Playboy was an old game or something at first so you grabbed it out of curiosity, and after flipping through a few high quality pages you saw one that piqued your interest: a woman bent over a sink looking at the camera through the reflection of a mirror.

You rolled the magazine up and snuck it in your pack without anyone noticing, mind on one thing and one thing only for the rest of the day.

By the time you’d returned to Jackson and finished up your duties the sun was beginning to set, marking the end of the day for most of the community, including Joel, so it wasn’t a surprise seeing him with his reading glasses on tinkering with something that seemed important but wasn’t as important as the soaked panties you had on.

“Hey, figured you’d be back later,” Joel greeted.

He pulled his glasses down to see the scowl on your face, recognizing it as your thoughtful face rather than your Joel's-in-big-trouble face.

“Wh-”

“I want you to bend me over the bathroom sink and fuck me in front of the mirror,” you stated. He was silent for a second too long and it made you hesitate. “...If that’s okay with you.”

Joel was up and flinging you over his shoulder in an instant, his boots began trudging up the stairs and your excited laughter planted a smile on his face. You heard him flick the light switch and kick the door shut, then he sat you on the sink counter to give you a wet kiss and undress you out of most of your clothing.

You turned around, balancing yourself in the same position you’d remembered the girl in the magazine was: left toes on the ground, right knee propping you spread and open at the perfect angle for Joel’s hardening cock to slide into.

You watched him intensely in the reflection, seeing how his eyebrows pinched together as your tight hole squeezed around him. He grasped at your waist, pulling your body back to meet his rough thrusts halfway.

“Fuck, look at that pretty little thing,” he moaned. “Suckin’ me up all good an’ sweet.”

Your moans bounced off of the walls of the small room and your pussy grew wetter when he firmly wrapped a hand around your mouth and his dark eyes locked with yours.

“That what you wanted, sweetie? Wanted to watch me take you from behind?”

You tried to nod against the tight grip he had on you; your nails dug into the countertop when he bottomed-out inside of you, and his hand muffled what would have been a screech. He watched the tears well up in your eyes and felt the way your thigh trembled against his.

He did this a few more times, pushing his fat cock deep inside of you until you were oozing thick, white cum. 

You started rolling your hips back into him, loving the way the tip of his dick would nudge your sweet spot over and over again. He let go of your face, watching your eyes squeeze shut before he decided to watch the way your ass bounced off of his soft belly. He leaned back, letting you do whatever you needed to in order to feel good.

The air was thick and hot, almost suffocating as you drew each breath in. You were so close, Joel could feel it in the way your pussy tried to suck him in harder and it made both of your stomachs swell with that unusually familiar gratification.

His thick fingers fumbled around for your clit and when he found it he rubbed sloppy but slow circles around it creating the perfect rhythm for your body to give in.

Your walls pulled in almost too tight, stinging around his thickness as the rest of you went numb. You whined, calves shaking from the odd position as your orgasm rippled through you making the moment feel like an eternity. 

Joel held you through it, whispering things like, “That’s it,” and “Good girl,” while finishing inside of you.

He waited until you looked like you came back to reality, a satisfied grin spread pretty on your face and shined bright in the mirror where he was looking.

“Was that good, baby?” He asked, lips brushing against the warm shell of your ear.

“It was perfect,” you answered.

Carefully he removed your leg from the counter and kissed along your neck, fixing his lips on the way to your shoulder to tell you he’d run you a bath and listen to you tell him all about your last couple of days.

Over the next few days you were compulsively flipping through the booklet of Playboy Bunnies; you knew what porn consisted of, but not what it could be. It got you thinking about how porn is made, and what an actual pornographic movie consisted of. You were starting to ask Joel too many questions that were vague and lewd at the same time, and he was growing frustrated.

“Joel? …You ever watch porn?”

That was your fifth question in the last ten minutes, and he had a sink above him that needed fixing. But the clank of his tools and tired sigh didn’t register to you as you being somewhat of a distraction.

“What?”

You shrugged, tiptoeing over to him and kicking his leg softly. “Movies where they have sex.”

He almost laughed. “I—I know what porn is, I just don’t know why you’re asking if I’ve seen one.”

Your cheeks were turning red, nose scrunching as you thought deeply. “What about porn magazines?”

“You mean like a Playboy?”

“Yes!” You dropped to your knees next to him, tugging his arm and asking him again, “Have you read those before?”

“Well, there’s not much reading to be done,” he joked, “but yeah. When I was a teenager mostly. Why? D’you find one?”

You hummed, pulling yourself back up to run upstairs; he listened to your feet patter on the ceiling above him before you made your way back to sitting next to him on the cold floor. “Look!”

“You brought it home?” He asked incredulously, chuckling at the way your eyes lit up at the naked girl on a prop bed.

You rambled about how the girls looked so pretty with their makeup and hair done, and Joel just listened to you, watching your eyes frantically move around the pictures and point to the least sexual things. “I wish I could get pretty like them for you,” you giggled, “I’d do anything to have my hair and makeup done like a pop star or something. Like these girls.”

Hearing those words made his gut twist with guilt. He never forgot about the age difference between you two but he did often forget how young you were when the world went to shit. Makeup and designer clothes weren’t a priority in this world to anyone, but he didn’t like hearing you say you wished for things. He knew then and there he’d just have to find a way to make you happy.

Not before a few words of encouragement though.

“Sweetheart, you are– here gimmie that.” He took the magazine and tossed it across the floor and then held your face in his grimy hands. “You are prettier than any of those girls. You get more beautiful every damn day.”

“You mean that?” You asked, nothing but playfulness lingered in your voice.

“I do… But, if you want some makeup that bad—”

“YES YES YES! Please, Joel!”

He grunted after you threw yourself onto him. Your constant pleads turned into grateful kisses, and he couldn’t help but to finally laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And a few weeks later he did just that. You’d pretty much forgotten about that conversation, so when he came back from a two day-long run to find you still sleeping in his bed with one of his old t-shirts on, he just set the few things he managed to find on the nightstand and climbed into bed with you.

When you woke up a while later you buried yourself into Joel’s bicep for a little longer before the need to stretch your limbs became too much.

You rolled over, groaning before you spotted something unusual next to you. Quietly, you sat up and reached for the small items reading each of the labels, though they were mostly worn off.

A tube you recognized as mascara, a blush, and something you could only assume to be an eyeliner but you weren’t sure.

You fought your instinct to be loud and disturb the snoring man behind you and tiptoed into the bathroom where you spent the next hour trying to make your eyes look bigger and cheeks redder.

Joel didn’t wake up until you were gone for the day which wasn’t unusual — what was unusual was that it was clear you’d gotten your gift but didn’t disturb his slumber with it.

He briefly pondered whether you liked it or not, but assumed you decided to do him a favor and let him sleep in for once. So, he just smiled at the red-colored fingerprints on the countertop and went on about his day.

“Yeah, we’ll have that house up and ready, end of this week,” he told Maria, who thanked him and told him not to work too late before leaving his office.

You had just finished up with the kids at school and wanted to make it to Joel before he left; he looked up when you leaned on his doorframe where he saw you wearing a shapeless dress and the makeup he’d left for you.

“Well, looky here,” he said as he leaned back in his chair. “You like it?”

Closing and locking the door, you bit your lip and padded over to him, then mindlessly sat on his blueprint sheet. “Best gift ever,” you chirped.

“I get you the right stuff?”

Nodding, you leaned down to give him a kiss. “I think so. Is it too much?”

He ran a thumb over your tinted cheek, a gooey look in his eyes. Your eyes looked extra big with the small eyeliner wing and the longer, blacker lashes. You certainly didn’t need these things to look beautiful, but he was starting to see why you wanted it so bad a few weeks ago.

“No, s’perfect,” he whispered.

“How much longer you gonna be here, old man?”

He pretended to be annoyed with the nickname, sliding you off of his papers and into his lap. “Couple hours.”

Your face scrunched up in disappointment. “That’s too long, Joel,” you complained.

“Well, what am I supposed to do, baby? I can’t just tell Maria to wait—“

“Let’s fuck real quick,” you said. “Oh come onnn, just real quick.”

His eyes peeked at you over the thin frame of his glasses, and his hands attempted to nudge you out of his lap. “No no no,” he scolded, “I gotta finish this up—”

You reaffirmed your position by hinging your knees against his hips. “Oh, come on, just real quick,” you pleaded. “I’ve always wanted you to bend me over the desk, ‘cause who’s gonna come in here and tell you to stop?”

His lips pursed, but still he looked around at all the open blinds and then the annoying papers flooding his desk. You batted your thickened eyelashes at him, stretching to invite him in.

“Fuck,” Joel said underneath his breath. You grinned and started moving your dress up your legs. “You better be wet under here.” He pawed at your thin panties and hummed when he felt how wet they already were. “Feels like you already came in these pretty little panties,” he said as he moved them to the side.

“Been thinking about you all day,” you moaned. 

He slipped his cock out of jeans and slapped it against your swollen clit a few times, watching how your slick made strings every time he pulled it away. You leaned your elbows on the edge of his desk then propped your feet on top of his burly thighs.

“Yeah? Thinkin’ ‘bout this fat cock, baby? Good. Don’t take too long now.” He said, pressing the tip in between your folds and watching your face twist at the delicious stretch. He let you sink down onto him, head lulling back and mindless exhales leaving your mouth.

Joel never got tired of seeing you like this, going stupid on his cock as soon as he slid it in while your face turned red and hot, legs trembling every time he slightly rubbed against that bumpy little sensitive spot inside you. Though he maintained his modesty as much as possible he couldn’t ignore the rush he was feeling from doing it so openly in his office. He loved knowing you needed him so badly you couldn’t wait until he got home.

You were already soaked around him, grinding out the sting in your walls and getting used to the size of him all over again. You were itching for your dose of Joel all day, no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t ignore the instinct in your body that told you it was a perfect time to have sex.

Your pussy was sensitive, walls gummy and warm as they clamped tight with every slow grind. You were almost embarrassed by how close you already were. He listened to you whine above him, focusing intensely on your rosy cheeks. 

“Such a pretty color I found, isn’t it?” He asked, smirking when you shot him a confused look. “On your cheeks,” he explained. “Come on, babygirl. Ain’t got much time, now.”

The sound of your ass clapping against his thighs when you started bouncing on him echoed loudly in the partially furnished room along with your moans and his grunts. He kept saying something, like c’mon girl, that didn’t quite register to you.

“F-fuck, Jo-oh. We should do this, mnh… We should have sex here m-more.”

The laugh he let out was deep, hoarse, like he found it ridiculous and cute. “You dirty girl,” he teased, “ain’t even come yet and you’re already thinking about our next fuck.”

The muscles in your thighs twitched at his humiliation. He only leaned his chair back and watched as your pussy creamed and squeezed around him. He spit on his thumb after he saw the way your clit pulsed.

“Such a needy little thing, ain’t ya?” He whispered. His dick throbbed when he saw the relief spread across your face once he finally thumbed your clit, rubbing the sweetest circles around making it jolt with sensitivity.

You watched through glassy eyes the way he worked your pussy as you rode him; your hardened nipples stroking against the layers of fabric, giving you that pinch of pleasure you needed to get closer to your climax.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he said, “keep goin’, let me feel that pretty pussy come all over me.”

