[lordyitsjunie]

Hi!! I’m FERAL over your Lunch Break Joel x reader fic!! I need more from them!!

I’m obsessed with the way you write their relationship and the SMUT is out of this world!!

thank you 💕💕💕💕

oh god I love you I’m so glad you liked it and trust there WILL be more Joel smut, I’ve got some things cooking up in the drafts dw hehehe 🤭🤍

[millermouth]

miss honey (request)

summary: Jackson’s kindergarten teacher sure is sweet. Beloved by the community and gentle with the children, its no far feat for everyone to fall in love with her. Even big, bad, scary Joel Miller.

|| fluff, lil bit of angst cause joel miller is an anxious guy, miss honey coded reader (from the 1996 movie matilda), kindergarten teacher reader, canon compliant, easter eggs from tlou II, tenderness, flirting, yearning, joel is a big boy || a/n: let me just apologize cause I really don't know how to write fluff. there's not muchhhh plot here. just like...yearning. and kindergarten things. and yeah. but I had fun with it and it helped me with some writer's block :')

The baby boom in Jackson began about six months after you started to call the settlement home.

It wasn't very surprising. After all, safety had a way of loosening the grip of fear and letting love take root where survival had once ruled the mind. And when love was involved in a world with a lack of contraceptives… well, there were babies.

And oh, did Jackson have babies.

You'd only have to step out of the house to see the streets filled with the new beginnings of life. The air was soon full of coos and soft cries, followed with gentle reassurances passed between mothers and fathers, neighbors leaning in to lend a hand. It brought the town closer than ever before.

Somehow, childless and single, yet old enough to be trusted, you found yourself caring for the little ones while their parents tended to work or if they just needed some rest. At first, it was a baby here and there dropped off at your door for an afternoon. And then as word spread about how good you were with the children, your home began filling with tiny feet and bright eyes. Some parents even joked their children preferred you to them, which made you laugh but left you secretly honored.

Over the years—how fast they go by when watching tiny humans grow—the babies turned to toddlers, who inevitably turned to children. By the time many of them turned three or four, you realized how badly they craved something more. Not because they were unruly, but because their minds were so eager to stretch and wander. They needed a place to learn, to play, to begin imagining larger worlds.

Soon, you were convincing Tommy Miller and his wife Maria to let you use a small building down the road as a school. You painted its walls with sprawling gardens, bees and butterflies and flowers blooming in bright murals on the outside. String lights were strung across beams, and with the help of a young man Jesse and his girlfriend Dina, you raided an elementary school in an abandoned town over the mountain. It had been left and untouched, after all, because who bothered with school supplies when the world ended? Yet you came away with treasures: coloring books and workbooks, crayons by the hundreds, pencils, scissors, paints, paper that hadn't rotted away in the twenty years it had been left. Your little building became a schoolhouse in no time, shelves full of books and crafts and trinkets found along the way. Each item seemed small, but meant everything to you.

And on your birthday, Jesse and Dina had surprised you with an entire chalkboard and a box filled with little white sticks. The moment you laid your eyes on it, you fell into their arms, laughing and weeping all at once.

Today, a warm spring afternoon, you were out in the community garden with the children, all of them crouched among the rows of mulch and sprouting harvest. You'd been teaching them about roots and leaves, how the soil and sun worked together to make things grow, how they love to lean towards the light. You taught them how there was some inexplicable thing about nature that liked to be sung to. Halfway through leading them in a cheerful round of You Are My Sunshine, you noticed Tommy Miller heading your way, a broad grin on his face and someone at his side.

You rose from your kneeling position, dusting the dirt from your palms and smoothing your yellow dress, calling out to the children, "You can pick off one vegetable each—and I do mean one, Joey!"

"Mornin'," Tommy said warmly upon your approach. His smile was so wide his freckle-dusted cheeks were flushed pink, radiating a kindness that always put you at ease.

"Morning, Tommy," you replied, leaning in to greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. You turned back to double check the rows of children—still eighteen heads like giggling blossoms between the thicket of greenery—before turning back to your visitor, a little breathless, "How are you?"

“I’m wonderful, honey, thank you,” he said, hands settling on his hips in his usual easy stance. “Wanted to introduce you to one of our new folks. This here’s my brother, Joel.”

"Hi, Joel," you greeted warmly, offering your hand. He inclined his head, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth as his thick palm closed around yours. He was so warm and gentle, fingers worn with rough calluses and his hand swallowed yours in its grasp. You suddenly caught yourself staring at the silver threading through his dark hair and the broad cut of his shoulders before you let go.

"Joel here's gonna be helpin' with that schoolhouse of yours," Tommy continued once your hands had parted, clapping his hand onto the broad cup of his brother's shoulder, "roof's been in bad shape since the winter. And he's the man to fix it."

"Oh, I'd really appreciate it so much," you replied, eyes brightening, until you hesitated, "I'll still be able to teach, though?" you glanced back at the children as you spoke, counting again, the instinct automatic. Still eighteen.

Joel spoke for the first time then, his voice low and even, pleasantly rough, "Yes, ma'am, shouldn't get in your way too much."

Your eyes flicked to him, startled by the warmth in his tone. “What a shame,” you said softly, catching yourself and smiling, "but I'm glad I'll still be able to teach."

Tommy’s eyes moved between his brother and you, quick and curious.

"Well, we'll let you get back to it," he said, his hand clapping one more time on Joel before giving you one more beaming smile. As his one hand left his brother's shoulder, the other found the small of your back in parting, light and friendly, "You take care now, honey,"

"You too," you returned, a blush reaching your cheeks as your gaze found Joel's once more. His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than polite, so pretty you wondered how many colors you'd have to mix to get the hazel right. And then he nodded his goodbye, and parted with Tommy.

Joel

You see, when Joel was younger—when he had a mortgage to pay and a job to keep and a house to care for—it riddled him with gut-wrenching anxiety. He would ignore it, and could usually keep his head on long enough to get through the day, wishing to hit his head to a pillow and sleep it off, only to be left wide awake at night, begging his eyelids to shut. He would toss and turn, pleading for his brain to shut off, to put away the worry and just let him fucking sleep. It was a specific feeling in his stomach then—he couldn't eat or drink much without it churning painfully in his gut. It got so bad he started taking little while pills to help with the sores in his stomach. That's when the doctor told him he had anxiety.

That's what he was feeling now.

That stomach rolling, wide eyed feeling, staring up at his ceiling.

But this time, it wasn't because he had a baby to feed in a recession or because he had to hold a job he couldn't be sure he had the next day. It wasn't about reminding himself about soccer dues or another part needed for his truck to even get to the job he wasn't sure he'd had.

No, no.

Joel Miller had a fucking crush.

It turned tides in his stomach even as he thought it.

Butterflies, he’d call it, you know, if he was five years old. He fisted his palms into his eyes, willing them to close, to let him fucking sleep. Twenty years into the end of the world and his brain was worried what you’d thought of him today. What that look in your eyes meant as you realized you’d be seeing him a lot more now that the roof to your school was so decayed from winter’s wet blanket the last four months.

The next few days did not make it much easier.

He and Ellie were given the rest of the weekend to settle in, to get their bearings and meet the other folks in town, and if anything the reprieve only made it worse. He kept seeing you—everywhere—in such small, ordinary ways that made it impossible to ignore the flipping in his stomach.

He saw you at the stables, saying hello to the horses and the parents of a young boy, your hand resting on the boy’s shoulder while you listened like nothing else mattered. That next night, he saw you outside the Tipsy Bison with a glass of wine in your hand, your cheeks pink as a man flirted openly with you and you tried to laugh it off as if trying not to hurt his feelings. Joel didn’t feel bold enough to talk to you yet, but every now and then, when he checked back to see if you were still there, you would already be looking at him.

You wore the prettiest things too: a yellow dress one day with little frills at the sleeves, pale pink the next, soft and muddy at the hem as you picked vegetables. Then, Sunday afternoon he saw you on your porch wearing a pretty blue one as you painted, a small bouquet of flowers tucked into your apron pocket.

And the people of Jackson loved you.

Little children brought you treats, the stable boy offering his apple to you, the bartender at the Tipsy Bison not letting you exchange a single thing for your drink. In the market a woman gave you flowers because they matched that blue dress, not allowing your objections to the thoughtful gesture. And when Joel slipped you into conversation that Sunday night at dinner at Tommy and Maria's, his brother was all smiles and pride at what you'd done with that building on the side of town. How the place made it feel like the old days, steadier and alive because of you. And then, almost baffled, Tommy added he couldn’t believe you’d been single, on your own all this time, always tending to the children and never worrying about anyone’s flirtations.

Joel didn't get any sleep that night.

On Monday morning, he was at the kitchen table, sunlight beaming through the window in pale stripes across the worn wood. Ellie sat across from him, kicking her feet with restless irritation as she hunched over her notebook. The only sound in the room was Joel's fork against the porcelain in front of him, and her pen scratching doodles in the lines of the paper.

Joel pushed his eggs around his plate, managing a few bites only because he knew better than to skip eating altogether. His stomach rolled anyway, just like it had been all night.

“Sounds to me like you’re bored,” he said around a bite of egg, swallowing the lump in his throat, forcing his voice to stay easy, normal. “And need a job.”

Ellie snorted, finally glancing up from the notebook, pen held aloft “Where?” she asked, and then pointed the pen at him, threatening. “And don’t tell me farm duty. That sucked so bad I can’t imagine why anyone would ever sign up for that.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, then set the pen aside and reached for a slice of apple, dragging it through the mason jar of peanut butter beside her plate before taking a bite. Mid chew, she added, “And no one will let me train for patrol yet.”

Joel stood and gathered her empty plate with his own, twisting the lid back onto the jar and sliding it out of reach before she could go back for more. She tended to like to stick her entire finger in the jar when she ran out of apple slices.

“Hey!” Ellie protested.

“Get up,” Joel said, jerking his chin toward the door. “You’re comin’ with me.”

“I can’t do manual labor,” she yelled after him, chair scraping loudly as she stood. “I don’t even know how to use a screwdriver!”

“Lucky for you,” he said, throwing on his boots, keeping his back to her so she wouldn’t see the way his jaw was set, “the job I got in mind requires minimal manual labor.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “That is, unless you count havin’ to pick up and carry around forty-somethin’ pounds every so often.”

You

"Ellie here has been needin' a job," Joel explained on the doorstep of your schoolhouse. His eyes wouldn't meet yours the entire time he'd been saying hello, introducing Ellie as he stared at her. She was cute—red haired, freckle faced. And Joel had a soft smile as he looked at her, even though his arms were folded tightly across his chest. You wondered for a moment if the smile was saying something else between them, an inside joke you didn't know, a little smug and teasing as she elbowed him.

"Uh, hi," Ellie said with a polite grin, a little shy.

You smiled back, bright and sincere, "I'm really so grateful to have you," you said as you greeted the kids filing in around you. The schoolhouse was streaked with winter's melt, the sunflowers and bees now faded, "We're learning about the solar system today, so it'll be great to have an extra pair of hands."

You sounded a little exasperated, but really, there couldn't have been a better day for her arrival—paper mache, planets, glue and scissors and paint all in the hands of eighteen of Jackson's five year olds. Planning it had been exciting, especially when you'd found a book on Space Exploration for Dummies. But now, staring down the barrel of the day ahead, you were immensely grateful for the teenager to help out.

As the last child filed inside, Ellie followed, her face brightened and excited, and you turned to close the door and bid her guardian goodbye. As you reached for the handle, you caught one more glance at Joel as he finally looked up at you.

You wondered if it was winter’s last nip of the morning, or if he’d always been so pink in the cheeks, but you could’ve sworn Joel Miller was blushing.

The day carried on, and eighteen miniature solar systems came to life. There were planets strung on yarn and stars splattered with paint on black paper you'd spent all night painting the days before. Glue was dried between small fingers, markers rolled beneath desks, laughter filling the space. Ellie was absolutely radiant as she darted between tables to help the little ones.

"Did you know the moon smells like gun powder?" she'd asked, grinning as the kids gasped, "gun powder's the stuff they use to make weapons work, like when your parents go on patrol. Same stuff. Cool, right?"

"Did you know the first animals in space were fruit flies? Everyone always says monkeys, but nope—flies! They sent them for radiation exposure."

"Did you know the heat sheilds on shuttles are made of sand? No seriously!!"

By the third fact, you'd decided maybe she should've been teaching the lesson herself.

When the day finally wound down, gluey hands washed clean and paints capped, Ellie stood at the sink, carefully working the brushes under running water. She had gone a little quiet once the kids all left for supper, her voice soft when she finally spoke to you as you cleaned up. “Thanks for letting me… you know… help out.”

You smiled, pouring the cloudy rinse water into the basin beside her. “I think that was the best lesson yet. You were amazing.”

Ellie’s grin widened, freckles dancing across her nose, her eyes bright and alive. You shared a quiet, easy moment there, just smiling at each other.

There was a knock on the open door behind you, and a familiar voice called out.

"Ready to head home?"

You and Ellie both turned. Joel stood in the doorway, filling it with his broad frame, his shirt darkened with sweat at the collar and under his arms, hands dirt-smudged, a strip of white gauze wrapped around his left palm.

Ellie dried her hands quickly and grabbed her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder as she walked towards him. But instead of stopping in front of him, she went around, looking sheepishly up at him from outside, “Uh…Kat actually invited me over. We’re gonna hang out.” she shrugged, “Save me some dinner?”

Joel blinked, “I—okay, uh, yeah.”

Ellie’s eyes found you once more, “Thanks again, Miss!”

You waved her off with a small smile, then wiped your hands on your yellow apron, untied it, and draped it over the back of your chair. When you sat on the edge of the desk, the fatigue caught up with you all at once, settling into your bones as the quiet finally took hold. The room was clean now, desks straightened, floors swept, but the day still clung to you—glue under your fingernails, paint in your hair, the usual. There was an exhaustion in your bones, but the good kind, from a day well spent.

Joel stood awkwardly at the door for a moment, picking at the bandage on his left hand, shifting once before clearing his throat, “She tends to run her own schedule, sorry ‘bout that,”

You laughed softly, “She’s wonderful.”

He looked up at that, his eyes finding yours, and god, they really were so pretty. Every color from the forest under a thick, dark brow. He looked at you like he wasn’t expecting the praise, like the compliment hit somewhere tender.

“Yeah. She is,” he murmured, eyes dropping again, the pink returning to his cheeks.

You tilted your head, smiling gently. “She was incredible today. And the kids loved her. I think she taught half the lesson for me.”

“Well,” Joel scratched the back of his neck, bashful, “she’s always loved space, never stops talkin' about it whenever she can.”

“That’s a good thing here,” you said softly. “I could use someone who talks a lot. I’m usually outnumbered by eighteen little voices.”

You both watched each other for a long moment, and you felt like you were cataloging him. Broad shoulders, dark hair, that thick peppered beard and thick bottom lip. You blushed before trying to look away, but then something caught your eye.

“Joel?” you asked gently, your eyes finally realizing that bandage hadn’t been there this morning, “What happened to your hand?”

He seemed startled that you’d noticed, following your gaze down to the bandage as if it had only just occurred to him. “Oh. It’s nothin’,” he said. “Just… been a while since I done much construction. Roof was worse’n I thought. Should throttle Tommy for leavin' you to a rotted decking for so long."

You pushed yourself up from the desk without thinking, concern warming your expression as you stepped closer. “Still,” you said, “it must’ve hurt.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but he flushed pink again, “It’s fine. Really.”

But he didn’t pull away when you reached for his arm. You took his bandaged hand carefully, your fingers gentle as you adjusted the loose wrap, neatening it without comment. He went very still beneath your fingers, watching you the whole time, as if he weren’t used to being tended to, as if the simple act of care was something new and overwhelming.

“I’m glad you’re helping with the schoolhouse,” you said quietly after a minute, your fingers resting on the thick of his arm. “We really needed it. Tommy and Maria, I mean… and me.”

His eyes moved between yours, something shy in his smile. “Happy to,” he said. “Really.”

You couldn't stop looking up at him, studying him, watching him watch you. His beard had been trimmed since yesterday, the dark thick hair still threaded with silver, neater than it was, and the thought surprised you with how fond it made you feel.

Joel's expression was changing as you watched him. Your hand still laid on his arm, just delicate and gentle, not even putting pressure. You hadn’t realized how near you’d drifted until you were almost chest to chest, your breath catching a little at the space between you, at how solid he felt, how steady.

He lowered his arms slowly, careful not to startle you, and then his bandaged hand lifted, hesitant, as if he were asking permission with the motion itself. His fingers pinched a streak of blue paint caught in your hair.

"You really are somethin, miss honey," he murmured as he dragged the color from your hair.

"My name's—not—I—"

But you couldn't make the words form. It was your turn to blush and stammer, as his hand tucked the hair away, and he inhaled. You could feel your breath being stolen from him. His smile was shy but widening, maybe amused as he realized you were suddenly as nervous as him.

"What’re you doin’ tonight?” he asked quietly, hope threaded through the question. His voice was so low, so gravelly but soft. You wanted to close your eyes just to hear it like a hymn.