“Feels s-so good, Joel,” you moaned.

Your legs wanted to give out and your toes curled inside of your shoes that rubbed his skin raw; you were fighting it, he could tell. You wanted it to last longer so that you wouldn’t have to leave him so soon, but he’d already told you not to take too long. The last thing he wanted to do was procrastinate and add onto the already overwhelming work load he had waiting for him tomorrow.

So he broke you, snapping his hips up into you rough enough to feel a difference but easy enough to not make you too sore to walk home. You felt his cock kiss your cervix, every line along his shaft rutting into your g-spot making it more sensitive while his thumb got lazy. It didn’t take much more to break you and have you trembling in his lap.

After your feet fell to the ground Joel steadied you, keeping you upright as you finished out your orgasm yourself. Your moans were pitchy, loud as his name left your throat, then you murmured, “That was amazing,” before laying your head on his shoulder.

He stroked your hair after letting out a chuckle, letting you soak him for a little longer before you came to. You pulled back, flashing him that famous smile he loved seeing so much when you were satisfied.

You raised an eyebrow and gave him a blank stare, and he just knew a question was coming. 

“Did you finish?” You asked.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, he figured you could always tell, but maybe he got it wrong. “Uhh, no…?”

You patted his chest and stood up to fix your clothes before saying, “Welp, guess you’ll have to wait a couple hours.” You gave his crinkled cheek a kiss before walking to his door, waving at him. “Bye!”

He ended up finishing the blueprint in the morning.

Half a month later was his birthday, and you had been pestering Joel about what he wanted, which he constantly replied with your new least favorite word: “Nothing.”

He swore he could see steam coming out of your ears every time he said that seven letter word, and it only became more and more funny to him. Even when you phrased the question differently he still managed to find a way to slip a nothing in. 

“Do you want something practical for your birthday?” You’d ask.

“I told you I don’t want nothing.”

And he’d laugh his ass off right after, and you quickly learned to not correct the double negative as it’d just result in more teasing.

Still, you insisted on getting him something for his birthday, and at some point you settled on cake.

Not just the traditional kind.

You were wearing one of his t-shirts by the time he came home from some meeting with his brother; he found you in the kitchen where you were beating something in a bowl, and just admired you in your comfort. Messy ponytail and evidence of a cake being made due to the considerable amount of flour on the floor while you hummed along to some country song going on the record player in the other room.

He watched you turn around, dropping the whisk on the floor and yelping when you saw him leaning against the doorframe.

“Jesus fuck, Joel!”

He walked over and took the whisk out of your hand when you picked it up; he apologized but didn’t hide the fact that he found it funny before discarding the whisk in the sink.

“Now you don’t get your gifts,” you lied.

“Aw, baby come on,” he griped, “don’t be like that.”

“You scared me.”

“I’m sorry, doll, come here.”

He brought you into a firm hug, lips casting kisses all over your scrunched face. His beard tickled and poked you all around, the lines around his eyes crinkling deeper at the sound of you giggling.

“Say sorry again,” you whispered when he found your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing his mouth against yours for a slow, steady kiss. “You made me a cake?”

Your eyes lit up at the reminder of his present. “Oh! No.”

His face fell and he looked around at the very obvious ingredients along the counter. “Wh- then s’all this?”

“I couldn’t figure out what to get you, so I figured I’d just give you me!”

Joel pondered, feeling a swell in his belly at your offering. “Mmkay. That don’t explain all this.”

Scoffing, you reached for the mixing bowl and held it up to his face. “I want you to lick alllll this off of me.”

His head jerked back and he shot a frown at you, earning a simper from you. He removed the bowl from your hands, sliding it on the counter. “You are certainly creative,” he sighed.

Pouting, you took his shirt off of your body to reveal you had nothing on underneath; Joel stared, hand instinctively rising to cup a tit but you smacked it away.

“You didn’t even try it, Joel,” you said.

He motioned for you to go ahead, clearly unamused by your antics. He still sucked the vanilla icing off of your finger when you held it up for him, and moaned at the way you dragged it across his tongue.

“Would you like some cake?” You softly asked him.

Despite being unsure what exactly that meant he nodded, ogling the way you turned around and dug into the icing some more; you used a finger to spread a small line of it up your right butt cheek.

His mouth fell agape and pupils dilated when he understood your request, but without you needing to say another word he dropped onto his sore knees. He cupped your ass in both of his hands, cursing under his breath at the way it spilled out over his hands.

“Don’t be shy,” you said, “it’s your birthday.”

You jumped when he bit the meat of your ass, tittering after his tongue licked up the sweet cream then kissed the spot he gnawed on.

Precum dribbled from between your pussy lips and stuck to your inner thighs during the repetition of dragging some icing up somewhere and having him lick and suck it off of you.

Joel didn’t hold back his desperation either, growling and suffocating himself in your flesh. His face was sticky and warm as he grew more bothered by the second with a cock below his tight denim that throbbed for freedom and your touch.

“Fuckin’ love this ass,” he moaned, giving a hard smack to watch it jiggle for him. His thick hands squeezed and massaged, spreading your cheeks open and giving him a view he didn’t know he was so excited to see. “Look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy, all slippery and wet for me. And that pretty asshole… Is that for me too?”

Your breath was steady, more still that he expected. “Let’s see,” you edged, taking a tiny amount of the sugary spread and covering your asshole with it and bending over.

A greedy hum rumbled in his chest at the filthy sight. He glanced up and caught the smirk on your face, wiping it off as soon as he pressed his slick tongue against the tight ring. You moaned at the strange feeling that took you a second to get used to, it wasn’t like you thought it’d be. In a way it was both underwhelming and riveting.

But then he started flicking his tongue around the brim and the tiny opening making you cry out and arch your ass deeper into his face. He moaned as you puckered against his tongue, tasting the flesh and the last bit of icing that was left behind.

Your hand found a way back into his hair, shoving his face impossibly deep as you grinded against his stubble before his tongue managed to briefly slip into your pussy.

“Does she need some attention too, baby?” His words vibrated soft and low against your skin.

“Can’t wait,” you gasped, “Joel—please…”

He stood back up. A look of contentment crossed his face as you turned around, sly grin pushing your blushing cheeks up. “Tell me what you need, baby,” his voice was quiet but easy.

You gazed into his shadowy orbs, a tickled type of noise emitting from you. “It’s your birthday, Joel.”

“I want you to tell me what you want.” His voice, though still quiet, wasn’t filled with any more hints of merriment. “Like those lil requests you always got for me,” he continued, words steady, certain. “Always wantin’ me to do something new, so go on… What does my babygirl want today?”

“Hmm,” you looked around trying to come up with an idea until you thought of something simple but exciting nonetheless, “I want you to like, have your way with me? Is that what that’s called?”

“Mhm,” he hid his amusement well, treading lightly as he steered the conversation further. “Like what?”

“I want it hard,” you creased, “and rough.”

That made him laugh, loud, the kind that was genuine and raw, but you cocked an eyebrow up which made him shrug.

You tugged on his hand pulling him behind you as you left the kitchen. “What? You too old for it or something?” You bullied. “Gonna complain about them knees again?”

Joel popped your ass as a warning but it didn’t stop you from talking your shit as he chased you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

He wasn’t worried at all about hurting himself, not even with the agitation on his bones. In fact he knew having to push through on a night like this wouldn’t be too grave of a task.

You, though? You were easy to break, he knew that. It didn’t matter how much or little he prepped you, he’d have you dumb on his dick in a matter of minutes every time. He also knew you were trying to push his buttons, get him angry so he’d fuck you harder, but it was all fun and games to him.

He’d give you what you thought you wanted and what he knew would be enough, afraid of loosening the reins too much and too soon.

“Cat got your tongue?” The teeter in your voice was noticeable, but in the way that egged him on.

His tongue clicked, a sign he was getting fed up with your antics. He didn’t bother responding either, eyes keening over your bare features with his boots knocking against the hardwood floor.

You bashed away, turning around and sinking onto your hands and knees.

Joel smirked as inched closer to the bed from the way your body beckoned him; your ass wiggled back trying to find warmth, trying to find him.

A hand of his roughing against your back made you jolt, then you told him again only sounding more destitute than before. “I want you to fuck me hard and rough… Please, Joel? Ohh, pretty please…”

His shoulders slacked alongside the dry wheeze he let out. You were soft, too soft for him to just treat like that. Yet delicious water kept flowing from inside you, and his dick was too dry for how hard it’d gotten. He had to give you something.

“Okay,” he simply said, removing his own clothes in the process.

Joel’s fuzzy tip smack against your asshole to make it ache; your back arched deeper, belly pressing against the sheets and knees burning against the edge of the mattress.

That yummy stretch made you melt inside as he slid his cock in, weighing thick and heavy against your fleshy walls.

He tapped your inner thigh with a couple fingers, watching the corner of your face contort from the feeling of him inside of you.

“Open.”

And you did, panting against your forearm like a puppy getting a treat so that he could fix himself and drive into you. His plush tummy molded against your hips where he kept his dick deep, thrusts faster than the pumps of your heart.

Stupid babbles left your throat sounding hoarse and excited. He wasn’t as vocal as you’d known him to be, but you could sense his focus — only you were already shattering in front of him.

Your cervix swelled every time he brushed against it, pain plunging deep in your stomach. It was only bearable from the feeling of being so full and the strokes against your sweet spot bringing you higher.

You were clawing at the bed, struggling to keep your volume down and he was above you beaming.

“You feel s’good,” you breathed, taking the three seconds he stopped thrusting to ask, “is this rough? I love it.”

It’s hardly rough, he thought, but who was he to rain on your parade?

His hand gripped your hair carefully lifting your face up so he could hear the obscenities that mindlessly came from you.

His cock twitched with every Joel and like that, baby you let out, revelling in how chatty you could get.

But your ability to articulate was dying down and your walls were getting tighter, soaking him in that viscous cream he loved seeing so much.

“Talkin’ all that shit, now look at’cha,” he grunted. “Goin’ dumb on my fucking cock, huh?”

Tears welled in your eyes, a hot swirl spreading across your belly. You cried out as his fingers tightened in your hair before you reached for his wrist.

“Gimmie, gimmiegimmiegimmie,” you huffed, popping his thumb into your mouth and drooling all over it. “My ass, Joel. Put it in there.”

Joel cursed, mind going hazy from your coarse words. He added some more spit of his own, allowing it to drip from his trembling lips.

“Want it in that tight ass,” he spanked you with his other hand, poking at the tiny hole while his other movements slowed.

He didn’t wait for a yes, instead he listened to the wet squelch from between his digit and your tough flesh. He played with it, watched it squeeze somehow tighter than it was before finally dipping into it.

The ache was a wet smolder that had you gripping onto both extremities like your fucking life depended on it.

A few threads of the sheets were torn where you have scratched at, the rest sticking to your sweaty tits and you tried not to run from the overwhelming delight.

His hips seemed to have a mind of their own, barely pulling back before shooting back into you but his thumb was deliberate and gentle.

Just the sight of you bent over and feeling so good from it was more than enough to make him eager to bust his load inside of you.

“You like that—oh, yeah, you fucking love it,” he cooed. “Feels good getting fucked in both holes, dun’it.”

You tried to say yes but it was mushy and guttural instead. Your head bobbed in line with his hasty fucks, eyes piercing the back of your skull with no intention of coming back.

His balls angrily smacked your clit, and you were unsure which part of you was going to come first.

Joel’s rambling didn’t silence your mind either, you were dangerously close and you were failing to distinguish where any of it was coming from.

“Love how you suck it up in there, dirty thing,” he teased. “Squeeze it, baby, come on and show me what a good little slut you are—thaaat’s it. There you go.”

You pussy choked his cock and you waned into his broad waist, stifled moans and hum etching into the duvet as you came.

“Fuck, gonna make me come,” he strained, placing both hands on your waist to ground himself.

Your toes arched along his hairy thighs, mind in a pure daze while he spilled his seed into you.

“Fuck, babe,” he said as his last bit of come spurted out.

You felt his fingers tickle up your spine followed by some kisses. Your skin was musky in his mouth, soaking up that layer of sweat Joel managed to give you.

There were stains from tear droplets beneath your cheeks, but he shushed your lingering whimpers.

“You okay?” He asked.

A lazy nod was all you could muster for a moment or two, waiting until the weight of him was off of you to take a full breath in.

From there you did your usual clean up routine, which was mainly just Joel cleaning up and finding some way to lay with you after.

You watched his eyes and mouth and jaw as he quietly told you he loved you, his tone soothing enough to make your eyelids heavy.

“Happy Birthday, Joel,” you whispered; you felt his cheek push into your head and you imagined a smile. “Also I lied. There is cake in the fridge. Your favorite.”

“Mmkay, we’ll eat it for breakfast tomorrow.”

“What if I want you to eat me instead?”

“Ain’t that what I just said?”

[wildthyng]

My 2025 fic recs ❤️‍🔥🥂🎄

So this is a list of some of the many fics I’ve read this year.

First of all, HUGE shoutout to every writer legend tagged in this post, your fics have carried me through this year and inspired me beyond words. Your brains are magical, your works are gems, I read you and admire you all. Keep unleashing your brilliant, hot, deranged, heart-destroying ideas onto the world.✨

“Take on me”by CtrlAltThea (AO3) (joel miller x reader)

“Saddles, sunsets and second thoughts” /“Arrival” by @reedispunk (joel miller x reader)

“Work wife” by @albertasunrise (joel miller x reader)

“Are you ready to love me?” by @schnarfer (joel miller x reader)

“Coffee guitar” / “How to disappear” by @littledes1re (joel miller x reader)

“Win again” by @talaok (marcus acacius x reader)

“Hiraeth” by cherryaisscream (AO3) (joel miller x OFC)

“After the roar” / “Spoils of war” by @youthereader (marcus acacius x reader)

“Sedated” by hannibalsangel (AO3) (joel miller x reader)

“Family matters” / “That house in Nebraska” by @millermouth (joel miller x you x tommy miller) / (joel miller x reader)

“Almost yours” by @vintagevenus1111 (joel miller x reader)

“Lead me not into temptation” by @tateypots (joel miller x reader)

“The Farmer’s daughter” / “I know who you are” by @punkshort (marcus acacius x reader) (joel miller x reader)

“Then came you” / “Dirty little secret” by @pedroscurls (harry castillo x reader) (joel miller x reader)

“A haunted body” by @capuccinodoll (joel miller x reader)

“In his wrath she rises” by @joelswritingmistress (joel miller x reader)

“Fix me” by @lemon-ice-pops (joel miller x reader)

“The days of you and I” @stylesispunk (joel miller x reader)

“Amor meus aeternus” / “Two wrongs one right” / “Little bird in a cage” by @missadangel (marcus acacius x OFC) (joel miller x reader) (javier peña x reader)

“Feral” / “The nanny” by @mcthsman (joel miller x reader)

“Healed” by @whocaresstillthelouvre (joel miller x reader)

“Taste” / “Patrols” / “Orbit you” / “Two is better than one” by @pyronovas (joel miller x reader x tommy miller) (joel miller x reader)

“Code red” by @chaotic-mystery (joel miller x OC)

“Whiskey sour” / “ A litany of lethe” by @kiwisbell (joel miller x reader) (javier peña x reader)

“Long long time ” by @meet-me-backstage (joel miller x reader)

“Sunshine and apple pies” / “Loud mouth” “For a good time, call” by @millermami (joel miller x reader x tommy miller) (joel miller x reader)

“The quiet” / “The way he cares” / “The art of the deal” by @gothicpaperback (joel miller x reader) ( harry castillo x reader)

“Moanin’ and bitchin’ ” / “Daddy issues” by @aurorawritestoescape (joel miller x reader)

“Texas red” / “The cave” by @studioghibelli (joel miller x reader)

“Keep on your mean side” / “Bad girl” by @milla-frenchy & @aurorawritestoescape (joel miller x reader) (joel miller x reader x tommy miller)

“Can you see right through me?” by @theywereafairy (javier peña x reader)

“Sink your teeth in” by @preachersdaughter3 (joel miller x reader)

“Three’s a crowd” by @pearlessance (joel miller x reader x tommy miller)

“Cupid of Wyoming” / “Guns and roses” / “First date” / “Tangled in paradise” / “For the hour” by @joelsrose (joel miller x reader) (joel miller x reader x tommy miller)

“Erotica” by @whoevenisjavier (joel miller x reader)

“A strangers heart without a home” by @morning-star-joy (AO3) (joel miller x reader)

“A love meant to burn” by @divaofmads (joel miller x FOC)

“The moments in between” by @majestyeverlasting (joel miller x reader)

“No, I’m not in love” by @manuellawritesfiction (joel miller x reader)

“The giver” by @alexispunkkk (joel miller x reader x tommy miller)

And many many more that I couldn’t find but thank you all for the beautiful writing 🫶🏻✨

[ess-evo]

Make It Better

CW: Free Use, forced orgasm, overstimulation, tears, unprotected pinv, creampie, dirty talk, pussy slapping, degradation, praise, established relationship, aftercare

A/N: This is just some filthy fun. Also, as with my other drabbles, picture whichever Joel suits your fancy!

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, your feet gaining purchase of the end of the bed frame to shimmy yourself up the bed and away from him.

He narrowed his eyes, wrapping his hand around your hip and sliding you back toward him. You'd only managed to move a couple inches, but his cock sliding back into your pussy fully caused you to whimper.

"Thought ya said y'wanted this?" His eyes assessed your condition as he spoke. He knew that you were suffering, and it only made him harder. He loved when you gave him full control.

It wasn't often - the right conditions had to be met. He knew that you needed to feel rested, hydrated, and be in a very particular mood. The kind of mood where you wanted to escape your thoughts; where you needed him to just take over and fill you with anything other than worries.

Joel knew it was one of those days when he got home from work and you had already deep-cleaned the whole house, prepared dinner, and were searching for other areas of the house that you could organize.

Leaving dinner to get cold on the stove, he swooped you up, carried you to the bedroom, and asked, "y'want me t'make it better, honey?"

You'd nodded feverishly, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes as he leaned in to kiss you.

So now, three orgasms already wrung from you, you were equal parts desperate for relief and for more.

"Tell me you want this," he commanded with a deep voice and dark eyes. If you weren't so familiar with the teddy bear beneath the surface, you'd find him menacing.

His cock continued pushing in and out at an agonizingly slow pace as he waited for your response. The vibrator was pressed firmly to your clit. He told you that you had to keep it there or else he'd punish you.

Your head was fuzzy, and under normal circumstances, you'd find the idea of punishment from Joel arousing, but given your emotional state you knew that you'd become a sobbing mess if he was too rough with you.

"I'm waiting." His patience was sometimes more unsettling than when he was agitated.

You nodded your head, freeing a tear that had been sitting right on the cusp of your eyelid. Joel saw this and the corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly.

"Aw, baby," he cooed, reaching down to swipe the tear away with his thumb. "Need t'hear the words, mkay?"

"I-" you hiccuped a soft cry as you spoke, "I want this."

After a few years of dating, Joel was able to identify when you were bullshitting him and when you were being honest. He didn't like when you pushed yourself past your limits and didn't listen to your body. It had caused a couple arguments in the past, when Joel had realized that he really hurt you and you hadn't spoken up.

He knew you were being honest right now. He could feel it in the way your pussy choked his cock, sucking him in as far as it could.

"Ahhhh," you cried out as you felt your fourth orgasm building.

Your pussy squeezed him impossibly tight and he threw his head back. "Holy fuck," he moaned. "You're clamping down on me so fuckin' hard, baby."

The grip on your vibrator loosened slightly. You were trying to grant your swollen clit just a little reprieve.

"Don't fight it," Joel said as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. "you're not gonna stop 'til I've blown my load, y'hear?"

"Y-yes, Joel."

"Good girl."

His cock was ridiculously hard, it was almost painful. He could feel himself throbbing against your walls as you tightened around him. He was going to force you to hold that vibrator against your poor, aching clit until he came.

He wanted to hold out as long as possible, just to see how much you could take.

Your stomach tightened and you bit your lip as the pressure built. Your body became rigid and still as the orgasm grew to its peak and then washed over you.

Instead of moaning or whimpering, you screamed. It was so intense that you worried for a moment you might lose consciousness.

"Fuck yeah, give it t'me." He fucked you harder as your orgasm worked its way through.

You looked at him with hopeful eyes as you started to come down, thinking that he might finish soon. Those hopes were quickly dashed as you saw the smirk on his face.

"Y'thought I was gonna be done soon?" He laid his hand on top of yours, ensuring that you didn't move the vibrator as you started to come down.

The sensitivity was overwhelming and you started to beg him. "Please, Joel, baby, it's too much. Pl-please." Your body started to shake. All of your nerves were on fire, screaming with voices of their own, as the vibrator continued buzzing on your puffy clit.

Joel watched in awe as your body fought the sensations. He slowed down his thrusts, the most grace he was willing to offer you in the moment.

"You can do it, baby. Look atcha. Look so beautiful like this." His hand stroked your hair as he continued his slow thrusts.

He chuckled, "we're gonna run the battery outta that thing."

You shot him daggers with your eyes which only made him laugh more.

He moved his hand from yours and said, "you know the rules."

Your hand kept a hold on the vibrator, despite the fact that your fingertips were practically numb at this point.

When Joel was assured that you were okay and could take more, he channeled the dominant part of him - the part that wants to take, to ruin, to control.

"Gonna fuckin' ruin 'er," he muttered under his breath. He picked up his thrusts again. "Move it."

You removed the vibrator from your clit, allowing it to rest beside you on the bed. You weren't foolish enough to believe that he was doing it for your sake. You knew him better than that, especially when you caught a glimpse of just how dark his eyes were.

He raised his hand and slapped his palm down on your clit. You shrieked, your body jerking from him.

"She's mine." He slapped your pussy again. "'n I'm gonna do whatever," another slap, "the fuck," another slap, "I want to her."

"Ah, fuck! Joel!" You couldn't help but reach down and push his wrist away from you.

He smiled. He knew you'd let him do more, but he was taking some pity on you. "Put it back."

You obeyed, setting the vibrator against your clit again and squeezing your eyes shut with discomfort as you felt its relentless buzzing meet your aching clit.