You hummed, a little delirious at the closeness, at the smell of the mint on his breath. You wondered if he'd gotten some from the garden before coming here.

"Nothing." you answered.

You realized then he hadn’t dropped his hand from your ear. He was still holding your face, thumb warm where it brushed your temple.

He hesitated, and you watched his eyes move around the focals of your face, your eyes, your nose, your lips—oh god—and it made your chest feel too small for your heart, made you suddenly aware of your own mouth, the way you were breathing.

And then, gathering his courage, he said: “Dinner?”

You lifted your hand without thinking, circling his wrist where it hovered, a quiet little anchor, and it was like the touch finally caught up with him. His breath hitched, his shoulders softened. This big, broad man suddenly unsure in the sweetest, most disarming way, offering you something fragile and waiting to see if you’d take it.

“I’d like that,” you said, smiling back, a little breathless yourself. “I can bring coffee, if you—”

His entire expression changed in a glimpse. The cautious set of his brows lifted, the corners of his mouth lifting wider, and his eyes sparkled like embers catching light.

“There’s coffee?” he asked, almost boyishly hopeful.

You couldn’t help the way your smile widened in return, your tongue finally finding its way back to you as you wet your lips and remembered how to speak.

“Every once in a while the bakery gets some,” you said softly. “I teach the owner’s kids, so… I usually get first dibs when it comes in.”

He let out a quiet breath that was almost a laugh, and only then seemed to realize his hand was still on your face. He lowered it slowly, careful, and you followed the movement without thinking, your fingers sliding from his wrist down to his hand until you were only holding the tips of each other’s fingers.

“That sounds….” he said, earnest and a little unsteady. “That would be real nice, honey.”

You looked at him for a long moment, both of you smiling in a soft, stunned way that felt too big for words.

“Walk me home?” you asked, quiet and hopeful.

He glanced out at the open door, the evening settling into purples and oranges, then back at you, and his hand slipped further into yours, squeezing it once.

“Lead the way,” he said.

some bonus pics I took for you from the game :)

[lordyitsjunie]

omg you you your rahhhhhhhhhh IM GOING FERAL OVER LATEST JOEL FIC the tension the teasing omg nothing explicit happened and im losing my mind YOU ARE SO BRILLLIANT YOU I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BRAIN 💕💕💕💕

it’s the year of the bush. bushes unite ✨✨

AH I’m blushing I’m happy you liked it thank you for reading it I love YOU!!!!!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[allconsuminglovergirl]

[lordyitsjunie]

Joel “forgets” to trim his beard, so you get back at him and also “forget” to shave. Or, Joel is a bush lover and I stand ten fucking toes down yall can argue with a wall. no warnings but it is suggestive so MDNI, this idea came to me when I was trying to sleep and refused to leave until I wrote it so. yeah. wc: a little over 2k, meant for it to be shorter but i got a lil carried away LMAO

People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth.

When you realize you can tell someone the truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you can stand in front of them bare and their response is you’re safe with me —that’s intimacy.

So why the hell was it so damn hard to tell Joel that you didn’t like how full his beard was getting? Gone was the usual soft scruff that you would wake up to scratching deliciously against your bare shoulder, or buried between your thighs to leave a soft burn that you would be reminded of all day. In its place was thicker, darker patches of hair filled in on his cheeks and jaw, with hints of silver peeking through whenever the light caught him just right.

And although it wasn’t the worst thing in the world because shit, at the end of the day he’s still your Joel, and can pull off a full beard, you still missed the patchy scruff. How hair refused to grow around a scar at his chin, or the way you were once able to see clearly how his Adam’s apple bobbed on the nights where you wanted to control the rhythm.

You tried to hint to him that he should cut it back; making a comment here and there about how much it had grown out. Like when you lifted a spoonful of whatever you were cooking for him to try, one hand holding the spoon while your other hand curled beneath his chin so he didn’t make you accidentally bump it, you had said something along the lines of it’s getting long.

He responded only to the taste of the food you were making him test taste; like your words hadn’t fully registered to him, and he’d blame it on the fact that your blunt nails were scratching gently beneath his chin like they always did. An absentminded motion that never failed to clear his head.

Or when he got home early one evening and the two of you spent the rest of the day lounging on the living room floor where it was cooler, beers sweating onto the dark wood as you leaned back against his chest. His head dipped occasionally to press a kiss to the spot behind your ear—absentmindedly and done during commercial breaks of whatever game you two were watching, it still made you shiver because his beard would scratch against the sensitive skin.

Of course, he didn’t think anything of it because he was used to that reaction to his kisses. A shiver, maybe a quiet giggle or two he’d be able to pull from you. Hearing you mutter a quiet, that tickles, like that was enough of a hint for him.

Shocker, it wasn’t.

the following morning, when you woke up draped in his shirt and laying half-on top of him, your back sore from not only just falling asleep on the uncomfortable living room floor with a blanket underneath you two like that would soften the hard-wood. Joel was still asleep next to you; oblivious and knocked out from the long night, and allowing for you to really take in the fullness of his beard. Fuck. It had really grown out.

Blinking through the bleariness of sleep, you allowed your thumb to brush against the part of his beard that now connected the fullness above his upper lip to his chin, and then brought the idea in your head. A way to retaliate. You were up and in the shower before he had the chance of realizing you were gone.

-

When the evening finally came and you and Joel were doing your own nightly routines of showering and getting ready for bed, the bathroom door cracked slightly for the two of you to be able to talk while he took his turn in the shower—alone, much to his displeasure when you declined his offer of joining in, because you weren’t about to ruin the surprise—, you stood at the end of the bed with a bottle of lotion.

The shower turned off and you heard him grab his towel while he continued on his rant about how a client he and Tommy were working with wanted them to tear down a wall that had important stuff inside it—you weren’t really listening—, and you had to force yourself not to give away your excitement when you heard him finally tug the bathroom door open.

And he sees it. You know he sees it because he suddenly becomes quiet, hearing whatever he was saying trail off into nothing. Watching like a predator, you feel his gaze burning into you from behind as you pump some lotion into your palm and lift a leg to prop up on the bed, under the faux innocent guise as something as pure as putting on lotion before going to bed. However, he wasn’t stupid. He knew you better than anyone; knew when you were teasing him. When you were throwing a metaphorical tantrum. He just wasn’t sure about the why.

He sifts through his head, thinking back on what he could have done today, and then the day prior, but he couldn’t come up with anything concrete. Anything that would warrant you, running your hands down your legs, spreading the soft buttery lotion over your skin while giving him a full view of the dark hair curling out from your panties. Shit. He was glad he bothered with pulling on a pair of boxers before leaving the bathroom.

Although you never fully shave anymore—he remembers you went to get a wax once and came back damn near in tears because you made the mistake of wearing jeans. Your inner thighs had been sensitive for hours after, and the regrowth was a bitch; constantly itching thanks to ingrown hairs, it pissed you off to the point that you swore off ever shaving down to the skin. So, you settled for trimming and, in general, keeping it neat and tidy.

You liked it like that; cleaned up. Trimmed. Fresh. Makes me feel clean, you told him one night after he’d tugged your panties down, practically drooling at the sight of your arousal soaking the thatch of hair you had trimmed up earlier in the day. So he watched as you almost tauntingly ran your hands up and down your bare legs, finding himself jealous of the way you squeezed the soft plush above the bend of your knee. He wished it was his mouth in place of your hands; kissing, nipping, licking and sucking his way up.

“Are you okay?” Your voice brought him out of his head and when he lifted his eyes from your leg, he found you already looking at him. The corner of your lip tilted, like you knew what he was thinking.

He nodded dumbly, lifting a hand to scratch at his jaw like he was trying—and failing—not to look like a creep. He was your husband, for fucks sake. He was allowed to look at you like that, right? “Yeah—uh. Just wasn’t expecting…” he gestured vaguely towards you, as if that was answer enough.

“Oh,” with a grin that told him you knew exactly what you were doing, yet your tone laced with faux innocence, you rub your hands together, allowing for the coco butter-y scent of the lotion to waft through the air. “I got new lotion today, figured I’d try it out—wanna smell?”

Your hands held outstretched in front of you, palms facing upwards as if that was where he wanted to bury his face right now. Instead, he fixed his expression and shook his head.

“Not talkin’ about the lotion.”

You, with your hands still out in front of you, your panties still hugging your hips, your tank top hiked slightly on one side, smelling like soap and fresh coco butter lotion, had the audacity to tilt your head in confusion. To give him a look like he was the crazy one here.

God, how he wanted to lick it all off of you—damn the chemically pungent taste it most likely had. You looked like a goddamn painting right now; one he’d hang in his room, lock away for his eyes to only ever see. The golden evening sunlight that came in through the slanted shutters of the room hit you perfectly. Brought out every little detail in you that he was still somehow managing to find years later; every little freckle on your skin, the shine in your hair, the way your lashes kissed the skin of your upper cheek, the way curls peeked out from your panties…

“You, um.” How was he going to go about this without sounding like an ass? He never cared what you did with your body—scratch that: he wanted you to do with your body, whatever made you comfortable. What you liked, he loved. He never commented on certain things, and when he did it was almost always a compliment. “Did you… forget something today?”

Had he not pressed his eyes shut for a second afterwards, as if scolding himself inwardly at how stupidly he was going about this, he might have been able to catch the way you had to bite back an ever growing grin; teeth catching your cracked bottom lip as you forced your expression back into that faux confusion.

You managed, however, and responded the same as before. “Did I forget… No, I don’t think so?”

His throat bobbed as he exhaled through his nose and peeled his eyes back open, the subtle pinch in the middle of his brows a dead give away that he was trying his damndest to figure out how to word what he was going to say next. “You’re not…” he tried, and the pause in between words left you feeling a scatter of goosebumps crawling up the base of your spine.

“You didn’t shave.”

Worded not so much as a question as it was a statement, you finally let your lips curl into a smile when he got the words out. Your arms lowered from where they’d been outstretched in front of you, and you didn’t bother so much as a glance down at your clothed cunt—didn’t need to, because you knew what he was talking about. Knew what he had seen, because you wanted him to see it.

You do, though, offer him a shrug; lifting one shoulder before going back to rubbing lotion on your legs with a tone that belied nonchalance. “No, I didn’t.”

Joel was biting the inside of his cheek now as his eyes followed the path of your hands. How the dying light of the day caught against your bare skin and made you glow; looking like an ethereal being. “Why not?”

He didn’t mean to sound so crass—if anything, his follow up question earned him a chuckle from you. He heard it, quiet, breathy, but there. Like you knew something he didn’t. Like you knew it came from a place of genuine confusion rather than criticizing.

“Figured I’d let it grow out a little.”

Oh. He was familiar with those words; given that he had echoed the same thing hours ago after catching on to the little comments you’d made throughout the day, when the two of you had turned the lights off in the living room and he spread a blanket beneath your bare back while he tucked himself between your legs. Figured I’d let it grow out a little, he said after you wrinkled your nose when his beard tickled the sensitive skin of your neck. You don’t like it?

Except the thing was, he liked seeing you like this.

The bed dipped beneath your weight when you finally moved to sink into the mattress, pretending to be oblivious to the way his jaw ticked to the side and his eyes darkened ever so slightly.

“That’s what this is about?” His voice deepened as he put two-and-two together, low in his chest as he stalked forwards, forcing you to tip your head back to look up at him with the same audacity of playing oblivious. “You don’t like my beard?”

You click your tongue at him and set the lotion aside before leaning back against your palms, the thick blanket covering the bed soft against your skin. “Well, I didn’t say that.” Because technically, you didn’t. “I just think it’s getting a little long.”

He grunts. The floor beneath his feet groaning when he takes a step towards you. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.” He says.

“It’s just…” pausing, you roll your eyes up to the ceiling like you were trying to look for the right word to say. “Wrong.”

He repeats the word with an amused scoff, like he knew what you were trying to say. “My beard is wrong?”

“Well, maybe not wrong,” oh, here you were already backtracking on your statement simply because he’d narrowed his eyes at you as he closed the distance. Your pulse jumping beneath your skin and you cursed yourself inwardly because you weren’t supposed to be the nervous one here. “But, like… not you.”

You continued digging your own grave and he gave a mused mhm, making you swallow and roll your eyes like you were still trying to maintain a unfazed appearance. Like you couldn’t feel the heat of his skin as he approached, still warm from the shower, his dark hair fixed in unruly curls from the towel he’d tossed aside.

“I’m just saying,” he let you go on. “Maybe a little trim.”

His big palms slide underneath your thighs and haul you up further onto the bed, splitting your legs on either side of him to allow him the room to settle with a lopsided smirk while his thumbs brush against the edge of your panties. “Sweetheart, you’re really bad at this shit.” He chides playfully, following his words with a press of his lips to your naval while his eyes peer up at you from beneath the fan of dark lashes, making your stomach flip. “If this is your way of gettin’ back at me, I’m gonna start growing out my beard more often.”

In an attempt to stifle the giggle threatening at the back of your throat as his hands curl beneath your thighs to hike them up over his shoulders, you huff. “Don’t you dare.”

“Not really givin’ me much of a choice here, darlin’.”

You’d beg to differ. “Gave you plenty,” you retort, “you just have a habit of not paying attention.”

He was about to give you all the damn attention you want with the way his lips were going. “You want attention?” His teeth grazed your hipbone as his thumbs tucked themselves beneath the hem of your panties. “I’ll give you all the attention you want, baby.”

[forgotten-adventure]

In the mood to hear my ass smacking against his thighs

[dallianceangelx]

[mummyxdust]

The Ache Inside the Hate | m.a. x reader

Summary | When a blizzard hits and the group gets separated, you and Manny are stuck waiting out the storm together.

Warnings, Tropes | 18+, fem firefly!reader, possibly ooc manny (idk dude has like 5 mins of screen time), smut, forced proximity, acquaintances-to-lovers, requited-unrequited, oral (f receiving), dry humping, some dirty talk, unprotected p in v

Author's Note | Danny Ramirez is haunting me so now I have to write fanfics for all his characters 🤷‍♀️

WC | 12.6k

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

Harsh, howling winds rattled the windows of the resort, glacial air seeping in through cracked glass and walls eaten away by time. You could hear the building creaking with the severity of the storm, shingles flapping on the roof over your head, wayward doors swaying opened and closed somewhere on the floors below. As you sat bundled up in moth-eaten blankets, a stained and ripped paperback folded in your hands, Manny stood at the window facing the road, his shoulders rigid and foot tapping with impatience.

You had known a storm was coming as the team trekked through the Payette Forest - the temperatures were frigid, even by mountain standards, winds blowing crisp through the pines and woodland. For days, you encouraged Abby and the rest of the group to make camp in any of the nearby towns, as this had been a harsh winter already, but she kept putting it off, determined to make it to Jackson as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t until snow began to first fall delicately that you raised the matter again - after all, you were the pseudo-meteorologist of the group, for lack of a better title, so you knew how to predict the calm before the storm. And finally, they relented, hiking out of the forest and into the nearby cookie-cutter town of McCall.

The resort made the most sense for you to set up a base. Along the north side was a lake that had filled more and more through the years, flooding parts of the lower floor in a couple inches of icy water; the building was set back from the main roadway, allowing some isolation, and you could see for miles from the suite on the top floor, making it the ideal high ground.

Once the building was checked and secured, you all set out for a supply run, hoping to make it back before the storm hit. Knowing that time was limited, you decided to split up to cover more ground - you and Manny went south, Abby and Nora west, Owen and Mel south.

You’d gotten used to being paired off with Manny, as that had always been the case over the course of the past five years. For lack of a better word, you two were more akin to acquaintances than friends despite all your time together, the both of you not terribly interested in getting too close to anyone on the Firefly crew.

That shared attitude of detachment made you and Manny a good team - you could read one another and predict the next move, you could communicate easily through glances or gestures. Ironically, that also meant that you knew more about each other than anyone else, which wasn’t saying much in the grand scheme of things, but it bonded you nonetheless. Sure, he could annoy the hell out of you half the time, but if you had to pick someone to trust, at the end of the day it could only be Manny.

So, your partnership made the McCall supply run easy - the two of you rummaged through abandoned homes and a local game store, trying to find any possible provisions that you may need for the last leg on your trip to Jackson. Despite not finding much, you held out hope that perhaps the rest of the group may find things of more use.

But, as you’d come to learn, nothing was ever as easy as you expected. Considering your limited resources, your weather predictions weren’t an exact science - one moment, the snow was slow and beautiful, and then the next you couldn’t see more than five feet in front of you. You and Manny managed to make it back to the lodge, but now - some six or seven hours later - the rest of your group had yet to show up, and he was getting antsy, worrying over the lowering sun and the promise of nightfall.

“We should go looking for them.” Manny finally spoke for the first time in well over an hour. You took a deep breath through your nose, mouth tightening with agitation, though he couldn’t see the look with his back turned.

“We’re waiting.” You answered plainly without looking up from your book.

Manny turned to stare you down; you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was glowering at your seemingly nonchalant answer, “Something bad could’ve happened, and you sound bored?”