"Fuckin' love how she squeezes me when I slap 'er." It felt so degrading for him to talk about your pussy. He hadn't acknowledged you for the past few minutes, only talking to and about your pussy. You felt like an object at his disposal. And it was just what you needed.

"She's mine whenever I want. Always ready to take whatever I'm gonna give." He gripped your thighs hard as he started to piston in and out of you. "Such a good lil hole. That's what y'are, right? My good lil hole?"

Tears were flowing out both of your eyes now. Despite feeling completely drained, your body was somehow working on another orgasm.

"Guess y'can't answer me, huh? Considerin' yer just a cocksleeve f'me." He gave a powerful thrust that caused you to yelp, the head of his cock bruising your cervix.

The coil was tightening again and Joel had the nerve to laugh.

"Can feel ya squeezin' me again, baby. Your poor body can't give up." He picked up the pace, trying to tilt you over the edge.

"Can't wait to drain my balls in your fuckin' cunt. Hurry up, whore. I wanna blow my load, and I ain't gonna do it unless yer squeezin' me tight."

His words brought you right to the edge, but the overstimulation was too big a barrier to let you fall over.

Joel's balls tightened, but he was able to stave off his orgasm. This wasn't his first rodeo, and it wouldn't be his last.

"Gotta empty these balls. Show me what you're good for. C'mon. Give it to me."

Once more, he brought you to the very edge, and then it was gone. You cried out. Real tears streaming down as you started to shake your head.

"Givin' up ain't an option, sweetheart. I could do this for another hour if I need to." He knew he couldn't, but the threat was enough to cause you to focus as hard as you could on releasing.

He saw you trying. He was close to his own release. "Useless slut," he said as he continued thrusting, "y'need help?"

"Y-yes," you were a whimpering mess beneath him and he fucking loved it.

He reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat, applying the perfect amount of pressure. You allowed your body to go slack, aside from the hand holding the vibrator to your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, legs draped off the end of the bed, as Joel used your body just how he needed.

It was pure bliss as your orgasm crested and worked its way through you. A wave of warmth and pleasure crashed down and you shook with the intensity.

Joel kept his hand on your throat, loosening slightly as he felt himself start to erupt inside of you.

"Ohhhh, fuckin' take it. That's it. Take my whole load, baby. Gonna take every, ahh, fuckin' drop." He pushed in as deep as he could, his body folding over your own as his spend coated your walls, pulsing against your deepest spots.

His balls were pressed firmly to your ass and you could feel them throb as he worked through his release.

Warm breath coated your neck, followed by soft kisses. His damp forehead rested against your jaw.

He reached between your bodies to remove the vibrator. Clicking it off, he cast it to the side.

He was careful when he pulled out of you, doing so slowly and gently. You hissed through your teeth as you felt him withdraw. Your whole body felt like it was throbbing and achy, but also satiated and relieved.

He crawled up above you, looping his arm under your back to drag you up to the pillows at the head of the bed.

Kissing your cheek, he said, "be back in a moment."

He returned with a glass of water, a warm washcloth, and your favorite cozy undies and one of his old t-shirts. He knew that you didn't like feeling exposed after sex, especially if it was rough.

He helped you get dressed, peppering nearly every inch of your body with soft kisses, careful to not stimulate you any further. He tilted the glass of water into your mouth, cleaning off the dribble on your chin with his thumb.

"C'mere," he spoke in his most gentle voice.

You curled up into him as he stroked your hair and whispered the sweetest things against your forehead. He mumbled about how much he loved you, how perfect you were, and how lucky he was to have you.

After a few minutes he checked in. "Y'wanna talk about what's goin' on?"

"No," you answered softly but honestly, "I'm better now."

Joel's smile took over his whole face. "Good, that was the goal." He kissed the crown of your head and wrapped his other arm around you, bringing you as close to him as he could.

Tagging folks who showed an interest: @mcthsman @jules6898 @ezraispunk

[millermouth]

Cherry Picker 🍒

summary: You'd survived twenty years without much thought for romance. But Jackson was safe, and safety had a way of making people act in strange ways—priorities change, rumors spread. Which happens to be how you uncover your patrol partner's best kept secret. || smut MDNI 18+ virginity loss, virginity kink, age gap (reader is 25, joel is in his 50s), jackson!joel, unnamed best friend, dual pov, drinking, nervous!reader, prudish!reader, virgin!reader, overthinking, swearing, pinv, kissing, like nasty kissing hell yeah, grinding, joel teaching you how to take 🍆, he talks you through it, f!receiving oral, handjob, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, joel refers to himself as daddy, some pussy pronouns used, Joel We'll-Make-It-Fit Miller || a/n: my fellow freaks will understand. is joel kind of a perv for this? suuuure. but it's hot and consensual so who cares :)

wc: 11k sry

You, now

Your hand was practically shaking off its hinges by the time you lifted your knuckles to the wooden door.

You blamed the freezing temperature as you gathered your courage. Just the cold. The porch light buzzed faintly overhead, casting a weak yellow ring around the doorframe. It made the wood look darker than usual, older. Maybe it had always looked like that. Maybe you were just seeing it differently tonight. You glanced down at your shoes. Snow was really caked around the rubber soles, slush seeping in through the canvas seams, dampening your socks. You weren’t entirely sure if you still had toes anymore; they were so numb. Just the cold, you told yourself again, that was why you were trembling so badly. Just the fact that Jackson’s first winter storm decided to roll in the exact same morning you decided to… well…

Adjusting your stance instead, you smoothed a wrinkle in your coat, then reached up, but dropped your hand again.

Ridiculous. You were acting absolutely ridiculous. It’s not like you were some lost kid on a stranger’s porch. You knew this man. You’d walked patrols with him, ate silent breakfasts across from him before said patrols at the mess hall, both of you always quiet with each other. A comfortable quiet you’d enjoyed, actually. And you’d been to his house before—once, last spring, when you’d offered to trade him the coffee beans some folks had passed through town with. In exchange, he’d carved you a little likeness of your favorite mare from the stables, sanded smooth and small enough to fit in your palm. You’d thanked him twice, though he’d just nodded once, gruff as ever. 

But that had been broad daylight. And this was… 

Before you could talk yourself out of it again, before you could check the stitch in your glove a third time or flatten the nonexistent wrinkle in your coat, you lifted your knuckles and quickly rapped on the door. 

Nothing happened. 

You supposed that was normal. It’s not like he’d be waiting on the other side of the door for you. He wasn’t expecting anyone, at least you’d hoped. So you stared at the grain in the wood, the little green wreath hanging there, memorizing the leaves and pine needles that decorated the braided branches, and then—

You heard the footsteps, quiet and shuffling, but heavy on the other side. Your stomach dipped as they grew closer. You knew the sound of them by heart, etched in your mind as the sound of safety. Camaraderie.  They followed behind you on trails, echoed in supply rooms, paused beside you at the watch post just before he would offer you the last thermos of coffee.

Your mouth was dry. You licked your bottom lip without thinking and immediately cursed at yourself—chapped. You’d forgotten balm. You never forgot your lip balm.

The footsteps stopped just on the other side.

You held your breath.

You, before

It had started—as many bad ideas do—in the Tipsy Bison one Friday night. 

The place was humming with music and chatter, the lowlights of sconces bringing an amber warmth to every surface. Someone was playing a Fleetwood Mac song on their acoustic guitar, a gentle strumming meeting your ears across the way. A couple men just off patrol were clinking pints a little half-heartedly after a long day out in the early winter frost at the bar. Someone had lit a fire in the hearth, a loud crackle punctuating the room now and again, and you could feel the heat rising in soft waves against your back from where you sat.

And beside you, smug as ever with a grin on her lips, cheeks flushed from her whiskey sour, was your best friend. Her glass was sweating onto the wooden table beside her, and her fingers tapped lightly against the rim as she watched you. 

You knew that look. You had a complicated relationship with that look. Secrets, trouble, you name it. Whenever she had a drink or two in her and she looked at you like that, you knew something was afoot. And usually it involved her over-interest in your love life. Or… lack thereof.

“I’m just saying,” she drawled, dragging her words out with that infuriating mix of innocence and glee, “if you’re so worried about it being awkward the first time, there are options. Experienced options.”

You made a face, tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan, already regretting letting her steer the conversation this way. “Like who? There isn’t exactly a whole sea of fish to choose from here. Half these people are partnered up and have kids now. And I swear, these guys born during the outbreak have zero game. ”

She let out a cackle. “Uh-huh. Like little five-year-old you really learned anything before the world went to shit.”

“Okay, fine. Enlighten me, oh wise one.” You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, lilting up, amused. 

She leaned in, elbow creaking against the table, voice suddenly lower. “Do you know who took mine?”

You tensed. “Oh my god. Please don’t do this to me. I don’t want to know, I really—”

“Joel Miller.”

You nearly choked. You did choke, actually, spluttering on the air you’d inhaled, spit gone down the wrong lung. A few people around you turned to glance in concern as your hand went to cover your open mouth. “What!?”

She grinned wide, completely unbothered. “Don’t get all worked up! He’s hot.”

“Joel?” you hissed, voice already pitching with disbelief. “My Joel—but he’s—he’s my…he’s my patrol partner!”

“Your grumpy, brooding, carved-from-stone, sexy patrol partner,” she corrected smoothly, nodding. “Yep. That one. It was a little over a year ago, I was still kinda new to town. I don’t even remember how it started. But it’s like… a thing,” she insisted, her voice dropping again as she scanned the room conspiratorily. “His thing. He’s like Jackson’s Cherry Picker.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

She nodded, lips twitching around the rim of her glass. “I’m serious. I’d heard rumors, okay? I was so desperate to get rid of this… this thing that made me feel like I had a target on my back. Like hello! Town virgin over here!” she laughed as you covered her ever-growing loud mouth, and she quieted down, waving you off, “and then one girl told me he’d done the favor for her and her friend. I don’t know. He was really sweet though. He did this thing with his tongue and—”

You slapped your hands over your ears. “Oh my god, stop, I don’t want to hear any more—”

She laughed loudly and downed her drink, “Okay, miss prude. I’m just sayin’, if you could choose anyone, I’d go with him. Haven’t you ever wondered? Haven’t you guys gotten stuck out there together and had to cuddle up real close, and oh no, there was only one bed!”

You rolled your eyes, “Actually, we tend to be just fine thank you. Joel takes good care of us if we’re—”

She was grinning, teeth gleaming, her brows doing a ridiculous little dance.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, tossing a napkin at her across the table, trying to ignore the way your heart was thudding just a little faster than before.

Because the truth was—yes. 

You had wondered.

You, now

And then, the door was opening. 

A thick hand appeared first, resting on the wood as it pulled inward. The rest of him followed a beat later, somehow even broader, taller than you remembered. Barefoot, in sweatpants and a flannel sleep shirt that hung open at the collar. His hair was mussed like he’d just come from rest, or something close to it. It felt too intimate. 

“Mr. Miller—” you started, and immediately winced. “Joel. Hi. I—sorry, maybe this was… I might’ve picked a bad time.”

“S’alright, darlin’,” he said, voice low, rough from disuse. “Took me by surprise is all. What can I do for ya?”

You opened your mouth and promptly forgot how to speak.

Because how the hell were you supposed to explain this? That your best friend had told you between giggles and sips of her second whiskey about the favor he offered. That there were girls, maybe a few, maybe more than a few, who’d come before you for the same thing. That you were here asking for something he offered unbeknownst to most, passed along in rumors and blushing confessions. Never outwardly known or spoken of, but something only understood by the women who’d needed it once. Was it only once? And what did that make them to him, exactly? They weren’t partners, that much was clear. Not flings, either, at least you didn’t think so. He never talked about having partners or girlfriends. He probably wouldn’t even if given the chance. 

You wondered if he remembered them individually, or if they blurred together to him. God, what if he thought of them like a collection—trophies he’d caught and taken first place, people he’d…he’d conquered? What would it mean for your relationship going forward? The patrols that were usually comfortable and easy, would they be suddenly full of awkward silences, or worse, would he refuse to patrol with you at all?

There was a little smile spreading across his face at how god damn red you must’ve been turning. 

“S’a bit cold out there, ain’t it? All this snow.” he said, looking around outside, hazel eyes gleaming in the soft light, “Why don’t you come on in.” he offered, opening the door wider, spreading his hand out welcomingly into his abode. 

“Okay,” you barely managed.

Stepping inside, you felt more like an intruder than ever. The warmth hit you first, thick with the smell of firewood and something faintly herbal in the air. The hearth was already going, the flames crackling in a steady rhythm, casting deep shadows across the living room. A pair of reading glasses sat neatly on top of a copy of An Idiot’s Guide to Space on the side table, the title catching the light just enough to be legible.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Joel said, voice low and even, his hand brushing lightly against your back as he guided you forward. “I’ll get ya somethin’ to drink.”

You nodded but couldn’t speak, your mouth still dry, throat tight. Your body moved before your thoughts could catch up, sinking onto the couch opposite his recliner. The cushions gave easily beneath you, soft and lived in. The heat of the fire reached your skin slowly, unthawing your face, your toes, the stiffness along your spine that hadn’t unclenched since you’d stepped onto his porch. You took your time peeling off your gloves and setting them aside, pins and needles prickling the tips of them as they warmed beside the heat.

He returned a minute later, though you didn’t notice him right away—your eyes fixed on the fire, the way it danced behind the grate, and your mind had gone thin and fast with thoughts you couldn’t quite hold down. You startled only slightly when he appeared beside you and set the mug into your hands. It was tan, with a little owl stamped on the front. You stared at it for a long moment before lifting it to your mouth. Lemon and honey with a sprig of cinnamon. Your  favorite. 

You swallowed the first sip slowly, letting it move through you, letting the heat settle low in your stomach like you could track its path through every nerve. You tried to focus on that instead of everything else.

Across from you, Joel groaned softly as he eased into his chair. It wasn’t reclined now as he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, mug balanced in both hands as he took a sip.

“Everythin’ okay?” he asked, eyes on you now.

“What?” you squeaked, then cleared your throat before continuing, “Oh, yeah, yeah, everything is fine.”

He kept looking at you, quiet, and you worried you’d turn red again before he lowered his gaze to the tea in his hands and gave a small nod, like he didn’t fully believe you but wasn’t going to press. “You just seem a little nervous, is all. Somethin’ happen?”

You shook your head and turned away, not wanting to meet his eyes. The lemon peel floated in a lazy spiral near the rim of your cup, and the rising steam pressed gently against your face, a kind of soft shield between you and whatever came next. You still held yourself stiffly, spine straight, shoulders squared like you were bracing for something, though you kept reminding yourself there was no reason to. This was Joel. You’d spent more time with him out of anyone, even your own best friend. You knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was a good man.

You took another sip. Then another.

“I just…” you began, the words thick in your throat. You exhaled, tried again. “I heard a rumor.”

Joel let out a short huff of amusement, his shoulders shifting as he leaned back more comfortably into the chair. “Oh yeah? What’s goin’ around the rumor mill these days?”

You watched him settle in, the way his hands stayed on the mug even as he relaxed. For a second, you wondered if he’d actually been worried. If he thought something had happened to you. If he’d been ready to help.

“It’s probably nothing,” you said quickly. “Just… something someone mentioned.”

He didn’t say anything.

You glanced up, half-hoping he’d read your mind. Maybe he’d say it first. Maybe he’d change the subject entirely and save you from the humiliation of asking him to take your virginity. But no, he was still watching you, still waiting, his face calm, unreadable in the firelight.

You looked away again.

“I guess I just—I heard that you… help people. Sometimes.”

There was a pause, only joined by a quiet sound as he set his mug down. You heard the shift of fabric, the creak of the recliner beneath him. When you looked up again, he’d settled back, legs spread slightly, one hand resting on the arm of the chair. Still composed, still listening.

“Help how?” he asked, but the tone had changed, lower now. Softer, careful and measured. Like he was giving you the space to choose your words. Like he already knew which ones were coming. He must’ve known, after all. He had to. Maybe he wanted to see you squirm.

You swallowed.

“Girls,” you said, and your voice nearly cracked, not from emotion but from how tightly you were holding yourself together. “Women, I mean. I heard that sometimes, if someone’s… nervous, or if it’s their… that you’re… that you’ve helped.”

There. It was out, more or less. Maybe a few words left unsaid, but it was there now, between you. A live wire, humming, waiting.

Joel didn’t lean back, didn’t shift, didn’t even glance away. He was just staring at you, barely blinking or moving. And then, after a long enough pause that you nearly opened your mouth again just to fill it, he spoke.

“Are you askin’ me somethin’, darlin’?”

You swallowed again, willing your courage, forcing the up and down of your head, nodding at him, eyes glued to his face, watching his expression. 

“I’m gonna need to hear you say it,” he told you, softly and without judgement, “And then we can talk about it.”

You set the mug down with careful hands, fingers lingering along the rim like they weren’t quite ready to let go. Your palms found each other in your lap, squeezing once, then flattening against your thighs. Courage, you told yourself. Be brave. You were twenty-five, for God’s sake. Frontal lobe fully developed, capable of decision-making, of risk, of owning the weight of your own choices. You’d killed infected, harvested crops, patched up fences, pulled your weight in every way that counted in Jackson. You’d grown up out of necessity, carried yourself through the years without needing anyone to hold your hand.

This shouldn’t have to be so hard. But it was. And still…this was the moment. You could feel it waiting there in the silence between you.

So you sat up a little straighter. Pressed your palms into your legs, just for the feeling of grounding, and tried to be brave.

“I’m asking you to take my virginity, Joel.” 

You did your best to sound determined, sure of yourself, some small reserve of confidence rising as you looked at him, eyes locked on his face. You furrowed your brow to keep yourself from faltering, zipped your mouth shut to keep yourself from over-explaining, even though every part of you wanted to fill the silence. But the plain and simple truth of it laid bare between you now. 

After a long moment of sitting there like that, the two of you watching each other carefully, he finally spoke.

“Why?”

The question caught you off guard. Your face faltered, your fingers tightened against your thighs, unsure you’d heard him right.

“W–Why?”

He nodded, very serious now. 

You hesitated. “Because… don’t you? I heard you… you do this thing. For women.”

“But why do you want it?”

Your face burned. You weren’t sure if it was the fire in the hearth or the question or how quiet the room had gotten now, but suddenly you could feel the heat rising into your scalp, behind your ears, into the hollows of your throat. Your fingers were tangled in your lap again, squeezing one hand with the other like you could press the answer into your skin.

You sat up a little straighter, and let your hands fall still once again. Brave. Be brave. 

“Because I don’t want it to be careless,” you said, “I don’t want it to feel like something I just let happen. And I don’t want to be with someone who only cares about what they’re getting out of it.”

You looked at him then, made yourself hold his gaze.

“I’ve waited a long time. And it hasn’t really been on purpose, but now that I’m here, I don’t want it to be meaningless. I want it to feel… like I chose it. Like I chose the right person.”

You felt your chest tighten. Your heart wouldn’t stop moving around inside you like it was trying to warn you of something, but it was too late for that.

“I trust you,” you said, quieter now, the truest thing you’ve ever said. “I think I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”

Joel let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like it had been sitting on his chest this whole time. He looked away from you then, toward the fireplace, the orange glow flickering against the lines in his face. One hand rubbed slowly against his knee, the heel of his palm dragging in a steady circle, over and over, like it helped him sort through whatever was moving behind his eyes.

You didn’t dare say anything.

You watched him, studied him. He was so handsome, after all. And something had changed, not that he had, not really. He was the same man who walked beside you on patrols, who shared granola bars and poured your coffee before his own. He checked your boots before a long route. Adjusted your gaiter once without asking, gloved fingers gentle against your jaw. You’d always chalked these things up to kindness, to the sort of responsibility a man like Joel Miller shouldered without complaint. But now, sitting here in his home, the fire warming your skin and the tension curling thick between you, you didn’t know how you’d ever seen them as simple gestures.

Your eyes traced the slope of his nose, the graying in his beard, how his hair had grown longer this winter and streaked with more silver. His thick fingers moved slowly against the fabric of his sweatpants, flexing, working some silent thought through his palm. You remembered those hands—gripping the handle of his revolver, steady and unshakable. Reaching back to stop you short with a firm grip at your elbow. Pushing you behind him when an infected got too close, machete already raised in his other hand, swinging hard through mold-thick bone. He’d protected you more times than you could count. And it had always felt… safe. Never like a performance. He didn’t ask for gratitude. He just... did it.

And then a thought struck you again, unwelcome, as you watched him—what if he said no? Could things ever go back to the way they were before? This was a line, a big one that you were crossing now. You didn’t know how to take it back, not now that you’d looked him in the eye and asked for something you’d barely ever admit to yourself was a want, not a need. You weren’t sure what you’d done, only that there was no coming back now. 

You weren’t afraid of him. But you were afraid of what this all meant, how different it felt now that he knew.

But still, you wouldn’t look away.

He sat there for a long time, staring into the fire. And then finally, he turned back to you. His eyes found yours, steady, clear.

“Okay,” he said.

Joel, now

Joel didn’t have very many rules left that he hadn’t broken.

He’d repented for his sins, said his sorries—more or less—and moved on. He knew there were still notches on his soul, marks he’d carry to the grave, but he held fast to a few rules he’d made for himself, lines he’d drawn in the sand and did his damndest not to step over. He liked what he did, took a special liking to the women who came to him, nervous, wide-eyed, asking for something they didn’t want to get from someone careless. It was never more than they bargained for, never more than they asked for. But he still enjoyed it.

He was open to just about anyone that came around, regardless if they were twenty or fifty, as long as they asked kindly and seemed like they were doing it for a reason that made sense. Not that it really mattered—if they were offering, he was taking. And he loved to take. Selfish, he knew that about himself by now. And still, he loved it.

But here he was, crossing the last line he’d drawn a few springs back, back when he first met you in Jackson.

You were the exception. Always.

From the beginning, he’d known he wouldn’t touch you, not in that way. No matter how much he wanted to. And he did, God, he did. Dreamed of you, thought of you, let his mind go places it shouldn’t, wondered how you’d taste, how you’d sound, what you'd look like beneath him. And on the nights when patrol took too long, when you had to share a tent or squeeze into the corner of some half-collapsed building, curled up together in the cold, your breath ghosting against his neck—he’d nearly lose his mind with your closeness and sweet scent. 