Here we go. Sometimes, you absolutely hated being left alone with him for more than an hour because it always ended up in some bullshit squabble over your attitude or Manny’s temper or something else completely irrelevant. Effective teamwork be damned, the two of you were nonetheless very different types of people.

Sighing, you dog-eared your page and dropped the book into your lap, matching Manny’s sour look with one of your own, “I’m not bored, asshole. I’m just following the rules that we made as a group. Or did you forget those already?”

The golden rules amidst the last remaining faction of Fireflies was simple: have a base to return to, wait there for each other when separated, and don’t go searching for anyone until twelve hours have passed. It stemmed from some kind of scout or camp guidebook, with a few tweaks, and it suited you all thus far. Everyone was more than capable of fending for themselves if need be, so it was better to avoid putting the whole group in danger whenever possible.

Manny’s eyes darkened a little as you stared at one another, neither wanting to be the first to look away, “By that time there’ll be no light left.”

“They know how to take care of themselves.” You countered, crossing your arms to retain a bit of warmth, “Abby said--”

“Doesn’t matter what Abby said.” He cut you off quickly, “None of us considered a goddamn blizzard when we set those rules up. Anything could happen to them out there - you just don’t care.”

An unamused laugh escaped you, rolling your eyes as sarcasm laced each of your words, “Wow, Manny, you’re so right, I never would’ve figured it out; I don’t care at all, that’s why I’m here and have been here all these years.”

“Stop with the attitude.” His jaw clenched as he took a step toward you, though he seemed hesitant to move too far from the window; he’d been practically glued to it since you got back, waiting for any sign of the rest of your team, “If you cared we’d be out there looking for them right now.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to continue mocking him the way you desperately wanted to right now. Eyes blazing, you stood, dropping your blankets and paperback carelessly while marching across the room towards Manny. You jabbed him firmly in the chest, but refrained from matching his temper; you were never one for arguments and confrontation, and nothing was ever resolved from your spats with Manny in the past.

“You really think I’m not worried out of my mind right now?” You asked through your teeth, “I’ve been stressed this entire trip just waiting for something bad to happen. Sure, I don’t feel good about sitting here reading a goddamn harlequin novel to pass the time, but it’s safer that we stay put, got it?”

Manny shook his head judgmentally, stepping back from you with a faint scoff, “You’re unbelievable. Why you’re still here is beyond me.”

Your brows shot up in stunned vexation at his hostility, “I’m still here because I give a shit, contrary to what you think.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fucking asshole.” You hissed under your breath while turning away from him, “We’re on the same side, so why do you keep fighting with me?”

“Because you’re willing to let them die out there!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“Isn’t it!?” Manny grabbed your elbow, spinning you around to face him again, “I know we have rules, and I know why. But the storm isn’t letting up, and they could be in serious trouble out there. And we’re doing nothing.”

“And what about us?” You hadn’t intended to raise your voice, yet your words came out in a strained yell nonetheless, “What happens if we go out there looking for them? Stop trying to be a hero and think about all the variables involved. What if we get lost out there, or we get attacked, or our own friends accidentally shoot us because they can’t see through all this fucking snow? Have you thought about any of that?”

You shook off Manny’s hand, continuing before he got the chance to intervene, “If we go out there, we could be putting ourselves at greater risk than any of them are in. We’re smart, that’s why this group works. Owen will do literally anything to keep Mel safe, Nora and Abby are the best survivalists I’ve ever seen. And we should stay put because we’re supposed to have enough confidence in their ability to stay alive.”

Manny looked between your eyes with a harsh glare, working his jaw as your words sank in. After a long beat, a scornful grin spread across his lips as he leaned towards you, voice low, “I guess you do care.”

You scowled up at Manny through your lashes, turning away again to go scoop up your book and blankets, intentionally keeping your back to him, “You’re not going out there, got it? We need to stick together. So, why don’t you cool off a little.”

Heading for the door, you had to resist the urge to turn and look at him; considering you were trying to make a point, you had to be more stubborn than usual.

“Where are you going?” You paused, hand resting on the doorknob.

“Anywhere to get away from you.” You answered harshly before throwing open the door and walking out into the hall.

It was pushing nine hours since the blizzard started. And no one was back yet.

You holed yourself up in what was once a game room, arcade cabinets with cracked screens and broken buttons lining one wall, billiards and foosball tables covered in dust and cobwebs lining the floor-to-ceiling windows. Miraculously, this half of the building wasn’t puddling with water, which couldn’t be said for some of the other rooms you wandered through.

All things considered, the furniture was in half-decent shape; you’d been curled in the corner of a couch since you found your way down here, trying and failing to focus on your contrived, though somehow charming, paperback’s narrative. Once night fell, you pulled out your flashlight in a half-assed attempt to try to read, but eventually you gave up, staring blankly at the pages for god knows how long.

Manny always assumed you didn’t care; he always assumed nothing mattered to you. Since the massacre at the hospital five years ago, when you all came together, the two of you were always pushing each other’s buttons in such little, inane ways.

You, who liked to have a plan and to keep a level-head, were so opposite to Manny’s action and emotion-driven attitude, that you were bound to have your disagreements. He was a soldier, ready to throw himself at anything he had to, willing to get his hands dirty; you were made for the backlines, planning and mapping and researching before you’d ever think to pick up a weapon. With the group all together, it was easy to balance out your personalities, easy to maintain order. The two of you had never been left alone together for this long, though.

Despite what Manny might think, you didn’t hate him. You never did. He was irksome and frustrating, but at the end of the day you respected him - his skills, his loyalty, his drive. Perhaps in another life - one in which you all weren’t forced to grow up in a dying world - things could have been different, you two could have been… well, something.

You thought about it from time-to-time, what life would be like if the last of the Fireflies could live those ‘normal’ lives you’d read about in books or seen in movies. You figured that your personalities clashed enough that maybe none of you would have befriended each other, considering that you came together as a means of survival rather than out of kinship.

But then you’d think about the good moments you shared. When you would stumble across something strange in an old magazine and immediately show Nora. When Mel would bring back little odds-and-ends that she thought were interesting. When you and Manny would actually laugh together at a joke one of you said that the others didn’t find quite so funny.

Maybe normal wouldn’t have been so bad.

Somewhere nearby, a door creaked on its hinges, startling you out of your reverie. You shot up in your seat, eyes wide as you looked left and right and behind; forgetting about your book, you clicked off your flashlight and reached for the knife strapped to your thigh, just in case the noise wasn’t friendly.

Heart beating rapidly, you prayed that it was everyone else managing to make their way back despite the dark of night. You carefully stood, taking light steps towards the door, ducking behind furniture and posts as you went.

And then you heard Manny’s voice calling your name, his tone frustrated; your chest deflated with ease as you sheathed your knife. You flicked your light back on and wrenched open the heavy door, drawing his attention from across the expansive lobby; you weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but it looked as if he let out a sigh of relief.

He lifted his arms, indicating the building around him, the beam from his own flashlight dancing aimlessly across the wall, “Had me searching this whole damn place for you.”

Manny’s mood seemed to have calmed, if his easy tone was anything to go on; maybe you wouldn’t have to take anymore attitude with him. One of the nearby windows, though still mostly intact, was missing a corner of glass, the bleak night air making you tug your collar up as if that could protect you from the cold.

You shrugged ruefully, “That was kinda the intention.”

Manny studied you, eyes searching your face and looking you up and down; it made you wonder what the hell was going on in his head. His jaw flexed as he nodded, accepting your reasoning, while looking about the lobby - toppled over furniture, icy floors from where water flooded in, shelves layered in cobwebs and dust.

“We stick together,” he said simply, echoing what you’d said to him a couple of hours ago, “you’re right about that. So long as it’s just the two of us here, we aren’t splitting up again.”

You nodded in agreement, chewing at the inside of your lip thoughtfully as your gaze dropped to the floor. There was a part of you that wanted to discuss your earlier argument, but neither you nor Manny were the type of people to apologize, so you refrained.

“Any sight of them yet?” You asked as your eyes trailed to the wall of windows facing the lake - endless darkness, no lights for miles and miles. Not even the shine of the stars and reflection of the moon was visible through the heavy snowfall, which caused a wave of stress to roll up your spine; the weather hadn’t let up in the slightest.

“No.” You looked back at Manny, studying his face as best you could with the harsh light and shadows obscuring it. A sigh left you as he slowly crossed the room, “They’ll be okay.”

His tone wasn’t terribly convincing, but you were under the impression that he was saying it in an attempt to reassure the both of you. As he drew closer, you held his gaze, realizing that - despite everything - his deep brown eyes were a comforting sight right now. So, you straightened your shoulders, bolstering yourself to the best of your ability.

“They’ll be okay.” You repeated with far more conviction than Manny had, though you were still trying to make yourself believe it. For a long, tense moment, the two of you stood there in silence until Manny dropped his gaze in consideration.

“Let’s go back upstairs,” he instructed simply. You knew without him saying so that the high ground made him feel safer - from there he could see anyone coming, friend or foe. So, you nodded in agreement, following after him until the two of you were back in the top floor suite that was your temporary camp.

The two small flashlights you had were barely useful with how heavy the blizzard had gotten outside, beams illuminating your respective supply bags, shifted furniture, a small stack of shockingly pristine blankets sat atop a chair. You raised a brow at Manny, but he didn’t notice the look.

“Where the hell did you find those?” You questioned, because they definitely weren’t here earlier.

Manny knelt over his bag, steadying his flashlight between his shoulder and cheek as he dug through his belongings, “Searched some of the other rooms. Guess hotels used to keep them in plastic, so they were covered all this time.”

“Plastic?” You muttered to yourself, before determining that maybe it was a cleanliness thing and moving on; you had been far too young to remember what the world was like before it collapsed. Walking up behind Manny, you peered over his shoulder; he was digging out what food you two managed to find before the storm hit, which wasn’t much - mixed nuts, some kind of canned meat that you didn’t quite trust.

He held the bag of nuts up to you, “Hungry?”

Honestly, you weren’t. You probably should have been, but considering the stress that had been gnawing at you for hours, it didn’t seem possible for you to have an appetite right now. Glancing at your face, Manny must have read as much, shrugging as he closed his bag and situated himself in one of the chairs that he’d moved to face the window. Ripping open the bag, he scooped a handful into his mouth while gazing out into the haze of snow.

You stared at the back of Manny’s head, mindlessly studying his silhouette; there was strain in his shoulders, a slump to his posture. Was it because of his worrying over the rest of the crew, was it your fight earlier, was it something else entirely? You ruled it was most likely a combination of all the above.

Glancing towards your own bag, you began to make a mental list of all the stock you had between the two of you - the food, batteries, some scarce hygienic supplies, knives and guns and bullets. Did you still have fresh water? Would you run out of food while waiting out the weather? A surge of panic shot through you at all the variables that you simply couldn’t predict.

As if it would help anything, you clicked off your flashlight - at the very least, you could control how many batteries you blew through. So, you might be stumbling around in the dark for a while? There were far worse things than that. Manny either didn’t notice or care about the absence of an additional light, his own resting upon a table and shining into the room, casting harsh shadows across walls and furniture. You were nearly surprised that he wasn’t using it as a beacon for the others, but then again, it could just as easily be a beacon for less than desirable guests.

Swallowing down the anxious lump in your throat, you approached Manny, dragging over another heavy chair to sit beside him. Plopping down into it, you glanced over, but his gaze remained forward. You took the opportunity to study his profile - brow furrowed like it always seemed to be, jaw clenched, eyes intently staring into the dark night. Since you met him, Manny always seemed to have a wealth of tension in his body, like an animal ready to pounce if he ever had to.

Your gaze trailed down the length of his body studiously, his elbows rusting atop his knees, fingers knotted tightly together, heel tapping with that usual impatience you’d come to associate with him. Sympathetically, your brow turned down, as if you could suddenly see all his years of agitation and restlessness and irritation.

“Stop doing that.” Manny’s low voice surprised you; he still had yet to pull his eyes away from the flurry of snow.

Your expression knotted slightly, “Doing what?”

Did the corner of his mouth upturn ever so slightly? Maybe you were just seeing things. He sighed faintly through his nose, “Doing that thing you do.”

The confused furrow of your brow deepened. Sensing your confusion, a small huff left Manny as he finally swiveled his gaze towards you, straightening in his seat just a little.

“The way you watch people.” He said as if it were obvious, “It’s like you’re… seeing right through them, digging around in their heads until you figure them out.”

You could see, now that you were staring at each other, something akin to amusement in Manny’s eyes as he continued, “I’ve watched you do it dozens of times, but it’s different knowing that you’re doing it to me. I don’t like the idea of you seeing something that others aren’t supposed to.”

Suddenly self-conscious, you dropped your gaze, biting your lip, “I didn’t realize it was that… intense.”

“It’s why you’re good at what you do; you're observant. We wouldn’t be here without it.” He said almost dismissively, as if it pained him to give you anything even resembling a compliment. Despite your nerves, you smiled faintly to yourself, glancing back up at Manny through your lashes.

“I didn’t think anyone noticed. That I watch people, I mean.”

Manny worked his jaw in consideration, as if he had a response on his tongue but was hesitant to share it. Though, a moment later, he caved to his thoughts, “Not sure if anyone else has. Just me, far as we both know.”

That smile of yours grew just a little bigger, eyes narrowing slightly. Really, you wanted to ask him why and when he ever noticed it in the first place. Considering just how much he disliked you, you’d figured through the years that he’d want as little to do with you as possible.

As if reading your mind, Manny turned his gaze back out towards the sky; you could see the tightness in his expression even better now that he was looking away.

“So, what are we gonna do?” He asked firmly; he almost turned his eyes back towards you - you could see it in the faint twitch of his head - but he refrained.

You took a deep breath as you mulled it over. It’s probably been ten hours now without any sign of the crew, and the both of you were well beyond concerned about it. Per the rules, if they weren’t back in another two hours, then you and Manny should technically go looking for them. But considering the weather was only growing meaner and uglier, that seemed like the worst thing you could do right now.

You followed Manny’s lead, staring out at the heavy snow, listening to the harsh wind blasting against the building, rattling windows and paneling. You always seemed to run cold, but just the sound of the storm’s severity made you shiver.

“We wait out the night.” You finally said. You only briefly considered how strange it was that Manny was allowing you to make the calls, but then you figured it was his soldier mentality - he wasn’t the decision maker, though he was a devoted follower, “There’s nothing we can do with the weather like this. We rest, we prep, we head out once the sun’s up, and we find them. Storm can’t last forever.”

For a long stretch, the two of you sat in agreeable silence, watching the snow fall for lack of anything better to do. Briefly, you wished you hadn’t forgotten that paperback downstairs - didn’t matter how bad it was, it would have at least given you something to do.

You tried not to let your gaze drift back towards Manny, wary of making him feel uneasy under your eyes again, but you couldn’t help stealing glances. From his hard set brow to his lips, down to his tense hands and bouncing knee; if anything, he could use something to keep him preoccupied even more than you could.

“When you searched the rooms,” you started simply for the sake of creating conversation again, “did you find anything else? Anything we can use?”

Manny shrugged as if none of it mattered, “Couple bars of soap, bottle of water, half a dozen bibles.”

The both of you huffed out a faint laugh, “Well, if I’m feeling really desperate for something to read, I guess I know where to look.”

Manny glanced back towards you, looking you up and down once, “What, already finish that stupid book you’ve been carrying around?”

You gave him a teasing glare, “Forgot it downstairs.”

He hummed quietly, “Must not have been that good… If you want, we can go back and get it.”

A surprised smile graced your lips at Manny’s offer; you weren’t expecting such a simple kindness from him. Though you considered it for a moment, you shook your head, “We should stay put.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, making a measly attempt at relaxing in his seat. Another beat of silence passed between you, “What was it about?”

Your brow furrowed, another half-assed laugh leaving you, “Oh, you must be bored if you’re asking about some romance novel.”

Manny laughed as well, “What else are we gonna talk about? The weather?”

You gave him a faux affronted look, though you appreciated his ability to joke about the one thing causing you both intense stress. There was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite place, almost companionship or admiration or something else you couldn't name. Grinning, you, too, settled into your seat, curling up to keep your body heat in; if it got any colder, you’d be bundling up in every single blanket the two of you had.

“It was some old-timey story,” You started, trying to find the right word, “not, uh, Victorian, but something else like it. The guy’s a lord or a duke, butting heads with his love interest the entire book. The tension was pretty good, all things considered.”

You looked back towards Manny, chewing at your lower lip as you recalled the plot. Remembering what was next, you diverted your gaze bashfully, “I got distracted somewhere after the wedding - hard to focus on it while being worried outta my mind over everyone else. Things were just about to get sexy, too.”

Manny snorted slightly, “I thought those books were all sex.”

You shrugged with an amused grin, “Guess not this one. Maybe that’s what the second half is gonna be. Might have to grab it before we leave tomorrow, and let you know how filthy things get.”

“Looking forward to it.” He joked, laughing smally in his chest, “Might just have to borrow it once you’re done.”

“Oh, you’ll love it.” You continued to jest, finding ease in the calm between you two, your anxieties briefly lifted as you laughed together.

A huge gust of wind blew against the building, causing the windows to rattle again; from another room, you heard glass break, shards tinkling to the floor, and with it the suite was suddenly colder. You and Manny both straightened in your seats as a door creaked, swaying back and forth with the draft.

Cursing under your breath, you rose to your feet, feeling Manny a step behind you, following the sound of groaning hinges till you found the culprit. One of the bedroom windows had already been cracked, and it finally gave in under the strain of the storm.

You peered into the room, eyes having adjusted to the dark just enough to make out the shine of snowfall and glass littering the floor. Backing up, you bumped into Manny’s chest, not realizing how close he’d been behind you; muttering a quick apology, you yanked the door closed, hoping that the latch was still intact enough that you wouldn’t have to worry. Again, you shivered - were you actually cold, or was it simply because you knew the harsh weather had gained one more small way to seep into the building?

You and Manny were still practically standing on top of each other, so he must have noticed the tremble of your shoulders or the clatter of your teeth. He tugged up the collar of your jacket again, checking that it was zipped up all the way; you would have thought it intimate if it weren’t for the harsh, instinctive way that he did it.

“You can’t be that cold all the time; been shivering like a wet cat since we left Seattle.” His tone seemed mildly jesting, yet there still seemed to be something mean about it.

“Shut up, I’m fine.” You bit back, brushing past him, “We should check the other bedrooms; probably best to just close everything up in case any more windows decide to give up on us.”

You didn’t know what hotels or resorts were supposed to be like, but you knew this suite was big, considering it’s four bedrooms and full kitchen; you’d read somewhere about deluxe rooms, or something like that, so now you knew what the hell that was describing.

Splitting up, you both checked the rooms, closing each of the doors as you went. This place seemed sturdy, but it was still nonetheless worn away by time. Returning to the front hall, you checked the front door seal on the off chance that maybe the lock still somehow worked, though you were soon let down, as it was jammed and unable to be secured. You made a mental note that you two needed to be extra mindful before you turned your attention back towards Manny.

He’d left his flashlight atop a table, so you could only make out his silhouette; you had the feeling he was staring back at you, too. With a faint sigh, you tried to find the pile of blankets he’d set aside earlier.

“We should try to get some sleep.” You instructed, despite the fact that you were wide awake. Though, curling up in all those blankets sounded nice, and maybe you’d finally be warm. 

“You rest.” Manny answered with a small shake of his head, “I’ll take first watch just in case; wake you up in a few hours.”

He had a point - considering there were only two of you, it wouldn’t be wise for you both to drop your guard. But you nonetheless protested, “I can take watch, I’m wide fucking awake as it is.”

You heard him sigh, probably irritated with you yet again, “Then I guess we’re not sleeping at all tonight.”

“Manny--”

“I’ll sleep when I’m tired.” He interrupted, returning back to that damn chair of his, “Do whatever you want.”

You stared as he settled back into his seat, squaring his shoulders; you couldn’t help but roll your eyes while crossing your arms at him. For a long stretch, the both of you were silent, though you were unable to hold back the question that you’d been wanting to ask since the two of you made it to the resort, “What’s your problem with me, honestly?”

You heard Manny laugh without humor. Turning his head, you could vaguely make out his profile, that familiar sharp nose and strong jaw. Suddenly, you didn’t like that you’d asked the question, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. Silence stretched out between you, longer than you would have liked - Manny wasn’t the type to hold his tongue.

Finally, he took a breath, his voice less assertive than you were expecting, “I don’t have a problem with you…”

Now, it was your turn to give a deriding laugh, “You sure?”

Manny shook his head and sighed, returning his attention back to the storm outside, much to your annoyance. You continued to stare at the back of his head for a few long moments, before giving up; guess you’d let him take the first watch after all. Considering that your two options right now were to either sleep or sit around stressing out, you may as well sleep.

So, you began to arrange some kind of make-shift bed out of the blankets and a couple pillows that weren’t completely moth-eaten. You pushed the tattered couch, using it as a barrier between you and the door, with Manny and the window opposite of it.

You worked quietly, settling into the blankets, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was to be wrapped up while fully clothed and on the hard floor. By now, you should have been used to this kind of sleeping arrangement, but maybe the stress and tension were just causing every little thing to bother you.

“Hey,” Manny urged in a hushed whisper. You knew for a fact you hadn’t been sleeping long because you could feel the groggy discomfort in your head. Groaning, you stirred, realizing that you could feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder, “You good?”

Your expression knotted as you came back to consciousness. The darkness was the same now as it had been when you lied down, though at some point Manny had clicked off his flashlight. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you tried to find him in the shadows, tugging at the blankets as the cold somehow seemed to penetrate right to your core. Your voice came out hoarse and whiny, “What?”

“You were moaning in your sleep.” He explained, fingers squeezing your shoulder faintly as you shuddered from the cold, “Jesus, you still cold under all that?”

“Shut up…” You groaned, already wide awake again. That was the nature of living like this, always moving and on high alert - rest and relaxation were an impossibility, “I’m fine.”

Manny sighed before clicking his tongue decisively. He took his hand back, and you could make out the way he brushed it across his forehead and eyes as if he was already feeling peeved at you all over again.

“Scooch.” He instructed.

“Huh?”

Another irked sigh left him, “Make room. You’ll do better with some body heat.”

You scoffed, “Don’t, it’s fine--”

“Just do it.”

With an exasperated huff, you shuffled over, tugging and shifting the blankets around yourself as Manny sat beside you. Under your breath, you grumbled incoherently, growing tense at the feel of his body settling in right there next to yours, shoulder bumping against yours. He rested his back upon the uncomfortable floor, laying like a board as you continued fussing with the blankets as some measly form of distraction.

But you knew you couldn’t be avoidant forever, so you eventually forced yourself to lie back, body just as rigid as Manny’s beside you. Your arm brushed his, and you attempted to shuffle away.

“Will you stop moving?” He urged, pushing closer to you intentionally, “Defeats the purpose, I’m trying to help regulate your temperature.”

“I told you I was fine.”

“You’ve been chattering all damn night,” Manny pressed his arm against yours, knee nudging you as he grumbled in irritation, “Be thankful I didn’t suggest skin-to-skin…”

Much to your chagrin, you felt a small jolt through you at the idea, your imagination too vivid for your own good sometimes. Picturing - even if just for a brief moment - the feel of Manny’s bare skin on top of yours, warm hands and tangled legs, mouth exploring every inch…

“Gross.” You spat out despite that obnoxious little sensation that stirred in your stomach. No, you were not about to picture Manny, of all people, in a compromising position like that. Maybe that stupid paperback had gotten to your head - after all, you didn’t read quite far enough to get to the good stuff, leaving you hungry to know what happened next.

It was like you could feel the way Manny’s eyes rolled at you as he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. You did the same, glowering up at the ceiling as if it had personally offended you.

For a long couple of minutes, the two of you stayed put, like two stubborn children unwilling to come to an agreement. Not that you would admit it, but having him there next to you did help warm you up, though you may also have your own dirty mind to blame for the flesh of heat through your body.

As the wind picked up even more aggressively outside, the creaking and rattling of the building around you sent another shudder through your body. Dutifully and without hesitation, Manny inched closer to you in response; you hoped the way you leaned towards his touch was subtle enough for him not to notice.

“We cool?” Manny asked in a low tone, causing your brows to raise.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because it sorta seems like we never are.” He countered instantly, as if he had guessed exactly how you would respond. In your periphery, you could feel the way he turned his head to gaze at your profile, which caused you to tense up even more. An unamused laugh passed through his lips, faintly fluttering against your cheek; you had to refrain from sighing at its warmth, “You never really liked me. Sometimes it seems like you can barely tolerate me.”

Surprised, you turned your head as well, trying to make out his expression in the dark, “Says the guy who hates me.”

This time, you shivered with nerves, though Manny couldn’t have known the difference, as he tried to press closer to you again. He didn’t answer for a brief moment, mulling over his response before muttering dismissively, “Hate you? No mames…”

“Oh, come on,” feeling wide awake now, you rolled onto your side, propping your head in the palm of your head, “for five years we’ve argued over stupid shit, poking at each other all the time. What else am I supposed to think?”

You could vaguely see Manny’s lips turn down in consideration before he teased, “Maybe I just like arguing with you? Keeps things interesting.”

“Yeah right,” you laughed while shaking your head, “Why you so worried about it all of a sudden?”

This time, the pause between you was different, hesitant and strained. Though you couldn’t quite discern Manny’s expression in the dark, his head turned down slightly, jaw flexing. Something about it made you uneasy.

His voice was just above a whisper, serious and contemplative, “Well, on the off chance that something bad happened out there…”

He briefly stalled, as if he didn’t want to finish the sentence. It gave you just enough time to let the words sink in, the weight of them heavy upon you. Yes, for all you knew, all of your companions could be dead or sick or buried in snow out there. For all you knew--

“--you might be all I have left.” Manny’s confession had a somber quality to it, causing a pressure in your chest that was a confused mess of dismay and want and unease. You sucked in a breath, trying to maintain your calm.

Because Manny was right. You might be all he has left, just as much as he might be all you have left. The past few years aside, what would you two do if it were only you? Despite being able to keep a level-head, despite being rational, you couldn’t help but entertain those fears; in order to stay sane, you also had to be able to look into the mouth of the beast, so to speak.

In all this time, your group had never been separated this long unless it had been planned - for five long years, the last of the Fireflies had become the closest thing you had to family.

“Manny,” you whispered reassuringly, leaning towards him to make your point, chest lightly pressing against his shoulder and arm, “everyone’s okay. You and me, we’re good together; if they can’t find us, we’ll find them. And if for some fucking reason it is just you and me now, we’ll take care of each other.”

He faintly laughed, the sound uncertain, his warm breath tickling your cheeks again, “Like we always do…”

“I haven’t let you die yet,” you teased, hoping a bit of levity might put him at ease.

“I’m sure you thought about it at least once.” He quipped.

“Well, only when you were being really annoying.” You smiled contently, appreciating the sincerity between you two. With Manny, you’d always put up fronts or used jokes against one another - really, you’d never had much of a serious one-on-one conversation, even after all this time. There was another charged pause between you.

“I never hated you, you know.” Manny’s tone was so frank and warm and… perhaps affectionate, strange as that seemed.

You startled as his hand brushed your shoulder - you were so focused on his face that you hadn’t realized he moved. His fingers slid carefully along your collarbone, hesitating at the base of your neck; your body became tense, taken aback by the knot in your chest, by the tenderness of his touch. What the hell was this about?

With a sharp, sad breath, you leaned back, hoping Manny would allow his hand to fall away from you. Instead, he gently pressed his palm to the side of your neck, keeping you close, “Don’t.”

You could feel the intensity of his eyes staring at you, fingers lightly flexing against your skin, “Don’t what?”

Shaking your head, you tried to calm the skip of your heart, the spike of nerves that swelled in your body. It was like a surge of heat from head to toe, a part of you aching for it while another part wishing to get away from it.

“We’re not doing the ‘all hope is lost’ thing. Don’t project feelings onto me that aren’t there, it isn’t fair to either of us.” You managed to sound more assured than you felt, your resolve already wavering.

You never ever hated Manny, either. Of course you never hated him; you wouldn’t have tolerated his bullshit otherwise. Yes, the two of you bickered and poked fun at each other, threatening to trade foraging partners when one of you was particularly irksome to the other. But neither of you ever followed through with it, because at the end of the day, neither of you would ever want to work with anyone else.

You and Manny fit together. He was resourceful, you were knowledgeable; he knew when to act first, and you knew when to plan ahead. You’d learned to read each other without speaking a single word; how to fight together seamlessly when shit went south. So what, you’d never had a serious, heartfelt conversation, even after years working side-by-side? Didn’t the knowing glances and elbow jabs and shared laughs make up for that? Hell, you knew for a fact that no one understood you like Manny did, and vice versa.

And, fuck, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

“I’m not doing that.” Manny insisted in that tone you knew so well - earnest and cross, adamant because he didn’t want to be brushed off. Allowing his hand to fall, he propped himself up, resting his elbows on the floor to be eye level with you.

“Aren’t you, though?” You argued, though your tone had no conviction to it, “All this time and you wait till now to, what, make a move?”

Manny scoffed and shook his head, but it seemed a measly attempt to protect himself rather than a reflection of any upset he felt. He took a deep breath, his attentive eyes searching your face candidly, “You ever think that maybe I’ve liked you this whole time, nena?”

The question caused you to inhale sharply, an anxious jolt shooting through your chest. Your mouth hung slightly ajar as you tried to believe him before you swallowed your nerves, asking quietly, “This whole time?”

Manny shifted before reaching towards you again, thumb brushing along your jaw before his hand tentatively returned to the back of your neck; a very faint, unamused laugh escaped him, “Think about it?”

And you were. You tried to recall all the times you two argued, only for you to realize he had a charmed glint in his eyes; all the times he was the first person you looked to whenever things went bad. When being in each other’s space went from being a necessity to being a comforting familiarity; when Nora started mocking the two of you for acting like an old married couple.

Those times you’d catch Manny staring at you, only for him to look away. How he’d whisper a stupid joke in your ear that he didn’t want anyone else to hear. Those little unnecessary touches - a hand at the small of your back, knees brushing when you sat side-by-side despite there being more than enough room for you both. You’d wake up sometimes in the middle of the night with an extra blanket draped over you. Or on foraging hunts when Manny would bring you a little something just because he thought you might like it.

Fuck, you were an idiot. How was it all so painfully obvious, yet managed to go completely over your head all this time?

A laugh of realization and disbelief escaped you, yet it was also a laugh of relief - like some weight you weren’t even aware of had finally been lifted from your shoulders.

“I’m so stupid…” You muttered, shaking your head at yourself.

Sensing your shift in attitude, your walls coming down, Manny jested quietly, drawing just that little bit closer to you, “Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but…”

You giggled again nervously, rolling your eyes and biting your lip. Your nerves were like an electric current, static through your limbs, heart pounding in your chest. Hesitantly, you reached towards Manny, gently resting your hand to his chest, fingers splaying over his collarbone. To your relief, he leaned into the touch, resting his forehead carefully against yours while taking in a deep breath.

“For the record, I never hated you, either.” You murmured. Manny’s grip tightened ever so slightly on the back of your neck.

“I know.”

His mouth found yours urgently, a surprised hum rising in your throat; he tasted bitter and sharp, utterly intoxicating as you savored him. You could feel Manny’s smile against your lips, charmed by your reaction as his fingers flexed eagerly on your skin. Pressing closer, you wound your arms around his neck, kissing him as if you’d been starved and he was the only thing that could satiate you.

The two of you were in-sync just as you always were, hands groping, mouths insistent, bodies slotting together as Manny laid you back on the pile of blankets, his weight atop you warm and comforting like he belonged there. Just like all your silent glances, it was as if you knew what the other was thinking, moving together as his tongue slid across your lower lip, your hands tugging desirously at his curls.

Shamelessly, you opened your mouth to him, tongues swirling together as you moaned; Manny’s grip on you grew tighter, incited by the sound. He blindly groped around, fingers brushing over your breast and collarbone till he found the zipper of your coat, yanking it down in one fluid motion before sliding both hands inside it. You arched into the touch, tugging faintly at his hair as a searing coil knotted in your stomach.

Manny groaned salaciously, pushing up the hem of your layered shirts, his touch a scorching fire on your skin. Your hips bucked, heart thumping wildly in your chest. Gliding your hands down his neck and chest, you fumbled with his coat as well, causing him to laugh into your mouth as you struggled with it. His breath hot against your face as he pulled back, sitting up on his heels to rip the layer away, your chest heaving as you watched. Manny’s hands were on you again in a flash, swooping in to capture your lips again.

Propping up on your elbows, you hastily pulled off your own winter coat, not willing to break away from the kiss again so soon. Once your hands were free, you slid them over Manny’s firm torso, humming contently at the feel of him.Sliding your hands beneath his shirts, your body tightened at the guttural sound in his throat, your fingernails grazing over his abs and sides amorously. His hips twitched against yours, causing you to sigh with want.

Manny’s hands traveled down your neck and chest and waist, grabbing as if desperate to feel every part of you all at once. He kissed you ardently before withdrawing his lips, blazing a hot trail along your jaw and neck, sucking at the sweet spot just above your collarbone; the mewl that left you was downright sinful, causing Manny’s faint laugh to vibrate against your skin.

“Oh, that’s the spot, huh?” He teased in a growl that made your body clench wantonly, back arching into his touch, “Should’ve done this years ago…”

Fuck yes he should have. You should have, instead of letting all this want and desire pent up inside you. You were ravenous for Manny’s touch, finally having tasted the forbidden fruit, nails digging into his sides just enough to draw a sigh from him, mouth continuing to nip along the expanse of your neck. You pushed his shirts up higher, desperate to feel every inch of his soft skin, to memorize each curve and blemish with your fingertips.