He wouldn’t take from you. He told himself you were off limits. You were so sweet, so good. He didn’t even realize you were a virgin, truth be told. And it sure didn’t help the way you were mustering up your courage in front of him, all doe eyed and nervous and trusting. But no, Joel never wanted to take this from you. Or anything, for that matter. All he ever wanted was to give. He always gave you the last sip of water or coffee, the last strip of jerky and the better seat when the fire got too smokey. He even made you that little horse out of pine because you kept choosing her for patrols, and you’d wept when it was her last ride before her retirement. He liked doing things like that for you. Liked to give. He would not take.

Joel would see you around with your best friend—hell, he’d picked her, when she came asking. She took as she wanted and went on her way, same as the rest. He saw you hanging around Jesse too, and that’s when he really had to keep himself in check. But when he brought it up one day, asked about it quietly on the trail, you’d brushed him off. You’d told him Jesse wasn’t your type. Joel remembered the way something small and mean and smug had sparked in his chest when you said it, right before the bigger wave of guilt rolled in. 

But here you were now. 

Looking like that. Fidgeting like hell, eyes darting around, nervous in a way he’d never seen before. It rattled him when you’d appeared on his porch. His first thought had been that someone hurt you. That something bad had happened. He was already halfway to grabbing the shovel by the door, ready to ask where the body was. Anything you asked, he’d do it. He knew he would. No question. 

And then you’d come out with the real reason you were here. 

It took you some coaxing, sure, you were nervous and trembling like a trapped fawn in a wolf’s maw. And once the words were out his blood surged before he could control himself. He had to breathe, distract himself, try to collect his thoughts and put them into neat little boxes before the wrong one burst open and he scared you off. He needed to be careful. He needed to think about what it would mean to break that last rule. If it would ruin what the two of you had, if you would look at him differently. If you’d regret it. 

But the truth was already there, pounding its way through his chest. He’d known the second you said the words that he didn’t give two shits about those rules. 

That was the last clear thought he had before he turned to you and said, “Okay.”

He watched your eyes widen, watched your tongue sweep across your bottom lip, and the last thread of his control nearly split just then.

“Okay?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, lifted his hand, palm up, a quiet invitation.

You hesitated, only for a second, then stood with that same purposeful grace you always carried when you moved ahead on a patrol. Not rushed or uncertain. Chosen. Like your feet knew where to go before your head did. You crossed the room slowly, your breath held, and when your soft hand found his, it was like some invisible thread finally went taut.

Joel tugged you gently between his knees, both of your hands in his. He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure this part was real. The warmth of you so close, the gentle weight of your fingers resting in his, how your fingers still trembled.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breathless, quiet. He needed to be soft and gentle, your sweet face so pretty with how it was looking at him now, sure of yourself, but still nervous. 

You nodded, your thumbs tracing the thick of his knuckles. It made his skin pebble in goosebumps. 

“Usually when someone asks,” he murmured, “I make ‘em wait.”

He had to get through this part. Had to muzzle himself back into control, to know for certain. As much as he wanted to take, he would be good for you. For you, for you. Always for you. Like prayer, like penance, like something sacred in his keeping.

“Why?” you asked, quiet as a mouse, your brows furrowing. You really were adorable. Sweet enough to eat.

“To make sure they ain’t ovulatin’,” he said, and the line was meant to tease, but his voice came out tighter than he wanted. “Don’t need any mini-Joels walkin’ around, do we?”

He tried to smile, but thought it probably looked more like a leer, animal in the way his teeth shown in the firelight. 

Oh, was all you seemed to manage. 

Joel exhaled slow, like he could let some of the heat in him go that way, like he hadn’t just undone every restraint he’d spent years building. His hands slid up your arms, slow and steady, your sweater sleeves in the way. He wanted to feel you, your skin, your heat. He’d make himself wait.

“Don’t think I can do that with you, though,” he said, voice gone quiet again, “Been waitin’ a long time for this, baby.”

Your gaze flicked to his, searching. “You have?”

He nodded, “Christ, it’s all I’ve ever thought about.”

There was a long moment of quiet, of only the crack of the fire. As if waiting. Both of you, waiting for the other, held in the suspended moment before everything changed.

“I think about you too.” you confessed then, “All the time, Joel.”

The leash on the beast in him flew from his hands, and he was squeezing your arms harder, pulling you down into his lap. You yelped at the sudden movement, and it made him force himself to soften again, coaxing, to be gentle with his hands. He smoothed them up and down your arms, though the closeness of your thighs bracketing his turned his brain to mush. 

“I’m sorry, don't be scared, I’m sorry,” Gentle, be gentle, he scolded himself, “It’s just…you think about me, huh?” He cooed. “What do you think about, baby?”

You were nibbling at your lip again, eyes flicking down like you didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you’d said it aloud. He caught your hands and pulled them to his chest, pressing them flat so you could feel the thud of his heart beneath your palms.

“You can touch me, darlin’,” he said, almost a whisper. “It’s okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, wordlessly, eyes eager in their nervousness.

His hand reached up, careful, and brushed a piece of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear, taking his time.

“So tell me,” he said again, “what you think about.”

Your voice came soft and certain. “Kissing you.”

His breath faltered, fingers twitching against your cheek, forcing them down and to settle on your hips. Something deep in his chest raged against his ribs  to be let out—this was the night, he was sure of it now, the night he finally snapped, lost every inch of control he’d ever clung to. He might go insane with you, here, in his lap, telling him about your dreams, your wants, your desires for him. 

“Do you wanna kiss me now?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

“Before you do,” he said, hands squeezing, “we need to talk.”

Your face shifted, the subtle kind of worry that made you look child-like, almost scolded. He saw your shoulders inch up like you were bracing for a lecture, and he hated that. He slid his thumbs under the hem of your sweater instead, just enough to brush the warm skin of your waist, soothing whatever tension lie beneath the surface.

“Have ya ever done anythin' before?” he asked, dipping his head slightly, trying to catch your eye. When you met his gaze, you shrugged, sheepish.

“I’ve kissed a boy before. Not like…” You sighed, glanced off to the side. “Not like with tongue or anything. And it was a dare.”

Joel chuckled at that, “A dare, huh?” 

You gave him a mock glare, your nose wrinkling in protest. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Never,” he murmured, the smile still tugging at the edge of his mouth. He let the air settle for a second, then took another breath, slower this time. 

“You’re gonna need to tell me when somethin’ don’t feel good. When you want me to stop, alright?” He watched you closely now, his thumbs still rubbing careful, slow lines against your skin. “Pick a word that means stop. Don’t matter what it is, but you say it, and everything stops. We talk, figure it out. You won’t be in trouble, I just need to know you’re okay.”

You opened your mouth like you were about to argue, and he could see the protest already brewing, the way your brows pulled together, the way your lip started to tuck between your teeth.

“I don’t want you to stop just because—I know, er—-I’ve heard it hurts, a little, the first time,” you said, your voice quiet, almost defensive.

He shook his head gently. “It’s not about that,” he said. “This ain’t for little discomfort. I know you’re tough, I know you can handle that. But this—” he softened his voice again, “this is for if somethin’ don’t feel right in your gut. If you change your mind, or I do somethin’ you don’t like. You don’t owe me anythin’, you understand? I ain’t gonna be mad.”

Your teeth were worrying your lip again, eyes darting like you were thinking hard, weighing something heavy. He watched it all and felt the pull in his chest that came from how goddamn much he wanted to reach up and kiss the thought right out of your head. But this came first. You deserved this part too.

After a moment, you nodded. “Okay. Okay… what about… pickleback?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Like the shot?”

You nodded again, smiling this time, your eyes downturned. “I love them.”

Joel huffed a low laugh. That smile…it had his belly doing flips like some kid. You were so sweet and shy, like you didn’t know what it did to him.

“Alright then,” he said, brushing his hands up your waist again, savoring the heat of your skin, the way you felt under his hands, “Pickleback it is.”

And god, you were so warm. He took a long breath through his nose, collecting himself, trying to keep his thoughts grounded instead of letting them scatter into the fire like ash.

“Alright,” he said softly, almost to himself. “C’mere, baby.”

One of his hands abandoned the skin beneath your sweater to slide up your spine, tracing each vertebrae to the base of your neck, just under the edge of your hair, and he felt the tremble in your body like a secret only he got to keep. Your eyes were so wide, mouth parted like you were bracing for something. But you didn’t look scared. Just... expectant. Waiting. Brave.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing yours, and his breath was warm when it hit your cheek.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said softly, his thumb brushing under your jaw. “And I want you to relax. Don’t worry about what you’re s’posed to do. You don’t have to do a thing, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You nodded, breath hitching just a little, and he waited until he felt the tiny flex of your fingers on his chest like you were anchoring yourself there.

Then he kissed you.

He pressed his mouth to yours with a slow, aching tenderness, just warmth and patience and the softness of your lips beneath his. He felt you gasp, just a little, and he moved slow as molasses, letting you settle into it. His hand at your neck stayed firm, thumb stroking over your jaw. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d imagined this moment until now, until your mouth pressed harder against his, until your hands were sliding up to grip at his collar as if you didn’t want him going anywhere. 

He pulled back then, a fraction, close enough that you were still breathing his air.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded again, lips a little wet, your eyes flicking down to his mouth, and Joel felt something in his chest cave.

“Good girl,” he said under his breath. “Let’s try that again.”

​​And he kissed you a second time, this one deeper, more certain—his lips parting slightly, coaxing you to follow. When your mouth opened under his, he groaned softly, chest tightening. You tasted sweet, like honey and lemon from the tea, and something else too. Something that was just you. Your hands gripped his hair now, fingers curling tight at the nape. He felt your tongue poke out between your lips, discovering and curious, and he met it with his own. You squeaked a little at that, and he couldn’t help but smile, pulling away once again. 

“Gimme your tongue, baby, let me see your tongue,” he coaxed, fingers tightening in your hair. 

You did as you were told, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out at him. He couldn’t help but smile at you with fondness. “Relax, like this,” he murmured, showing you how, his own tongue flat in his mouth, patient. You mirrored him, and he reached up, licking at your waiting tongue, honey and lemon and cinnamon and a burn of desire filling his mouth, making it water, his stomach clench.

You let out the softest sound, a little hum deep in your chest, and Joel answered before he even thought about it. He wrapped his lips around your tongue, pulling just slightly: gentle, savoring you. Your eyes shuttered closed, sighing into him, your hips rocking involuntarily. He felt, beneath layers of clothing, a little pulse between your legs. 

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she, darlin’?” Joel asked when he pulled away again.

“You—” your voice was hoarse, almost drunk with desire, licking your lips, “you could feel that?”

He nodded, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Can you feel me?” he asked, quieter now. “Feel how much I want you?”

You nodded, cheeks heating, “I like it.”

Joel didn’t wait. He kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, and you melted into him with confidence. Your arms looped around his neck, your breasts pressing to his chest beneath your sweater, body giving into him. His hands slipped beneath your top again, finding your skin, your back warm and smooth beneath his palms. He pulled you in closer, like you weren’t close enough already. He thought he could kiss you for hours. He thought he might go insane if he couldn’t. 

And between the moans and whimpers, you murmured to him between a kiss.

“Can I have your tongue, Joel? Please?”

Joel’s brain was so scrambled, monopolized by desire, that he did as he was told before he could think. And then his brain really did snap in half as your lips sealed around his tongue, and you suckled on the muscle, moaning, tasting, wanting. 

Joel groaned loudly, eyes rolling to the back of his skull, his hands beginning to dig into your skin. He needed you closer, closer. 

And when you released your gentle hold of him, lips connected again for another kiss, he was dragging your hips against him harder, sawing your little center across his thickening length beneath his sweatpants. It just wasn’t enough, not nearly as close as he needed you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, kissing you harder, unable to take anymore, “fuck, baby, you’re killin’ me, grind on my cock some more, it feels so damn good, little thing wants me bad, huh?”

You gasped at his dirty mouth, but he couldn’t help himself, he was gone. Lost to it, hungry, hungrier than he thought he’d ever been for anything. All Joel could think about now was your pulsing, wet, puffy cunt beneath your clothes. How it would feel to not take, but give. And he’d give it to you so damn good. 

You pushed your hips down, and he guided you, hands back on your hips, pushing and sawing you on top of him. It was damn near heaven, friction and heat, everything he’d wanted. 

“Take this off, baby, please, is that okay?” he asked, pulling at your sweater. 

You were already moving, hasty, as undone as he was, both of you chasing the same edge. The fabric came over your head with shaking fingers, and suddenly you were bare in front of him, breathing hard, flushed all over. No bra. So that was it. The final nail in his coffin. The quiet, damning proof that you hadn’t just come over hoping he’d give you what you wanted—you’d known he would.

You’d decided. You’d trusted him. You’d made up your mind long before he opened the door.

“Joel,” you murmured, shirt off. 

He was staring. He knew he was staring. His brain was blank, white space as his mouth parted. His eyes drank you in like he’d never seen anything more perfect. He wasn’t sure he ever had, truth be told. 

As he shook his head to unscramble the thoughts, he heard his voice from far away: “Yeah, baby?” 

“I think I might go insane,” you said, your voice so soft it was almost a confession. “I feel—”

You wrapped your arms around yourself suddenly, like you needed to hold it all in, covering yourself, pushing your breasts together, fingers brushing your throat, your eyes darting away as if you didn’t know where to land.

He forced himself back to the present, maybe he’d been too quick, too forceful, too willing to give over all control to the beast in him that wanted so badly it made him blind. “What is it? Are you okay?”

You nodded—then shook your head, “I want you so bad I think I might…It hurts, Joel. I might cry if you don’t do something.”

Joel’s hands came up to your face, palms warm against your jaw, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth. Your bare chest pressed to his shirt, burning him through the cotton. His breath stuttered in his throat.

“Don’t cry, hunny,” he murmured, kissing the tip of your nose, nuzzling into your cheek, “don’t cry, daddy is here, daddy is gonna take care of you. I want you so bad, just wanna take it slow for ya, is all.”

You were gripping his arms, rocking your hips harder, chasing that friction in his lap. Joel forced himself to keep his eyes open on you, as much as they wanted to roll back into his head again. Everything just felt so damn good when it came to you. He clenched his jaw, his hands anchored on you, guiding you. 

“I need more,” you whined, breath hot against his neck. 

“Okay, okay, what about this?” he said, voice rough with restraint, though he was smiling a bit.  He lowered his head to your chest, kissing your clavicle, licking a broad stripe between the valley of your breasts. So heavy and pretty, his for the taking. His mouth closed over one nipple, tongue flattening against it, and you gasped, arching into him like your body knew what to do before your mind caught up. Your fingers dove into his hair, tangling, tugging, your body trembling against his.

He sucked and pulled and bit on your pert nipple, inhaling your perfume, the smell of the hearth, the heat of your skin. Everything was a blur of a dream and reality, his memories of his fist around his cock just thinking of you like this mixing with the reality of it happening here and now. 

He was going insane. That was the plain truth.

He kissed up your neck again, tongue flat against your skin as he licked and nibbled his way to your jaw. Your sweet little moans filled his lungs, breathless sighs spilling out against his cheek, feeding something wild in him. He wrapped his arms beneath you and lifted you with ease, and you giggled as your legs locked around his waist, clinging tight while he started toward the hallway.

“No, no,” you whined, petulant, “want to do it here, in front of the fire,” 

“S’not right, baby,” he muttered, the sound breaking as he groaned and held you aloft, looking up at you, “should take you in the bed, where you’ll be comfortable.”

But you shook your head, tugged his hair, eyes wide and pleading, still shining with that sex drunk look in them. “Want you here,” you said again. “It’s warm… and it’s nice in here.”

“Alright,” he breathed, giving in without a fight. You were kissing him before he even settled you back down, greedy wet mouth pressing up into his, your arms wrapping tight around his neck. He lowered you onto the couch, eased you onto your back, and your legs opened for him, letting him into the cradle of you. You moaned as he pressed down into you, grinding slow and teasing.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, lips wandering lower again, down your throat, your collarbone. He kissed everywhere, licked and tasted, needing to map every inch of your skin. “Gonna take these off now,” he said, gaze flicking up to meet yours as his fingers slipped under your waistband. “That okay?”

You nodded, chest heaving, lips parted and kiss bitten.

“Words, baby, let me hear your pretty voice too.”

“Yes, please—please,”

“Atta girl,” he praised, and it rumbled deep in his chest. He began pulling your layers off, slowly, gently. Socks went first, plucked only with his forefinger and thumb, and he kissed the insole of your foot, his hand covering your frozen toes to warm them. He pulled off the rest, unwrapping his gift. His jaw nearly unhinged at the sight of you laid bare in front of him. He dragged his palms along your thighs, taking in the sight before him. Glistening, puffy, nearly dripping onto his sofa in front of him. You pretty pussy just waiting for him to devour. He could feel his cock answer in earnest, twitching, pre cum dribbling down the inseam of his thigh. 

“Oh, hunny,” he sighed, leaning the side of his head on your propped up knee, bringing you closer, dragging you up before him so he could get a better look. It felt like he might’ve started drooling, completely entranced by the way your perfect pussy clenched on nothing, begging for something that wasn’t there yet. Torture, that’s what it was, to leave her untouched this entire night.

“Are you going to…to touch me?” he heard you ask, so fragile and yet so brave. He looked up at you then, and watched, enamored, at your sweet face, your nervous eyes that were heavy lidded. 

“You want me to?”

You nodded vigorously, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder, pulling him closer. Suddenly so confident in your want for him. 

He took your leg, kissed the inside of your calf, then bit into the meat of it in a playful little warning. You yelped, giggled, and kicked him lightly in the chest. “Bad,” he scolded, though there wasn’t a trace of real reprimand in his voice.

“You’re taking so lonngggg,” you whined, dramatic.

“Let me savor this,” he said playfully, kissing your skin again, warm mouth against warmer flesh, the heat of the two of you seeping into ever pore. He moved slowly, lips pressing, tongue tasting, his beard dragging in little teasing strokes along your thigh that made your skin pebble. He took his time climbing the soft inside of your legs, and he could feel you trembling, tightening in anticipation.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he stopped to stare, because the firelight had turned you into something unreal. Glistening, soft, swollen with want. The smell rising from you was honey and sweat and something sweetly feral, and it pulled at him like gravity. He laid one hand gently over your pubic bone, the other hooking under your thigh to pull you closer, closer, until you couldn’t move away even if you wanted. He leaned in and blew across your glistening folds. 

You whined, hips jerking in his hold. “Hurts, Joel,” you whimpered.

“What does, baby?” he asked softly, voice teasing at the edges. “This?” He blew again, gentle and warm, and your puffy pussy twitched in response.

You shook your head, “Waiting—it hurts, she wants you. I want you.” 

She. As if his brain wasn’t already scrambled enough, you were using pronouns for your sweet, velvet keep. He felt his pulse pounding in his fingertips. Humming in a sort of understanding, he lowered his head. 

“Might feel a little weird, okay? You ever touch yourself before, hunny?” He asked.

You nodded, nibbling on the nails of your right hand. He kissed the top of your mound, eyes on your sweet face. “Have you ever had an orgasm before?”

“Yes,” you sighed, eyes beginning to close as he kissed along your soft thatch of curls. 

Joel let out a deep breath, reverent in his hunger, the sound shaking through his chest. He lowered his face until the bridge of his nose rested just above your entrance. He knew he was torturing you, stringing you along like this. But what if this was the only time he ever got to touch you like this? Every other woman had come to him once and left satisfied, done with him. If they returned, he always turned them away, told them he wasn’t built for more than the favor he gave. But you… you were different. He wanted to keep this. To savor this.

He wanted to remember how you looked right now for the rest of his life.

“S’gonna feel a little different,” he promised, voice rough as gravel. “But daddy’ll make it feel good. I promise.”

“Okay,” you breathed, reaching down to pet your fingers through his hair. The moment your nails scraped lightly against his scalp, another sound rumbled out of him, low and almost pleased enough to be a purr.

He could no longer deny you. He could no longer deny her. If he held himself back another second, he didn’t think he’d survive it. And he’d never be able to call himself a good man again if he dragged out this torture.

He started slow, a kiss to your little pearl, and it pulsed between his lips when he kissed again, suckling gently, your soft whines and breathy sighs rising above him like a symphony.  He licked a fat stripe from your perineum, his tongue like a basin for catching your nectar, drinking you, inhaling you, eating you. He tried to be kind, gentle, but once he’d had a taste, he couldn’t stop himself. 

Joel was a menace. He knew it. Growling under his breath, his breathing heavy and ragged, the beast in him was closer to the surface than he’d let it get in years. Muzzle off but leash tight, he licked and drank and sounded like he’d never eat again. He moaned into you, harmonizing with your sweet, desperate sounds, both of you moving without thinking, your hips pushing into his mouth while he rocked up against the bottom of the couch, the precum from his cock already staining the fabric of his pants.

“Oh,” you mewled, trembling, “oh, Joel—Joel, I think… oh god—”

The sound of his name like that on your lips, pleading and filled with want was a blow to his gut. He paused his grinding, knowing full well he could finish in his pants if he let himself go even one inch further.

He couldn’t take his mouth away from you. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted to praise you, to worship you, to admit how beautiful you were, how unreal you tasted, sweet and warm and soft like velvet against his tongue. He was losing his mind, forcing his heavy‑lidded eyes to stay open, to watch you fall apart for him. 

The hand that was placed upon your mound had started thrumming at your little clit so he could fuck your keep with his tongue, pushing and drinking you in, forcing your back to arch, your lungs to heave, throat crying out. And that’s when he felt the pulsing swell of your orgasm crest and rush through you, thighs shaking, heels pulling him in, digging into his shoulder blades as you brought him closer.

“Yes,” he swore, “That’s it, baby, fucking soak me, come all over my face, atta girl,” his voice was raw with desire, aching for it, and you let out one final scream of pleasure as he kept you there to ride it out, tongue pushing in, thumb circling your clit.

And as you settled, thighs trembling, he saw your throat bobbing, hoarse, eyes heavy and moist as you looked at him again, “Holy shit,” you whispered, giggling a bit. 