As Manny rolled his hips far too alluringly against yours, you keened and scratched your nails along his sides, spreading your legs so he could slot between them more easily. The press of him against your center was maddening, making you realize just how long it had been since anyone aside from yourself had touched you. Your pussy clenched with anticipation, Manny’s body making your head spin as you imagined all the things he could do to you.

You groaned incoherently as his teeth gently bit your skin; Manny went rigid for just a moment, enthralled by the sound before he continued ravishing your neck.

You insistently began to tug at his clothes, deciding there were far too many layers between you. It should not have been this erotic to help someone strip, yet his hot breath on your skin and the feel of his body flexing beneath your fingers was dizzying. When finally his chest was bare, Manny leaned back, allowing your hands to explore, although you quickly knotted your fingers in his hair again and drew his mouth back to yours. He smiled against your lips, hips grinding longingly in response.

Manny pulled back after one more sweet kiss, mouth dragging down your neck and chest, hands sliding your shirt up to your breasts to expose your abs to his frenzied lips. His teeth grazed over your stomach, kissing along the curves of your body as your hands tangled in his hair.

Reaching between you, Manny undid your pants swiftly, hooking his fingers into the waistband as his lips hungrily nipped at your skin, biting and sucking feverishly. Your eyes crossed, feeling just how bad that hickey would be later.

Manny gave your pants a quick tug down to your knees, finally breaking his lips away from your skin with an audible pop. Breathing deeply, he shuffled lower, nose grazing over your panties as he pulled at your pants again, helping you out of them before they were tossed carelessly aside. You inhaled sharply at his warm breath so very close to your center, wet and needy and waiting for him.

“Shit…” He muttered, lips brushing over the thin fabric of your panties, your hips rolling instinctively, “Not fair that you smell that good.”

The compliment made you whine hungrily, nails scratching through his hair. He pressed a kiss to the fabric between you, causing you to buck again with a gasp. Resting his hands firmly on your thighs, he trailed down that little bit further, breath hot and moist along your slit, causing your eyes to roll back. His fingers dug faintly into your flesh as he took in the smell of your desire, making you squirm with anticipation.

And then he pressed his tongue flat to your pussy, spit soaking through your already damp panties as you moaned unabashedly, causing Manny’s own hum to rock against you. Your grip on his hair tightened as he began to lap at you slowly, tip of his tongue flicking over your clit over and over, making your toes curl.

“Oh, fuck…” You muttered, grinding your hips against Manny’s mouth in time with the strokes of his tongue. Another growl sounded in his throat as he held your thighs firmly as if to keep the both of you at a slow, steady pace. Your body jolted when he teased at your entrance, the measly layer of fabric the only thing keeping you two apart and causing you frustration.

As if he could read your mind, Manny slid a hand up your leg, hooking a finger around the fabric of your panties and pulling them out of the way, his mouth pulling back a mere inch. His hot breath teased along your slit, making you ache for him.

A desirous sound of approval rumbled in his chest before Manny pressed his mouth to your pussy, causing you to yelp at the feel of his wet tongue bare against you. The hand on your thigh tightened its grip as he hungrily ate you out, mouth ravenously sucking on your clit, tongue diving between your folds insatiably. You threw your head back with a vulgar cry, already seeing stars as you rolled your hips greedily, causing Manny to splay his hand across your pelvis in an effort to hold you in place.

“Slow down, baby…” He groaned into your pussy, the roughness of his tone doing nothing to make you any less wet and desperate, especially when he went back to devouring you in the same breath. Your legs were already shaking on either side of his head, five long years making it damn near impossible to keep yourself from coming undone.

It was like an electric spark each time his tongue teased at your clit, your whimpers growing only more desperate and carnal. Your legs began to clench around him, forcing Manny to firmly grip both your thighs, fingers digging into your skin to keep you from tightening around his head. You trembled in his strong hold, rutting desperately against his mouth, the both of you moaning with a drunken pleasure.

“Oh god--!” You stuttered with a gasp, Manny’s mouth unrelenting on your clit, eating you out like you were his goddamn last meal, “Manny--!”

You felt him tense before his mouth grew even more frenzied, the sound of his name on your tongue sinful and encouraging. Your breath came out short and gasping and desperate, head swirling with bliss, body trembling as you rode his tongue closer and closer to your release.

And then you spiralled abruptly, cumming hard and intense as your body tightened, moans spilling from your lips like prayer. Manny lapped at your desire, taking another deep breath of you as his hands held so tight to your trembling thighs that you knew it would bruise. You shook in his hands, body melting as he continued to cruelly tease at your clit with his tongue, incoherent words of pleasure falling from your mouth.

When your hands finally untangled from his hair, Manny relented, pulling back to catch his breath as you rode the high of your orgasm, eyes crossed and head fuzzy. His nose brushed along your inner thigh, causing you to twitch; an airy laugh tickled against your skin in response.

“God…” He grumbled, resting his forehead against your leg for a moment. The distinct smell of sex reached you, sweaty and sweet and musky, as your chest heaved with steady breaths. Though your limbs felt weak, you gently brushed your hand over Manny’s curls, staring up at the ceiling as you composed yourself.

Manny began a slow crawl up your body, lips grazing over your skin wantonly until you were nose-to-nose, tasting your own sex in the air between you two. He firmly pressed his groin against your sensitive core, drawing a faint whimper from your lips, which he captured in a deep, impassioned kiss.

Your hands explored his body, delighting in the flex of his muscles, the heat of his skin. His tongue slid into your mouth zealously, tasting you with a deep moan. For the first time in days, you finally felt warm, sweat dampening the small of your back. Without breaking away from Manny’s lips, you began to tug your shirts up, only splitting for half a second so you could yank them over your head.

Manny cupped your breasts, squeezing eagerly and groaning as your nipples hardened under his touch. He drew his lips away, kissing down your neck until he could tenderly bite the soft flesh of your chest; your toes curled as he sucked another hickey to your skin, hooking your heels on the backside of his legs while rutting your hips again.

Satisfied with the bruise he left, Manny captured your lips fiercely, rolling his hips, his erection strained and beguiling within his pants. Your legs tightened either side of him, using the leverage to move with him, grinding against his cock slowly, drawing an illicit groan from his lips.

Manny grabbed firm hold of you, flipping your bodies around in one fluid motion to put you on top. Sitting up, he practically devoured your lips, the kiss sloppy and salacious. In his lap, you continued grinding your hips, arching your back as the friction caused you to whine, your sex dampening through your panties to his jeans.

God, the feel of him swollen and hard against your clit was mouthwatering, your pace growing more urgent and needy as Manny groped at you with feverish hands, squeezing and rubbing and scratching like he was afraid someone might steal you away from him. He reached around your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it away; prying his lips from yours, he took one of your peaked nipples into his hot mouth, tongue swirling and teeth grazing. You cried out, head falling back as you leaned into his touch, your pussy slick with want as your hips stuttered.

You muttered achingly as Manny fondled your breasts, his hips bucking needily beneath you as he growled with impatience. Your fingers knotted in his hair again, tugging just hard enough to make him hiss as you rut against him.

Feeling like a tightly wound coil again, you pried yourself off Manny, much to his protest, shuffling down his legs just enough to undo his jeans, pulling them away before crawling back to him. You cupped his erection through his boxers, sighing sharply at his size and girth; you gave him a gentle squeeze, causing him to groan while grinding himself into your hand. You began to stroke him through the underwear, hand slow and firm as it teased along his length, thumb running over his tip, hitting a spot he must have loved given the way he twitched and groaned.

You grabbed the waistband of the boxers and drew them down, the head of Manny’s cock bouncing against his stomach with a dull thump. You stroked him again, lightly squeezing as you went from head to hilt at a cruel pace, teasing along the vein on the underside of his length. As your hand began to bounce at a steady rhythm, Manny lied back, mouth ajar and eyes closed.

“Baby…” He grumbled, hips bucking up to meet your hand, causing his thigh muscle to tighten beneath your pussy, making you moan right along with him.

Giving into your impatience, you yanked off your panties, crawling over Manny so you could press a fierce kiss to his lips. As you tried to pull away, he cupped the back of your neck, tongue sliding into your mouth as he kissed you like you were the air he breathed, moaning desperately in his throat. His opposite hand slid between you, fingertips swirling your swollen clit and causing you to shiver.

When finally your lips broke apart, you were gasping for air, Manny’s cock twitching against your inner thighs, your knees slightly trembling thanks to the lazy winding of his fingers on your sex. The glint in his hooded eyes caused you to smile affectionately, repositioning yourself till you were centered over his erection, his hands gliding along your thighs and hips and waist like you were something coveted.

Manny dug his fingers into your hip, grinding your wet pussy along the length of his cock, whispering endearments so low that you could barely make them out. Steadying your hands upon his firm chest, the friction between you nearly made you whine. Manny took a deep breath as he shifted you so that he was lined up with your entrance, the two of you lingering for a moment as you stared into each other’s faces.

And then you slowly lowered yourself onto him, groaning in unison as you stretched around his girth. You were so wet already, taking him hilt deep with a shudder at the feel of him inside you. Manny held still, composing himself as you adjusted to his size - five years without dick make you feel like a damn virgin all over again, the twitch inside you causing a yelp of pleasure to jump from your lips.

You stayed like this a moment longer before you unhurriedly rut against Manny’s hips, another raptured cry escaping you at the pressure against your clit. Manny’s grip became even more firm against your skin, deep breaths inflating his chest as he ground up into you, finding that sweet spot deep inside you far, far too easily. Your hips moved together, jerky and uncoordinated, desperately chasing the delectable sensation coursing between your bodies.

Manny’s hands drift around to your ass, squeezing encouragingly as he rolled his hips, your name hot on his tongue. He lifted you just a couple inches off of him, cupping your rear so he could thrust up into you, skin clapping together while your nails dug into his pecs. He hit you nice and deep over and over again, the thrust of his hips growing more unyielding with each mewl and cry that slurred from your mouth. Fuck, his dick was intoxicating, the way it stretched you out and filled you up, making your eyes cross and your limbs trembled.

Hungry for more, you began to bounce on your knees, stuttering until you matched Manny’s rhythm, bracing your hands either side of his head to get a deeper angle. You exhaled sharply as he buried himself inside you, thrusts growing feverish, skin slick with sweat. A growl rose deep in his chest, craning his neck to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing and tongues swirling. You moaned into his mouth, rolling your hips erratically.

Manny’s greedy hands trailed back up your body, fondling your tits, tweaking your nipples between his fingers. A fierce little “come here” rumbled in his throat, drawing your chest towards him so he could bite at your flesh again. The new angle of your hips caused pressure on your clit that made you cry out, body shuddering with pleasure as Manny drove his cock deep inside you over and over again.

“Fu-uck--!” You whined loudly, grinding your hips as Manny became more frantic, thrusts hard and lecherous and like a drug. His breath was hot against your breasts, your back arching as his hands explored your body, gripping firmly at your waist as he pushed just that little bit deeper.

Manny drew his knees up to press against your back, using the angle to bury himself in you, hand trailing down to massage your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your hips faltered with a yelp as you groped at his arms to keep yourself steady.

He rut his hips hard into you, the slick sound of your skin slapping together causing your pussy to clench tight around him, drawing another hiss from between his teeth. Your body became frenzied, hips rolling and toes curling, a string of gasps spilling from your mouth as his thumb returned to swirling your clit, sending jolts of desire through your body.

“Fuck, you’re falling apart, huh?” Manny growled with a dazzling grin, enthralled by the sight of you as he fought not to come undone himself, “Taking me so good…”

God, his voice made you squirm and moan, riding his cock with a hungry zeal, bouncing on shaky legs as your pussy tightened around him. Drool began to pool under your tongue, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your pace grew sloppy and graceless.

“That’s right, baby…” Manny breathed out, applying more pressure to your clit, stilling the upward thrusts of his hips so you could ride him until you fell apart. You bounced and rutted, chasing the cusp of another orgasm, nails racking harshly along his body before digging into his thighs, which still pressed firmly into your back, using him as leverage for your rapacious grinding.

You managed to find Manny’s intense gaze in the dark, the two of you staring intensely at one another, eyes hooded and mouths hanging open. Under his breath, he murmured a string of “come on, come on” like a mantra, thumb continuing its unrelenting pattern on your clit as your legs began to shake, nails scratching at his skin forcefully enough that you dared to draw blood.

And then it was like a white hot flash of lightning, an obscene cry leaping from your mouth as you clenched tight around Manny’s cock, throwing your head back as everything within you trembled, your release frenzied and wild.

You shook while bracing yourself, orgasm rocking your body, stars behind your eyes as a weak string of moans fell from your tongue. Manny held you tight, squeezing your skin in his hands, watching you with utter awe and ecstasy, the clench of your soaked pussy drawing guttural moans from his chest. His cock twitched inside you, desperate for release, but he resisted the urge so he could focus on how goddamn incredible you looked cumming all over his dick.

When you finally floated down from cloud nine, your body racked with pleasure. Manny’s cock was still buried inside you, rock hard and twitching, sending shocks of euphoria through your body. The tension accompanying your orgasm melted away, legs like pudding as you balanced your hands atop his chest again.

“Fucking hell…” Manny murmured, enthralled by you. A goofy smile graced your lips as you slowly lowered your lips back towards his, moaning into his mouth at the way his full cock shifted inside you. The kiss was deep and sloppy, breathing each other in with such ardent want, molding together as if you were made for it.

Manny gave a slow roll of his hips, hands exploring your hot skin as you continued to whimper against his lips. Slowly, he pushed up inside you, delighting in your gasps and spasms, his tongue delving into your mouth again with desperate desire. You held his jaw tenderly, pulsing around his thrusts; eventually, he pulled back, lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

“Got one more in you, cariño?” He whispered wickedly, smiling triumphantly as you moaned, walls clenching around him again. He was so close, feeling how desperately his body wanted release. When you nodded, nose bumping gently with his, Manny’s arms encircled you, flipping you onto your back faster than you could blink, the motion and accompanying friction making you gasp sinfully.

Manny sat back on his heels, hands stroking down your legs, cock still buried inside you as he positioned your bodies. He spread your legs, pushing them up either side of you, hands holding your knees as he bottomed out, moaning huskily at the feel of you. He rolled his hips steadily, hitting deep inside your wet pussy, fingers digging into your skin. You grasped at the mess of blankets beneath you, body curving up to meet Manny’s thrusts as skin slapped skin, hair sticking to your sweaty neck and forehead.

Manny grunted praises through his teeth, slamming deep into you with rapid strikes. Already so sensitive after your orgasms, you moaned wildly at the way he slid in and out of you, body starting to tremble again. Manny pushed your legs even higher and wider, eyes closed and brow furrowed as he used your body, burying into you with a hungry fervor.

You threw your head back as your thighs tried to clench either side of Manny’s torso, but his grip was firm and strong, holding you in place as your entire body shook with intense pleasure. His thrusts grew even more insistent, fast and deep and mouthwatering.

“That’s right, baby--” He hissed as he slammed into you, “so fucking good--”

His words made you whine delectably, pussy clenching around him, rhythm unrelenting. His breath began to come out in deep shudder, hips stuttering on the edge of release as he stole a few more deep thrusts before abruptly pulling out of you.

It was a shock to be so empty all of a sudden, a loud cry leaving you; in the next moment, Manny was spilling warm seed onto your stomach, his groans overlapping with yours. His hands shook as he clung tight to your legs, his head lulling forward as the last of him pooled on your hot skin, sweat gliding down his taunt muscles.

For a long beat, neither of you moved as you caught your breath. Eventually, you lowered your legs either side of him, reaching trembling hands up to cup Manny’s jaw as he balanced above you, swooping in to steal a needy kiss. The both of you moaned at the taste of each other, your body still yearning for him despite the three orgasms he already gave you. Pulling back, he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours, breathing you in deeply for a minute.

“Be right back.” Manny whispered roughly, grunting as he pushed back on his heels before rising to his feet, legs still shaky. You hummed in acknowledgement, watching his silhouette move through the dark, listening as he rummaged in his bag and opened a canteen. He returned moments later, kneeling beside you and pressing a damp cloth to your stomach, causing you to faintly gasp at the chill of it cleaning your skin of his mess.

“Thanks,” You giggled, cock-drunk and giddy, once Manny was done. He sat down beside you again, huddling himself in the blankets as a sweet laugh met your ears.

“For what - the mindblowing sex?” He teased, to which you gave him a half-assed punch in the arm, which only made him laugh again.

“Shut up, asshole.” You smiled fondly, eyes fluttering shut contently.

Your body had finally relaxed, a thin layer of sweat glistening over your skin, which finally allowed for the blizzard outside to chill you to the bone again, your teeth chattering. Looking about in the dark, it was hard to tell where exactly any of your clothes had ended up, but before you could even crawl away from the comfort of your blankets, Manny gently grabbed your arm.

He tugged you into him, muttering against your hair, “Worry about it in the morning.”

“And freeze in the middle of the night?” You countered, though being curled in his side and huddled together was doing wonders for your temperature. It reminded you of what he said earlier, which already felt lifetimes away, causing you to huff out a small laugh, “Guess we’re doing the skin-to-skin thing after all, huh?”