Joel wasn’t in the mood for playfulness anymore. Not with the way that feral, starving thing in him was thrashing now, begging, snapping at its leash. His cock strained violently through his sweatpants, painful and insistent, and he crawled over you like gravity had taken hold of him. His hands cupped the bowl of your skull, holding you steady as he kissed you, deep and claiming, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he commanded between breaths, “taste how fuckin’ good you are,”

You moaned into his mouth, and he thought he might scare you with how badly he wanted you, it scared him a little too. But you could feel his cock, and you were grinding on the outline of it, creamy folds pulsing around the cotton covered mold of him. He was groaning and pushing into you, sawing his hips hard into your cradle. 

“That feels so good, Joel, oh god, please, I want it, I’m ready, I’m ready,” you babbled, mouth soft and open for him as he kissed down your chin, along your jaw, to the shell of your ear. He sat back on his haunches, fingers shaking as he tugged his waistband down. He didn’t care to discard them fully, he was too lost in his need, his hunger. Monopolized by it, it’s all he could think of, giving you this. Giving you him. 

But as he brought his cock to lay across your belly, too heavy to bob up against his own, your eyes widened, a prickle of fear through them as you looked up at him. 

His hand slid to the crease of your hip and thigh, thumb settling right into that soft pocket of skin. He stroked you there, slow, reassuring. “S’alright, baby. You ever seen a cock before?”

You shook your head. “In pictures,” you whispered. “But not… not—” You lifted your hands to your face, peeking through your fingers like you were bracing for a jump scare. “It’s not gonna fit, Joel. Absolutely not.”

He chuckled before he could stop himself, but it wasn’t soft. It sounded rough, a little feral, like something wrenched out of him without permission. "We'll make it fit, honey," he said with finality.

He tried to school that feral part of him back, but then your hand moved.

You were reaching down, touching, your finger tracing the ridge of the head, making him hiss. You jerked your hand away, startled, but he caught your wrist with surprising gentleness. “S’okay,” he breathed, eyes falling shut as he tried not to lose what little control he had left. “Feels good. Maybe too good.” He guided your hand back, lacing his fingers over yours, helping you cup the weight of him. He rocked into your hand, slow and tight.

“So warm,” you whispered to yourself, “Soft, too, like velvet,” 

Joel hummed, lost to the way your delicate fingers felt around him as he rucked against you. The friction wasn’t enough, and he brought your hand to his mouth, spit into it, your eyes wider, and brought your hand back down. His head thrown back and mouth open, he let you play, no longer guiding, letting you explore. Your wet fingers traced him, teased him, wrapped around him, and he felt his vision spark white at the edges. He wanted to watch so badly but couldn’t, the feeling of your wet exploration, your learning of him, far too delicious to focus on anything but touch alone. 

“I want to try,” you said at last, “maybe just…just be slow,” 

Joel looked back down at you, but you weren’t looking at him, instead, you were staring at your own hand, enraptured by the way it moved over him, touching him like you were trying to memorize every vein and ridge. When you reached further, cupping his balls gently, he let out a groan that tore through him, a sound he couldn’t have held back if he tried. 

He gripped himself, shifting so he could slide through the slick honey you made for him, his cock jumping at the feeling of your warm keep. 

You moaned at the contact, hands flying to his forearms, gripping as you whimpered at the notch of when he finally prodded the entrance. 

“M’nervous,” you whispered. 

Joel leaned down immediately, cupping your cheeks in both hands again, kissing your mouth once, soft and grounding, trying to soothe the tremble running through your body. “I got you, baby. Daddy’s got you. Gonna take it slow, I promise. You ready?”

You nodded, arms slipping around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him close like you couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.

Joel’s mouth fell open, jaw coming unhinged as he pushed, slowly, like molasses, through your walls. They clenched down, as nervous as you were to his intrusion. He kissed you again, distracting you with his tongue, coaxing you through it, letting you mewl sweetly into his mouth as your body adjusted around him.

“Oh!” you squealed, “you’re—you’re in my belly,” you hissed as he pulled back a little, settling there. 

He pushed your hair back, your forehead dappling in sweat, “It’s alright,” he murmured, over and over, his voice a low litany. “It’s alright. Gonna hurt for just a minute. That’s halfway, baby. Only halfway. You’re doin’ so good. She feels like heaven.”

You were moaning, whether in pleasure or pain, Joel knew he needed to wait. He felt your walls pulling and pushing, constricting like a fist, all the blood in the thick vein that rushed along his shaft pulsing. He kissed your neck, your jaw, all to keep himself in line, to keep that shred of restraint, waiting. 

“Bein’ so good for me, baby,” he whispered, “How you feelin’, hm? Talk to me.”

You drew in a deep breath. “Feels funny,” you admitted, “but better.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering. “Keep going. Please. I want to feel all of you.”

Joel looked into your eyes then, searching, both of you a mirror of desire, of nerves, of want, “Okay, okay,” he cooed, pushing in a few more inches. Your neck arched back, eyes squeezing shut, and he tapped his thumb against your jaw, “Look at me, honey, daddy’s got ya,”

Your eyes opened, and your breath came heavier, and soon your grimace was turning into an ‘o’ of pleasure as he seated himself fully, his balls pushing into the cheeks of your ass. 

“Ohhh…” Joel groaned, “Ain’t that so good, sugar?” 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you were whispering. 

Joel eased back just enough to look down between your bodies. You followed his gaze, chest heaving, watching with him as his cock slid out, slick with your release, veins streaked with white cream, the thick length glistening under the low light. His hair was damp, peppered with sweat and ecstasy.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathed, eyes wide, watching him push back in, your neck arching with the stretch, head tipping helplessly into the pillows. “Please, please don’t stop—it feels—oh my god—it feels so fucking good—”

And finally, fucking finally, after what felt like ages of restraint, of being good, of holding himself and muzzling that mean dog in him, Joel let go of the leash.

He started fucking into you with full force, sawing deep, hard, relentless, watching the way his cock disappeared and reappeared inside you, dripping with slick. His jaw clenched, his body shuddering as he gave in to the hunger.

“You’ve got no fuckin’ clue,” he growled, “how long I’ve wanted this.” His hands moved to grip your hips so hard his knuckles blanched. “How long I’ve thought about you like this. Moanin’ my name with my cock deep in you.”

Your eyes were wide as you watched him, moaning his praises. Oh, god, oh god, tell me, daddy please tell me—

He couldn’t stop looking, watching himself move in and out of you like it was the only thing left in the world, and his mouth spilled every unclean thought he'd ever had. “You got no idea, baby. Wanted to fuck your throat every time you gave me lip. Wanted to bend you over the cabin floor that time we got snowed in, make her cry for me. God, I wanted you so bad.”

Sweat was dripping from his forehead, falling onto your belly, hot against hot. The room blurred at the edges, fire and muscle and want, just you taking everything he gave.

“Ain’t my fault,” he murmured, a crooked little smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect. This ass. That face. You’re perfect, baby. All mine now. My perfect girl.”

“Yes, Joel, I’m yours—I wanna be—it’s all I’ve ever—” you were gasping, hiccuping on a moan, nails dragging down his arms. “Please, come here, closer—”

He dropped over you again in an instant, kissing you hard, bellies sliding together, soaked in sweat, his rhythm never slowing. The couch rocked beneath you as he kept fucking into you, kissing you as if it might kill him if he stopped.

“I’m yours,” you whispered against his mouth, nails scraping into his scalp. “Fuck me like I’m yours, Joel.”

He bit into your neck, rough and deep, and you wailed, body tightening as he sawed into you. He forced himself to keep a steady rhythm, he would not ruin this by being an animal. He told himself he’d teach you one day how to take a good fucking, maybe bent over the armchair or over his kitchen counter, or maybe in the shower, but tonight he needed to still be gentle and good, keeping it steady for only you. 

His thumb found your clit and you jolted like you’d been shocked.

“N–n–no, too much,” you cried out, writhing, your hands pushing at him weakly.

“Say your word n’ I’ll stop, baby girl, come on, know you’re tough, know you can take it,” he growled, “wanna feel how fuckin’ tight she’ll get when she comes around me, come on now, be daddy’s girl and come for me.”

You were wailing, tears beading in your eyes, but you didn’t say your word, you nodded, kissing him, salt and wet and delicious as your breath came shorter and shorter. And then you froze, legs widening until your thighs were planted on the bed, taking your orgasm, letting him fuck you through it, your velvet keep a vice around his cock, a fist, threatening to choke the life out of him as you came. 

"I'm gonna come inside," he wanted, "I have to, I can't—"

"Yes, yes, yes," you whispered.

He was babbling praise in your ear as he held on through sheer force before his own body went taut and he was coming inside of you, unable to talk himself into pulling away. That’s a good girl, atta girl, what a sweet little thing takin’ daddy’s cock so good, that’s it, that’s it, yes.

And in the after, the two of you lay like that, bodies tangled and unwound, catching your breath while the sweat cooled and soaked into the old couch cushions beneath you. He kept his mouth on your shoulder, slow open kisses that tasted of salt and the faintest sweetness of your skin. Your fingers stroked gently at his hair, a soft and steady petting that calmed him. He felt the heavy rise and fall of your chest begin to ease, your heartbeat settling back into its natural rhythm, the thrum of it against his sternum.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words faint and almost shy.

Joel hummed against your skin, his lips still wandering, kissing whatever they could reach. He did not know how to answer you without saying too much.

“What happens now?” you asked even quieter. 

He lifted his head, brushing a kiss to your chin, then the swell of your bottom lip, then the tip of your nose, giving himself time to think. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and you can...” He paused when he saw your brow crease, the worry clouding the softness that had been there a moment ago. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna go home,” you whispered. “I don’t want this to be the last time. I want…I meant what I said, Joel. I’m yours, if you’d have me.”

He went still, just for a moment, watching the worry flicker behind your eyes. He hated that worry. Hated that he might be the cause of it. You were brave enough to say it, and he knew what that cost.

He’d lived a long time doing favors for folks, keeping to himself, giving women what they asked for without stepping past the boundaries they laid down. Jackson’s Cherry Picker. That stupid little nickname had stuck, and maybe he’d earned it. But he never took what wasn’t offered, they never stayed long after, and he never asked for more. They came to him wanting a lesson, a night, a rite of passage, and he’d give them exactly that. No promises. No expectations. 

And most days he convinced himself he liked it that way. It kept him unbound, kept things simple. And it kept him from wanting what he’d already lost too many times.

But simple had turned into lonely long before tonight, and he hadn’t even noticed until now, with you in his arms. You had been the exception from the beginning. But now…now…

He lifted his hand to your cheek, thumb brushing the heat there, and saw how much you meant every word you’d said. It would be the easiest thing in the world to tell you to go, to stick to the script he always used, to keep his life small and untouched.

But he couldn’t picture you leaving. Not after this. This was mind altering, a seismic change, like fault lines rearranged in his heart for you. A spell cast between you, irreversible and unseen. Whatever line you’d crossed together, it wouldn’t be uncrossed. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted to keep giving, to let himself soften and offer and pour whatever he had into your hands, if you chose that path with him.

“Stay here,” he said, more certain than he had felt in years, “Stay with me.”