Manny laughed, too, arms tightening around you as he grumbled again, echoing your words back at you, “Shut up, asshole.”

“Sheesh, look at these two.”

A voice and accompanying snickers pierced through your unconscious, causing you to start abruptly, instinctively reaching for your knife that was nowhere to be found. The warm body beside you shot up with a gasp, seemingly fumbling around for something as well, which caused even more raucous laughter.

And then, of course, your mind caught up with you as you recalled last night, eyes straining to open against the harsh sunlight reflecting off the snow outside.

“So, this is what you were doing instead of searching for us?” Nora’s familiar voice taunted, your vision still heavy with sleep. Mortification shot through you like a bullet, feeling your neck and ears grow hot as you slumped under the blankets as if to hide your shame.

Manny’s body was warm beside you, his morning voice gravelly; despite yourself, it caused a faint stirring in your stomach, “Fuck off.”

The sheet over your head was tugged away, Owen’s teasing face there to greet you as you shivered at the cold, “Aw, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”

“Stop…” You whined sleepily, crossing your arms over your chest on the off-chance that you may end up more exposed than you would like.

Eyes adjusted to the light, you looked from one face to the next - everyone seemed to be amused, even Abby, who tried to hide that behind a glare. Fuck, this is just what you needed first thing in the morning.

Manny clicked his tongue, pulling a blanket around his bare shoulders and torso, “We were gonna look for you today.”

“Just had to get some first?” Mel asked with a laugh, rolling her eyes before shooting you a wink.

“Get dressed.” Abby chimed in before either of you could rise to the bait. Curling into yourself, you pressed closer to Manny to steal some of his body heat, “We gotta make some progress before another storm hits. Right?”

She looked at you with raised brows, as if you could simply predict the weather like some kind of magician. You sighed while weakly nodding, attempting to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah, yup, before another storm.” You answered roughly, raising your hand to wave it in the direction of the door, “Will you all go please?”

“Oh, she wants some privacy.” Nora continued to tease, even as she began to slowly back up towards the door, the others following suit.

“Five minutes.” Abby instructed, still fighting to hold in her own mirth at your predicament, “Any longer and we’ll drag you out.”

You and Manny watched as they trickled out of the room. Nora stopped to shoot you a big thumbs up, causing another wave of laughter through the group as they closed the door behind them.

Alone again, Manny looked down at you, dark stare taking in your disheveled appearance with a faint smirk. Sighing heavily, you sat up, shivering as the cold air hit your bare back, shoulders shrugging up to your ears.

“Fuck!” You chattered, catching the mischievous glint in Manny’s eyes, your brow knotting, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I mean,” he leaned towards you as if to whisper a secret, “we can do a lot in five minutes…”

You laughed abruptly at his insinuation, rolling your eyes as you leaned in as well, lips lingering just out of reach, “Shut up and put your clothes on.”

. .

Taglist | @flaneurpastel

[lordyitsjunie]

Lunch Break

pairing: no outbreak!Joel x F!Reader

summary: joel forgets his lunch, you decide to take it to him.

warnings: MDNI, semi-public sex(??idk you two fuck in his truck), Joel is obsessed with you, little bit of a plot(really its just smut lol), also listen ik this is texas but we're gonna pretend like it gets really cold and snowy for the sake of the plot, also Sarah doesn’t exist in this universe:(, universe where unprotected sex≠pregnancy, cowgirl, pussy pronouns(bc he’s polite with it) lmk if im missing anything first time writing smut so sorry if its awful lmao

wc: 7.488k

Mid-November sunlight picketed the kitchen floor through the blinds when you finally found yourself downstairs. Broad strokes of sunlight letting you know that you spent far too long in the shower—although not entirely your fault, you still groan internally at the fact that the morning had slipped through your fingers.

Half-dressed and stumbling into the kitchen with one hand entangled in your hair and the other reaching for the fridge, your eyes flicking briefly to the counter where a mug sat filled with coffee and untouched, done up in the way you liked and in the ceramic mug you used that matched Joel’s. How he found time to still make you a cup of coffee when he’d been rushed to get dressed and barely had a spare second to make himself coffee, you didn’t know. But it warmed your heart nonetheless.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, really. Not when you woke up with him between your legs, glancing up at you with his beard shiny with a healthy mixture of his spit and your arousal, giving you a glimpse of how long he had been down there savoring your taste in broad strokes. You knew you’d linger in his mind throughout the day, knew to strain your ears to hear the front door burst open around one or two in the afternoon when he’d come home for his lunch break instead of eating the food you made for him—

The lunch that was sitting right on the edge of the counter. Still cold, partly unzipped like he’d flipped it open to see what you made for him. Your shoulders deflate at the sight and for a moment, you choose to ignore it. Sipping from your coffee mug while glaring at the lunch bag like that would make it disappear and reappear into Joel’s hands. Because you definitely were not debating bringing it to him in almost twenty degree weather.

The idea imbeds itself into the back of your mind and instead, you to go through your whole morning routine of pretending to bother with breakfast by tossing a few slices of bread into the toaster. The floor was cold beneath your feet, your limbs were loose, head still in the clouds, moving more on instinct than anything as you lifted the mug to your lips and listened to the quiet tick of the timer on the toaster.

Him waking you up between your legs. To him pulling you into the shower with him to save water, or some bullshit, because however long you two were in there definitely couldn’t have been beneficial to your water bill or the goddamn planet. Especially when he hiked one of your legs around his hips as he pressed you back against the shower wall, your moans drowning out the incessant buzzing of his phone left on the nightstand by the bed, vibrating with a collection of colorful voicemails from his brother wondering where the hell he was.

The morning was practically gone by the time you managed to start your day, lost by the time Joel kept you in bed or in the shower for, though you couldn't find yourself complaining. Chewing on the half-burnt toast, your eyes flick towards the clock hanging over the sink while tossing around the idea of actually leaving the warm confinement of your home to brave the weather.

Your body decided for you; finding yourself halfway up the stairs after finishing off the toast and coffee. Tights beneath one of the dresses you knew Joel loved seeing you in—the one that was borderline inappropriate for this kind of weather and moving a certain way could have your ass showing. Feet tucked into thick boots, and your hair pinned back, you finally left the sanctuary of your warm home with Joel’s lunch bag tucked in one hand and your keys in the other.

And as unassuming as it seemed, snow piled up in the road from the night before and you’d be right to expect ice hidden beneath the pure white blanket, ready to make you bust your ass and break a leg in your attempt to deliver your husbands lunch. And by the time you arrived, the truck had warmed to a comfortable temperature, making it difficult to want to leave. Your eyes scanning the horizon as far as you could see in search for Joel, but you couldn't find him. Must be inside, you think to yourself, hoping he hadn't decided to instead go out to eat with his crew.

You figure, worst case scenario, Joel isn't here and you've got yourself a pre-made lunch. Bracing yourself for the harsh gust of wind, you unbuckle your seatbelt and reach over the center console for the bag sat in the passenger seat, before you're startled back into your seat when you hear a tap on the window. The fleeting thought of, shit, can I even park here? crossed your mind at the same time your heart jumped to your throat, before it was squashed when you saw the familiar slope of broad shoulders and dark hair pop into your vision.

Joel chuckled at your reaction, dimple making its short-lived appearance as he pulled the door open. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Oh, damnit Joel,” You breathe out, pressing a hand to your chest to ease your racing heart. “I was gonna surprise you—how’d you know I was here?”

With his arm resting on the window, Joel’s head dipped so he could watch you twist in your seat again once your heart had calmed some, reaching for the lunch bag sitting in the passenger seat. His eyes dropping down for a split second to shamelessly follow the rippling hem of your dress as it bunched up at your thighs from the movement, before he caught himself. “One of the guys saw the truck pullin’ up,” he clears his throat, using his free hand to adjust his jeans. “You’re tryin’ to surprise me?”

"You forgot your lunch," You explain, lips curling into a faux frown now that your little surprise was spoiled. Settling back into your seat with the lunch bag now resting against your thighs, you tilt your chin up at him. “Figured I’d be a good wife and bring it to ya.”

Joel grunted in response, fingers tapping against the cold frame of the door as his jaw worked, and you began to worry that the cold wasn’t the only thing beginning to make you uncomfortable. A heat crept in under your skin, settling low in your belly like it did this morning. Every cold gust of wind that hit your skin from the open door now felt like a reprieve, and you tried your best to ignore it by shifting your legs out of the footwell as you turned towards him, knees brushing against his thighs.

"So you came all this way just so I wouldn't starve?" He guessed, moving his hand from the door to scratch at his chin, unable to hide the way his cheek twitched at just the idea that you had thought of him—even if you’d argue that he was always on your damn mind.

"'Course," You mutter with a shrug, "Figured you forgot it ‘cause you were kinda busy this morning.”

He gave a low, mhm, in response, “Was I?” as if he didn’t remember. Fuck, how could he forget? The way you felt beneath his hands, still waking up with the sunrise; skin pillowed, warm and soft, squirming with every brush of his beard against your thighs, and, oh, the way you sounded as his lips closed around-

You click your tongue, confirming what you both already knew with a, yes, like you knew exactly what was going on in his head right now. Your fingers snagging the zipper of the lunch bag as your eyes followed the specks of pure white beginning to dot his hair as the snow fell around him. “Don't know how much longer we can get away with you coming home on your breaks before your guys start to get suspicious."

"Think they're already on to us," He sighed, casting a short glance back at the building he came from. It wasn’t unusual that he went home for his lunch breaks almost every day at this point, under the guise of left my food at home—little do they know that you are the food. A double edged sword, though, because as much as he loves knowing he gets to go home to you, he hated knowing it means he has to pull himself away from you again when his hour break was over. "Damn Tommy gave me lip the second he saw the truck pullin' in."

Your nose wrinkled at that fact and you couldn't quite keep the laughter contained behind your lips, "I'll try and be more discrete next time." You promise, jokingly. "park in the alley around the corner—make it less suspicious."

He hums a quiet, attagirl, that's just for you, while curling a finger beneath your chin to bump it affectionately. It makes your heart hiccup, causes heat to pour into your cheeks, forces your eyes away from him for a split second that makes him smirk.

He gets your attention back though in the way he always does, pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he bent slightly at his knees to close the short distance between you two and catch your lips. He meant it to be just a quick, short kiss; one that bled the silent thank you for going out of your way to bring him food. But when you tried to pull back, it was impossible for him not to chase your lips for another.

You were struggling too, he could tell by the way your fingers gripped onto the lunch bag in your lap like it was a lifeline to keep yourself from reaching out for his belt. And he only parted when he felt his lungs begin to burn with the need for air. Swallowing any noise that may have threatened at the back of his throat as his thumb swiped over your chin once, then twice, making you shiver from something more than just the cold that stuck to your skin.

"Best damn lunch you've packed." He sighed.

You scoff, "Yeah, alright cowboy." Finally finding your voice after another pass of his thumb against your chin, nodding towards the now empty passenger seat. You weren't sure how long you could take his touch without needing more. Greedy, he'd call you. And you can't find it in yourself to disagree. "Y'gonna get in here and eat, or not?"

He withdrew his hand from you and tilted his wrist to check his watch, pretending to contemplate. If you remember the short glance you bothered to the clock on the way out of the house, it was nearing eleven-thirty when you left. Which meant it was probably inching past noon by now. "Think I can disappear for half-an-hour," He conceded, before looking back up at you through his dark lashes. "Least I can do since you drove all this way."

Shifting in your seat, you wave your hand, "Acting like it's not just a twenty minute drive." You dismiss, lightheaded and lips still tingling with the ghost of his.

"I'm serious," He continued, voice softened and head tilting slightly, his hand finding the hinge of your hips this time—big, warm. His thumb brushing along the bunched fabric in the same way it did to your chin. "You ain't need to come all this way just to bring me lunch, babygirl.”

But damn was he glad you did. As much as he loved getting to come home to you in the afternoons, getting a surprise visit from you at work was equally as appreciated. "As opposed to what, sitting at home, knowing my husband is starving?" You retort, though not unkind, just simply stating the fact that you hated even the idea of him going all day without eating.

He shrugged this time, a broad shoulder lifting and falling in one motion as he gently pinched your side. "Ain't like I don't always got a hot meal waitin' for me at home."

You snorted while simultaneously shoving the lunch bag into his chest to instead make your hands useful elsewhere—because heaven knows they'd follow right along with the lunch bag and slip underneath his shirt if you weren't careful. Choosing instead to turn the heat up some more. "Just get in the damn truck." You muttered, not daring to look at him for fear he'd be able to see how quickly he was able to get under your skin.

He was more than pleased with your reaction. Could hear the grin in his voice as he responded with a, yes ma'am, as his hand left your waist to catch the lunch bag before he nudged your legs back inside the truck and closed the door, rounding the front to the passenger side. He looked smug, and you hated it. That damn smirk curling at his lips whenever he had the upper-hand—which was a lot of the time—and made you squirm in your seat as he settled into the truck like nothing happened.

You almost had to force yourself to look away from him as he flicked the lunch bag open. How his hips lifted up in the seat as he adjusted himself, his jaw working as he ate the food you packed for him, groaning as his teeth sunk into the bread like it was the first form of sustenance he'd had all day—like your taste didn't still linger from this morning. You tried to focus instead on the heat that blasted in through the little vents of the truck, scaring off the chill that lingered beneath your skin in the form of goosebumps.

And it was quiet for the time being as he dug into the food—not awkward, just comfortable, and filled with something heavier. The silence broken every other second when he would groan, mumbling something about your food being somethin' else, all while oblivious to how uncomfortable you were growing, thighs squeezing together as if to try to stifle the flame he had started this morning with his mouth.

He wasn't even aware of what he was doing to you, that was the worst part, you think. How could he sit there looking so damn good, and not know the effect he had on you? The sleeves of his flannel hugging his arms, rolled to his elbows, and despite the cold weather, the collar of his undershirt was stained darker in it's color. His hair was ruffled in the way you knew he'd been running his fingers through it, leaving dark tresses sticking up in all different directions. It was unfair.

You thought maybe you could distract yourself with conversation. Telling him what you had planned for the day, talking like you knew you could because despite him scarfing down the food you brought him, he still listened. Responded with an occasional hum or a muffled, oh yeah?, but there was only so much you could say before you fell silent again. Watching, shifting to tuck one leg underneath you.

It didn’t take him long to realize you had gone quiet, while still feeling the weight of your gaze lingering on him as he ate, and when he turned his head towards you, he realized why: your cheeks flushed like they had been this morning, bottom lip caught between your teeth, your fingers plucking at the fabric of your tights. Your mind was somewhere else completely, and he didn’t even need to ask to know where.

“You hungry?” He broke the silence with the question he already knew the answer to, lifting his hand towards you in a silent offer for some of his food.

But you shook your head. He’d already anticipated your answer, yet his lips still quirked. The snow had started up again, landing quietly against the windshield where it began to collect near the wipers, almost creating a curtain for the two of you. “Keep lookin’ at me like you’re starving.” He said.

“Already ate.”

He acknowledged your response with a grunt. If he didn’t believe you, he didn’t say it. Instead, he took his hand back and shoved whatever was left of his lunch into the pack, before turning back towards you. “C’mere.”

He had one hand upturned on the center console, pressing his fingers twice against his palm in a silent come on, when you looked at the motion with a lifted brow in confusion. Usually, you were able to tell what he was about to do—he gave himself away around you rather easily, whether that be a little twitch of his lips or a wrinkle in his brows. But he schooled his features well at this moment.

You listened though. Giving him one of your hands that, when your fingers slipped through his, he tugged almost immediately; pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway over the center console to catch your lips. His tongue licked along your bottom lip, taking advantage of the soft gasp you exhaled from the sudden movement to taste the lingering coffee on your tongue from this morning, before he pulled back with a satisfied grin.

He hummed low beneath his breath like he was savoring every part of you he would miss when he eventually had to go back to work. “Coffee isn’t food.” He hummed, thumb brushing over the inside of your palm.

You rolled your eyes when he called you out but didn’t bother trying to formulate a lie—mostly because your head was turning to mush from his voice alone, and you could feel your panties ruin with arousal. You tried your best not to give your current state away, but when you breathed his name in a silent whisper, you couldn’t keep it from sounding like a plea. Need crawling out of your skin in a way that was almost shameful.

“I know baby, I know,” He smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips while his free hand moved to properly cup your jaw this time. “Have a feelin’ you weren’t just here to bring me my lunch, huh?”

If he knew what was going through your head, he wouldn’t need to ask such a stupid question. “You really think I’d wear this dress in this weather just to drop off some lunch?” Because it was all you could do to not give him the leverage you knew he already had as his mouth worked down the corner of your lips and towards your neck.

“You came here with a motive?”

“Prefer the word trade,” you corrected, earning a nip at your jaw. “Didn’t come here with a motive…”

A chuckle pulls from his throat as he tilts his head back from your neck for a second, “Ain’t that illegal?”

“We’re married, dumbass.” You remind him, “Knew you were old, but I thought we had at least a few more years before your memory started goin’-“

Your giggle erupted in the small space between you two when he mumbled, brat, beneath his breath, and snuck his arm around your waist to pull you over the center console and into his lap. “Think you’re so funny, dontcha?” His hands braced your hips as you settled, still grinning as you offered him a shrug because yeah, you did think you were funny.

He liked it, you knew that because he was already thick in his pants when your hips pressed against his. As much as he would like to have you think your teasing and goading didn’t affect him, you knew better. Your palms pressing flat to his chest as the snow created a makeshift blanket around the truck, beginning to come down heavier. “You married me for a reason.”

“Certainly not for that sense of humor.”

Offended, you smack his chest but were immediately placated when he smirked and pressed his lips to your own again, offering the silent apology as his thumbs pressed beneath the hem of your tights as you sighed against his mouth.

With you distracted by his lips and the path his hands were going, pressing down against him to feel the outline of him through his jeans while he kept you quiet, you hadn’t registered the cold of his fingers until you felt a tug and then- "rip!" The instant the sound punctured your ears, you parted from him with a groan. “Joel.”

“What?” He murmurs with faux innocence, tilting his head downward so his hair was tickling your jaw and his breath was fanning down your chest while he worked on tearing the fabric some more. “Easy access, darlin’.”

The tights were the last thing on your mind—they weren’t your favorite. Had been sitting in the back of your closet all summer long, waiting for the days to get colder before you would finally go searching for them. He knew that, because you barely wore the things; always complaining that they were itchy and tore too easily.

And so he shut down any further argument when he tilted his head back to catch your mouth again, tongue swiping along the corner of your lips, pressing in right at the same time his hand pushed between your legs, cupping your cunt from over your underwear with a groan. You were hot, panties sticking to you like a second layer of skin that he split with ease, pressing his middle finger against your clothed center while mumbling a, goddamn, you’re soaked, against your lips.

You whine into his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Your thighs flex around his when your hips start to rock against his hand, showing the need that was practically seeping out of your pores. He hadn’t even done so much as simply touch you, and you were already willing to fall apart. His thumb pressing against your clothed clit as your arousal forced the cotton of your panties to stick to your folds uncomfortably, making you moan against his mouth before he parted from your lips.

He worked sweetly over your jaw as his fingers moved with sin, tugging your panties to the side so he could run the calloused pad of his middle finger through your slick and groan, “My god.” like he still couldn’t believe you could get this wet because of him. His other hand slipped underneath your dress to press at your lower back, making you arch into his palm.

You preen at his touch; back arching while your hips rocked into his hand as his name falls from your lips with every curl of his finger because he was right there, but refusing to give you any sort of relief—fingers, mouth, hell, you’d take just grinding against his clothed cock at this point. “Joel,” you groan, this time with an annoyance coloring your otherwise needy voice. “Give me something-“

He cut you off and really, you should have seen it coming; he eased his middle finger into your heat and curled just enough to feel you squeeze around him, forcing you to grab at his shoulders for stabilization as all the air left your lungs. One of his fingers was thicker than two of yours, allowing your pussy to stretch and tighten around him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, tilting his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder so he could watch as his finger thrust into you. “Thought I worked you out this morning, sweetheart."

Panting, you could barely respond with words. Squirming in his lap as the disgustingly lewd squelch of your arousal made your cheeks hot. It wasn't a question: he did work you out this morning with his tongue, but god knew you craved more. You were no better than him in that sense, you suppose. "Keep-keep going," You manage to choke out, part of you almost worried he’d pull his hand back just to tease you some more.

He curled his finger again and again, feeling you shiver from the motion, and you could feel your heartbeat throbbing in your clit. Grunting as you tightened around him, pulsing with molten heat that combat the cold. "Goddamn, she’s pulsing around me." He breathed out, swallowing down the want to push you back against the glovebox and bury his face between your thighs because god, he knew how you tasted when you got like this and he never passed up the chance to split you with his tongue.

Your stomach tensed with every thrust of his finger, body molding to him, you didn't even dare look down and see the mess of arousal you'd created in the cusp of his palm. One of your hands slipping up from his chest to grab at the soft curls at the nape of his neck. His fingers were calloused from the work he did, creating a delicious friction along your inner walls. You were soaking his hand all from a few good strokes of his finger.

"Gonna come, Joel," You warned, choking the words out as you closed your eyes tight when you felt the familiar ball of heat being unraveled at his hands embarrassingly fast.

"Yeah?" He grunted in your ear before nipping softly at the flesh, curling his finger to coax you further towards your release. “Come on then, babygirl, make a mess on my hand."

It was all you could do not to bite through your lip as your orgasm pressed on; the moment his thumb swiped over your clit again, you cried out his name as he felt your cunt flutter and squeeze around his finger as you came. The truck filled with the sounds of your slick sticking to his skin, of your uneven breaths as you shook, skin crawling with heat and the only thing you could do was hold onto him as he helped you through the throes of your release.

The aftershocks of your orgasm held you in its claws. Your thighs shaking as Joel continued to press his finger into your wet cunt, like he was trying to help ease you down as you whimpered and trembled in his hold. He praised you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and another to your jaw as he whispered that you were so damn beautiful when you came.

“That’s it, baby, look at you,” He cooed, his hand at your back holding you steady in his lap. “So good for me, hm?”

With your thighs knocked apart by his, you had no way of squeezing them shut, and any thought of trying to push his hand away had immediately been overridden by pleasure. Joel knew your body; knew your tells, knew when you’d had enough and when you wanted more, and he only pulled his hand out from between your thighs after he felt your blunt nails clawing at the nape of his neck.

He whispered a soft good girl as he brought his hand up to his mouth and wrapped his lips around his finger, groaning at your heady taste that stuck to his skin. Shit. He was definitely going to be thinking about you for the rest of the day—your taste, how you felt around his fingers, how you sounded as you came. His cock twitched in his jeans at the thought of how you’d feel around him. How you’d stretch even more around his cock than his fingers.

“You okay?” He asked finally; his voice softened from his own arousal, lifting his hand from his mouth to push back the hair from your forehead like he was distracting himself from pressing up into you, wanting to give you a second to catch your breath.

And you nodded, eyes still squeezed shut but your fingers loosened at the nape of his neck. Despite him having made you come, you still felt an uncomfortable amount of heat settled between your thighs; one that could only be satiated by more of Joel. More of his touch, more of his lips—more of him. “Need you, Joel.”

You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, or how you felt him smile against your skin like he was pleased with how he’d gotten you. You needed him. Needed more than just his fingers.

“Yeah?” He mused. “What d’you need, hon? You’re gonna need to use your words.”

You had half a mind to smack him. To curse him for bringing you to a peak and then make you beg when you knew he needed you just as much—if not, more, just from how you felt the outline of him through his jeans. But still, you relented. Giving in because god, you needed him now. Grinding against the fabric of his jeans wasn't giving you what you needed.

“Your cock, Joel, please..”

He was no better than you at the moment. Your words sent his blood swimming south and he tilted his head to press his lips against yours while his hand moved yours from his chest down to his jeans, like he was making you feel what you did to him; how hard he was already. Thick, heavy, practically aching for you to free him. Jeans damp with your arousal.

That was the silent go ahead you needed. Trying to keep up with him as he bit at your lips, tongue pushing past and licking at the roof of your mouth as you pressed your palm against his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. He only parted from your mouth to groan—a deep rumble coming from his chest, his own hands moving to knead at the plush of your thighs as he watched you above him because if he didn’t put his hands to use, he’d be hauling you into the back to take over.

Your hand cupped his cock through his jeans as you whimper into his mouth. Hips tilting in a back and forth motion, practically salivating at the thought of lifting yourself up and sinking down onto him. Of feeling the delicious stretch of his thick cock opening you up and settling deep into your belly, both of you drooling with arousal that would stain the dark curls at the base of his cock.

And you could only do so much with the space you two had. Slipping both hands between you, you unfastened his belt and undid his jeans before pushing your hand past the zipper and pulling him free. Already leaking with arousal, his cock throbbed in your palm and precum drooled down the length of him, soaking into the fabric of his jeans as you gave him a slow stroke, swiping your thumb across the sensitive head just to hear his breath catch in his chest.

He grunted your name, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs while he tried not to thrust up into every downward stroke. You only lifted your hand from him for a second to spit into your palm, leaving his cock twitching against his lower stomach and leaking precum against the dark trail of hair that lead down to a thicker patch of hair at the base of him.

“C’mon, baby,” he groaned, on the crux of pleading because heaven knows he’s not above begging you when the tables were turned.

And you were quickly running out of patience. Every time you felt him twitch in your hand, or more arousal pooled at the slit that you wiped away with your thumb, your pussy squeezed around nothing; soaking the bunched fabric of your own panties even more like it was weeping if you weren’t filled within the next few minutes. And so you shifted in his lap, lifting your hips enough to line him up with your cunt, swiping the tip through your folds before you slowly lowered yourself down, allowing you to be split inch by thick inch.

He was a stretch—he always was, and when your thighs were flush against his once again, burying him to the hilt, claiming you completely, neither of you moved. Your pussy fluttered around him like your body was trying to remember his shape all over again. “Good lord,” He groaned, sliding one hand up to curl around your waist as you moaned above him so prettily, keeping you locked and solid against him. “Look at’chu, she’s suckin’ me in.”

His words weren’t doing anything to help the way your stomach tightened as you adjusted to him. Your cunt pulsed; alive and leaking arousal to the thatch of dark wiry hair at the base of his cock, and no longer were you thinking about the cold air that had once seeped in through the cracks of the truck. Your body was hot, yet despite that you still wound your arms around his neck because felt like you couldn’t get close enough to him.

“I need- I need to move…” Your voice was almost unrecognizable from the lust that wove through each word, still trying to hold yourself still like that sort of self-restraint would help keep you from coming too soon, pussy already sensitive from his fingers.

He nodded, hands smoothing over your back in silent coaxing while his lips pressed once, then twice over your jaw as you tilted your temple against his cheek. Your hips rolled once—like you were testing what you could both handle when both of you moaned in unison, before you moved again, and again, starting a slow back and forth pace.

To Joel, though, it felt like torture. Each time you squeezed around his cock, every noise that fell from your lips, the uneven breaths panting against the skin of his neck, his grip around your waist tightened to keep himself from planting his feet and fucking up into you. To let you keep the pace. Let you take the lead. Even if his body was taut with overwhelming need to take over.

You cursed when you lifted your hips in just the right way, allowing his cock to reach somewhere deep in your stomach—fuck, he had to be in your stomach, you thought, because that was the only reasonable explanation for how you felt him everywhere. Your body almost seizing from pleasure, fingernails cutting indents against his skin that you would kiss away later. He was all you could think of right now, infiltrating your mind and your body, and you sank back down with a cry.

“I know, I know,” Joel cooed again, feeling your nose nudge against his jaw. “You’re so good baby, doing so good…”

Your pussy fluttered around him from his praise, arousal leaking down when you lifted yourself up again. Felt heat prickle along your skin as your thighs burned from the repetitive movement, his lips coming down to mouth kisses along the expanse of your neck. He was growing restless beneath you. His hands grabbing at any part of you, slipping up beneath your dress to hike it up your waist, his touch making you shiver.

A whine against his skin confirmed his thoughts. Your body was tight, coiled with heat that pooled where the two of you stayed connected. Your mouth parted to let your cries fall free, hips stuttering and shaking against him when you could barely keep up with your own pace, and it wasn’t until you said his name did he take the hint.

“I gotchu, sweetheart,” He grunted, shifting beneath you to plant his feet against the floor of the truck so he was able to push up into you, earning a gasp that cut through the heaviness laying thick in the truck. “I gotchu… goddamn.”

He repeated the movement over and over again, thrusting up into you with a noise coming deep within his chest and mixing with yours, filling the truck with the disgustingly raunchy mix of your and his arousal. Every time he pushed himself into you, you let out the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and something primal inside him dared him to chase that. Wanting to hear it over and over again as you clung onto him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Oh fu-uck, Joel,” You gasp, thighs squeezing around his as you struggled to hold on. Your pussy gripping his cock with every thrust, you were sure you were soaking his jeans. “Keep going- please, keep going.”

He grunted with every thrust with no intention to stop, his big hands moving to settle on your hips and pull you down with his every movement. “Yeah?” He goaded on your pleas with a breathless growl, “That feel good, babygirl?”

The best you could respond with was a moan. Your nails clawing at his nape as every thrust shockwaves of pleasure along your spine. Your pussy squeezed him, arousal leaking down his length leaving the thatch of dark hair at the base of his cock soaked. Your thighs were shaking with every roll of his hips and the only thing you could do at the moment was cling to him as he unraveled you with every thrust.

Your dress was bunched at your waist, his big hands groping at every peak and plush as his thighs flexed beneath you. He was never afraid of making noise with you and today was no different: grunting, groaning, panting against your skin like an animal as he pushed himself into you, mumbling something against your skin about how good you felt—how tight you were, as if he were feeling you for the first time again.

Goosebumps cut across your thighs as he gave a sharp thrust that had you squeezing impossibly tighter around him, moaning out a curse slurred with pleasure. The cold air a sharp, biting contrast to the heat he was invoking between your thighs. You tried to warn him as his cock nudged against that spongy spot inside of you that had your vision damn near whiting out, but the most you could utter was an uneven, coming.

Oh, he could die a happy man listening to your moans and cries as you came around him. His fingers digging into the plush of your hips as his thrusts grew sloppy, riding you through your orgasm with praises that fanned your skin in good girl, and look so pretty comin’ around me—all which damn near slipped by as your ears rang.

He followed you quickly after his thrusts turned sloppy and uneven. His thick fingers digging into your skin as he pushed up and let go with a noise coming deep from his chest that made you tighten even more around him, shaking as you felt the heat fill you. He kept going through his orgasm, thrusting up into you like he was trying to bury his seed as deep as it could go when he felt it start to leak down the length of him, creating a white ring at the base of his cock.

The truck slowly divulged into a thick silence as he worked to help the two of you come down. His fingers loosened around your waist and ran along the curve of your spine with a touch soothing rather than needy; helping you come down from your orgasm as your thighs still twitched around his, sticky from heat and your releases combined.

Lunch was long forgotten and the only sound you could hear was the pounding of your heart against your chest, paired with the heavy breathing of Joel beneath you. God, how you wish you two were back in your own bed, where you could just roll off of him and curl up underneath the blankets because the best naps always came after Joel had fucked you, satiating you in a way only he ever could.

And you only moved after he spoke up after the lapse of comfortable silence, “You alright?" His question going unanswered for a second or two after your head had fallen to his shoulder.

He felt you nod. A silent assurance that shit, you were more than fine. Your cunt still hot and tight as a fist around him like your body wasn’t ready to let go despite the sensitivity that made you shiver if you accidentally moved, and he let your dress slip from his fingers, fixing the fabric around your lower half before lifting his hand up to brush your hair off of your shoulder, grabbing a gentle handful in his fist so it was off of your neck to help you cool down.

“Thank you.” You whisper, tilting your head back to press your lips against his for a kiss that was softer than the ones shared moments ago.

You felt him grunt against your lips. “Should be thanking you,” he muttered. “My pretty wife bringin’ me lunch and dessert?” not bothering to pull back from your mouth when he spoke with a grin, keeping your lips trapped with his like he was savoring each lazy stroke of your tongue.

Breathless, your laugh was the thing to break the kiss; airy, and light, “Don’t get used to it.” You say. “My ass is freezing.”

How convenient it was that the way the tights had ripped right up the seam and split the fabric into two at the cusp of your ass, allowing for the flow of cold air to settle against your skin and oh so unfortunately force you impossibly closer to Joel. Though your words held no actual seriousness because you were already planning the next little visit to his work in your head—maybe this time, you would be the one to forget to make his lunch.

“Oh, my poor baby,” He cooed, faux pity coloring his words and his lips quirk at the corners in spite of him trying to hold it back. “I’ll start keeping blankets in here. Keep my girls ass from freezing.”

You rolled your eyes, muttering that that was the least he could do, which earned a quiet laugh from him while you leaned back in his lap, being careful not to move your hips in a certain way and accidentally overstimulate either of you. The heat in the truck had since gone cold, as it always did when the truck was left idling for too long. Damn thing was picky, only bothering to spit hot air when you had your foot on the gas. Joel claimed he was going to fix it, but as always, he never got to it.

His hand freed your hair when he realized what you were trying to do, moving instead to your hips to help lift you up and off of him despite how every nerve and instinct of his body was screaming at him to pull you back down; to not let go of your heat that wrapped around him tight. “Your guys are gonna come looking for you if you’re not back soon.” You say, biting your bottom lip to suppress the moan at the back of your throat when you felt the warmth of his release follow his cock after he’d pulled out, letting him tug your panties back into place while you helped tuck him back into his jeans.

Reluctant, because you also don’t want to let him go, you stay seated in his lap for a moment longer, watching as he buttoned and zipped his jeans back up and swiped at the damp spot you left—he’d have to make up a lie about that. Say he spilled his drink if it was pointed out. “They probably don’t even realize I’m gone.”

His words however proved to almost immediately bite him in the ass, like somehow the universe was watching and cackling as knuckles tapped against the fogged up window. “You two decent?” Tommy. “We’d like our foreman back, whenever you’re done with him, please.”

You could hear the shit-eating grin the younger Miller had on through his voice. Could see the distorted billow of smoke coming from the cigarette hanging between his fingers and had the two of you not been caught in worse compromising positions than this, you might have been a little more embarrassed.

Still, you cringe. Feeling a new kind of heat crawl at the back of your neck as Joel responded for you, “I’ll be out in a second.” sounding more annoyed than embarrassed.

You heard Tommy chuckle as he made his way back from the truck, almost pleased with himself and you didn’t need to see the look on Joel’s face to know he’d be getting nothing but shit from his brother for the rest of the day.

“We are finishing this tonight,” Joel said—not a suggestion, not a question. Stating it like it was a promise as he brought his hands up to your face. “In our own bed where your ass won’t freeze.”

You nod, finding the initial embarrassment of being caught slowly melting away when he leans you forward for a kiss. Like he was sealing his promise of later.

[your-fav-bratt]

Pulling panties to the side is hotter than taking them off and you can’t change my mind

[intheorangebedroom]

[eightestmonth]

A man.

so big.... and broad....... and heavy......

I bet he likes to yank your legs up his shoulders as he pounds in because that way he can feel exactly how you squeeze him.. and you could feel his soft belly too....

[russianblush]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 | Jackson!Joel x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec 

summary | Joel's got a superpower. Alternatively, Joel swears he can smell when you're ovulating.

author's note | @gracieheartspedro said something about joel being able to smell when you're ovulating as a joke but i am a very serious person. so serious....i swear lmao

content warning | 18+ MDNI, BREEDING KINK!!!, joel can definitely smell it on you, talks of pregnancy/future together, established relationship, established free-use, possessive!joel, he's creepin' into peepaw status (he's 58 but no defined age for reader so let your imagination run wild), mentions of joel possibly being sterile, unprotected piv, creampies for obvious reasons

word count — 2.5k

Joel could smell it on you.

At least, he liked to make you think he could.

He can, though. He swears.

He’s tapping his bare foot against the hardwood floor as he rocked gently in his recliner, glasses perched on his nose as he flipped through the Space for Dummies book Ellie had gifted him for his birthday a few months ago.

It was dark aside from the table lamp beside him, the glowing, soft orange hue wrapped around him, illuminating the side of his face as he angled the book to catch the light, unaware of your presence until your fingers were plucking the book out of his hand.

Joel offers a small noise of acknowledgement as he looks up in your general direction, welcoming the spread of your legs with his warm, open palm as you rest yourself in his lap.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” you tell him gently, voice thick with sleep.

It was the middle of the night and not entirely out of character to find him up and busying himself with anything to keep his mind off of the fact that he couldn’t sleep, for some reason or another.

“M’right here,” he responds with a tender touch, his hand curling against the side of your neck as his thumb runs along the line of your jaw, a smile growing as you push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose where they had slipped down, “you up tryin’ to drag me back into bed?”

You laugh softly but decidedly shake your head, curling the fabric of his cotton shirt around your finger until it wrinkles, aware of his wandering hand as it glides up your thigh and under the waistband of your underwear hidden beneath the oversized sleep shirt you had worn to bed that night.

“Didn’t come down here for nothin’,” Joel teases, “whaddya need, baby?”

You two had established your dynamic months ago—you had worn Joel down quite a bit since his initial arrival, turning a hardened man into a softer, kinder version of himself. You often wondered how similar this version of him was to himself before the outbreak, wondering how long it had been since he’d felt safe enough to let his guard down.

It was simple, really.

As long as the house was empty—no Ellie and her friends, you were both fair game to take advantage of, no preamble, no questions.

Luckily, Ellie had slipped out earlier that night. The kid liked to think she was good at sneaking out, always slipping back in before breakfast—Joel and you were both aware, but you didn’t bother to make a deal out of it.

Joel wasn’t her father, as much as he tried to protect her.

You were only a friend, more than just a stranger, but you were in no position to make points or discipline a teenager who was already set in her ways.

Still, Joel often thought about the possibilities of family.

It took him a year before he opened up about Sarah, despite the scattering of pictures throughout his home, another failure in his life that he tried to avoid at all costs.

You couldn’t always tell if he meant it, but there were moments where it was all he seemed to think about, driven by a mix of desperation and lust, it was blinding.

And, he was doing it now.

Joel buries his nose into your chest, snuggling into the space as he sniffs and drags his face up and into your neck, your hand pressing against him as you giggle softly, feeling the tickle of his facial hair against your skin.

“You smell different,” He notes, his voice low, lips parted and pressed against your skin but only barely, pressing a featherlight kiss against your neck.

“Here we go,” you reply fondly, slowly adjusting yourself over his lap more firmly, centered against his slowly hardened cock, watching the fabric tent under your touch as you untie the knot at his waist, “you got some kinda superpower I don’t know about?”

“Nah,” he sighs, his lips curling into a smirk, “I just know my woman,”

Your eyebrow raises in amusement as your mouth forms into a quiet “Oh.”

“Why you came down here, ain’t it?” Joel assumes, “You achin’ baby?”

Bingo.

You nod meekly, sighing in relief as his hands curl against your hips, guiding you slowly over the bulge in his pants, enjoying the show as your eyes flutter shut and your hands grip tight against his forearms, feeling the distinct ridge of veins under your fingertips.

“Greedy as hell,” Joel comments with an air of amusement.

The roughness in his voice sends a pulse of pleasure to your core, awakening that distinct primal need inside of you.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Joel reprimands, somewhere through the distraction of his guided movements, your shirt has been removed and tossed to the floor, his lips pressing at the center of your chest and right between your breasts, “can we?”

There was never a distinction of yes or no, because Joel knew what your boundaries were.

If he had sought you in the night, buried himself inside of you to satiate his own urges, you wouldn’t complain—that was how this worked and why you worked so well.

“I ain’t lyin’,” Joel admits, looking up at you from where his mouth was centered at your chest.

“About what?” you ask curiously, brain feeling hazy and unfocused.

“You get a little sweeter,” Joel explains, pulling away to drag his finger along your sternum, “right here.”

You roll your eyes dismissively, threading your fingers through his hair to push him back against the recliner as you roll your hips in time with his own movements, moaning softly.

“And you know how much I love sweets,” he breathes, turning his head to drag his tongue along the underside of your breast before he’s moving his hands up to squeeze them.

It doesn’t take long before his hand drifts, slipping under the fabric of your underwear to circle your already swollen clit, throbbing with need.

Joel examines you carefully, listening to your breath hitch as he follows a steady rhythm until your hips begin to naturally rocking against his movement—he’s got this all down to a science, knowing exactly when to speed up and pump the breaks and you’re quickly tripping over the precipice of a much-needed orgasm, though he knows it wouldn’t satisfy you.

“I need you,” you beg with a pant, head feeling light as you come down.

“Come here then,” Joel commands softly, his tone clear as he pulls you closer, pressing his hardening length against you more prominently, a breathless gasp escapes your lips, “feel that?”

You nod again, tiredly.

“I need you too,” Joel admits, “all day—all the time…”

You both switch into auto-pilot, rising only long enough to drag your underwear down your legs while Joel shoves his sweats down far enough that his cock springs free, leaking pre-cum into the hem of his shirt as you situate yourself back over his lap.

“Just can’t get enough of ya,” he tells you, voice thick with desire as he dragged the head of his cock through your folds before guiding you down onto him, inch by tantalizing inch.

Your breath hitches, a gasp escaping your lips when he fills you completely.

You always expected the sensation to wane, but the stretch of him surprised you every time.

“Goddamn, I’m lucky,” he gumbles, throwing his head back as you slowly begin to roll your hips, his eyes dark and half-lifted with lust as he watches your face contorted in pleasure, “all mine,”

The sound of his voice—so deeply possessive—makes your heart race.

You can’t help but rock against him harder, relishing in the friction as your hands settle against the sides of his neck, breathing into his open mouth. It’s intoxicating to feel him throbbing inside you, cunt squeezing him like a vice when he grazes that sweet, too sensitive spot inside of you.

“You—you’ve been thinkin’ about it?” you ask curiously, moaning softly as your eyebrows thread together, face scrunched up as Joel reels you in closer, arm winding around your back, pressing your bare chest against him, the reclining chair rocking with your slow, but forceful rhythm. 

“About?” Joel hums, noticing the you should know look in your eye, mouth curling into a subtle smirk as one of your hands slip underneath his shirt and claw at his stomach, forcing a low groan to slip from his throat.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks with a fond, sated smile, “Raisin’ a baby with me?”

You nod silently, distinctly aware of his roaming hands and the one that squeezes at your ass, his mouth gravitating towards your tits again, this time swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple before he takes it into his mouth, thinking about how heavy they would feel in his mouth if this time were to take, if he could actually get you pregnant—he was even sure anymore.

Fifty-eight and likely shooting blanks, the chance seemed slim.

It was just another thing he couldn’t give you.

But, you had faith.

No, not in a higher power or some god.

But, him. Joel.

“God, you make me crazy,” he breathes, the warmth of his breath washing over your skin as you ride him harder, feeling him push into you deeper. 

Claiming you.

The chair creaked under the weight of your fervent need, the sound only adding to the symphony of gasps and moans slipping from your mouth as your hands press into his chest and his hands, again, find their way to your hips, keeping you rooted in place as he fucks himself into you, eager to fill your cunt.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” Joel begins with a broken grunt, “You’d be prancin’ ‘round this place provin’ to everybody that you’re mine—”

“And—fuck—you’d love it,” you challenge him, “you can’t even stand when guys breathe in my direct—direction, Joel,”

Joel smirks at your calculation, knowing you were correct, “Gotta let ‘em know,”

“Uh huh,” you reply breathily as the sweat on your skin collects under both the heat of the dying fire beside you and the percolating heat of your bodies as Joel leans forward and licks a line up the center of your chest to your throat before biting at your jaw to make you squeal.

He always seemed to have a second wind; a calm before the storm.

It works, his teeth nipping at your skin—incredibly thankful that the adjoining couch was only a short distance and you can both scramble towards it in a hurry, watching as Joel pulls his shirt over his head in one swift and fluid movement, carefully removing his glasses with a gentleness that contracts his heaving chest, placing them on the table before he’s kicking his pants off the rest of the way and shifting between your legs.

There’s adoration that floods your features, giggling softly as his hands twist around your thighs to pull you to him before his hands wrap around his slick-covered shaft and he’s pushing inside of you for the second time that night.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that,” Joel warns through a soft cough as he settles on his knees, moving his hips at a slow pace as you tilt your head, squeezing one of the hands that rest on your thigh, “we’re gonna have a problem,”

“I think we established I am the problem,” you challenge him.

“You really want a future with me?” Joel asks candidly despite the lust so evident in his eyes, his face, the way his tongue swipes against his bottom lips as you moan softly and your grip shifts to his wrist, anchoring him to you, “Because that’s what I’m seein’ with the way you’re lookin’ at me right now,”

“Wow, all that from one look?” you tease, earning a quick snap of his hips for your obvious amusement, “Fuck—oh, I mean…ye—yeah, I do,”

You’ve had this talk countless times, wondering if Joel would ever truly believe it.

That you wanted him. Only him.

Always him.

“Yeah?” he goads, leaning forward to curl his hand around the edge of the cushion near your head as the other digs into the back of the couch, immediately fixing the angle to something much more intense, his hips working faster to drive you over the edge.

“Yeah,” you answer softly, reaching up to drag your hand against his cheek, his gaze drifting toward your joined bodies, your cunt being greedy in the way it takes him in.

 "Look at that…” Joel says in a husky, low tone that makes you shiver, “look at how your body wants this—knows exactly what it needs from me,"

You could barely speak, feeling yourself drift, offering a barely audible mumble in response.

 "I know, baby. I know,” It was like a comfort, his voice always putting you at ease, “Feels right, huh?"

“Don’t,” you gasp as Joel suddenly becomes more frantic with his pace, eyes stuck on your open mouth and arched back, “don’t—don’t stop,”

“I gotcha,” he promised, “Got you wrapped around me like this—squeezin’ me—pullin’ me in. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart.”

“I want it,” you promise with the same intensity, “want all of this, with you.

"You’re gonna get it, baby.” Joel groans, sounding wrecked, “Gonna take every drop I give you ‘cause you’re greedy like that, ain’tcha?”

You nod instantly, two—three—four sharp thrusts before his hands are curling around your hips and holding you to him, no space between your bodies, “M’gonna stuff you so full you won’t even have to worry,”

Joel meets your gaze with fierce intensity, his dark eyes reflecting a blend of hunger and a possessiveness that bleeds true as he comes deep inside of you, feeling his cock pulse as he spills a load he had been holding back for a few days, hoping it would make a difference.

In an instant he slumps back, but not before dragging you toward him, resting against the arm of the couch as you settle into his lap again, his cock softening inside of you but neither of you threatening to move.

“Joel?” you whisper softly, legs still trembling from the intensity of your climax, your fingers tracing lazy patterns down his chest, his hand rubbing gently along the length of your spine.

“Yeah, baby?” He hums, tilting his head to look at you.

“I could go again,” you admit, earning a deep chuckle that shakes his chest and you.

“Never enough, is it?” Joel asks, leaning your head back to look at him before he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and then another, and another.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” you shrug, “breed me up, baby.”

Joel groans affectionately and throws his head back, suddenly attacked by your own share of kisses as you climb his chest to reach his face.

“God, you’re killin’ me,” he chuckles.

You raise your eyebrows in question before he cracks a playful smack to your ass.

“Go on,” he encourages, “I’ll be up in a few, breed you all damn night if I gotta,”

Until you were satisfied, at least.

Truthfully, Joel just couldn’t get enough of you either.

Too damn sweet.

[lordyitsjunie]

[lordyitsjunie]

imagine you and simon are dating and never really told anyone about it because yall figured that they already knew, and the one-four-one finally has a night off to relax and do whatever, choosing to spend it at the local pub where you now stood at the bar next to price and soap as you waited for your fruity little drink

soap being his usual self, chatting and going off about everything and anything and you did your best to respond, you really did as you normally enjoy talking with johnny, though you couldn't help but feel slightly overwhelmed by everything that was going on around you- it was hot, the music was too loud, people bumping into you as they passed by, and you could feel eyes leering from across the bar watching your every move, and-

shit. maybe you should've just agreed to stay in for the night, settled in your bed under your thick blanket with your comfort show playing in the background and your head against simon's chest as he tangled his fingers through your mess of hair, lulling you to sleep- the thought sounding more tempting now than ever...

too late for that now, you guessed, as you finally got your drink and waited for the other guys to get theirs, squinting your eyes as if that would help you hear soap any better over the loud music and hoping that the drink would help you loosen up a bit

though admittedly you'd stopped paying attention to soap for a second, only a damn second yet somehow that was enough time for you to lose track of what he was going off on as he quickly moved on from whatever he was saying, finding the topic kinda fell off somewhere, you weren't sure- only now finding yourself in the midst of his little game

and to say you were confused at first would be an understatement, unsure if you'd even heard him right with how loud the music was and the way his words slightly strung together; yet you could somewhat make out what he was saying, betting you to kiss your own boyfriend was something you didn't think soap was stupid enough to do, knowing hed lose

and listen, you would never take advantage of someone whos drunk. but when its soap, and hes betting you a twenty to do something you do every day, you guess you cant feel too bad

ghost had kept his eyes on you the entire time you were getting your drink. and while he knew you were capable of handling yourself, price and soap close by to help if you really needed it, in his words it doesn't hurt to have the 6'1 guard dog practically warding anyone off with a singular look. though he'd watched the entire interaction between you and soap, catching the confused glance you sent him before you started making your way back to him

"I was dared to kiss you." you announced unceremoniously as you stood next to his seat hoping he heard you over the loud music, the confused look still on your face in light of the strange bet as you set your drink next to his, leaning your hip against the table

he didnt even need to ask who it was who made the bet, simons brow quirked in amusement as his large hands instinctively fell onto your hips to pull you closer, asking "how much?" cause hey, he was fine with burning a hole in soaps wallet if it meant he'd be able to kiss his pretty girlfriend

to which you clicked your tongue and told him, "twenty."

“Only twenty?” He'd respond, earning him a half-shrug and a feigned eyeroll because yes, only twenty; having been too caught up in the thought of how stupid the bet was to try and bleed soap of anymore money, "S'that all I'm worth to you now, love?"

though before you could even respond, simon had beat you to it; trailing his hand up your waist to gently grasp your jaw to tilt your head back and accommodate for the way he craned his neck ever so slightly and pressed his lips to yours, and you guess a twenty is a twenty if it was this fun to get

you'd just wished you'd bet soap more when it finally donned on you: he didnt know

meanwhile soap stood seemingly appalled next to price, who snickered at the event that unfolded in front of him, not expecting you to actually go through with his drunken dare, and partially upset because he now owes you twenty bucks.