Joel Miller - Blog Posts

Pedge's Juke Box

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy! I also am secretly hoping writers might utilize this playlists for inspiration. I can't write with music in the background, but some people can...

Pena's Playlist Max's Mix Joel's Jives Maxwell's Music J's Jams Frankie's Favorites Dieter's Deets Silva's Songs Pike's Playlist The General's Genre Baby's Beats

*Please keep singing darling, we LOVE It....(our DJ)

Trick or Treat!

Pedge has been complaining that we're not doing enough Spooky Season activities. I tried to tell him that we are very busy with work, but he's very insistent, so for the rest of October, we are going to "Trick or Treat". Just DM me and Pedge with:

1.) Pedro "Bad" Boy (listed below) 2.) Candy Selection 3.) "Trick" or "Treat"

From L to R: (Max Phillips, Joel Miller, Veracruz, Maxwell Lord, Oberyn Martell, Dave York, Marcus Acacius, Dio, Agent Whiskey)

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!

Pedge's Bonfire

Pedro Scouts was my first Tumblr activity ever and it was a GREAT summer activity to participate in! Things have been winding down with Fall responsibilities, but Pedge and I needed to get away and garner a couple more badges! Ah, nature....All of my reblogs are found on my second account @pedrotease!

Endured the Storm: Blossom Beauty, Blossom A Very Special Episode of PB + J Fantasy: Good Girl @aurorawritestoescape Trope Off-Sex Pollen Din Djarin One Shot @auteurdelabre The Correspondence of the Contagious @crowandmousewritingco Touchstone @sawymredfox Road Trip: Are You Alright, Honey? @javigutierrez Knuckles Deep @ozarkthedog Knuckle Deep in the Backseat @cxrsed-angel Changed Username: I lurked on Tumblr for almost a full year before I started writing! I used to be @shadowcupcakewitch but she is no longer. Now we are all Pedge, all the time...

I'm also celebrating 100 reblogs with @burntheedges Roll-a-Trope Challenge reblog of "Pike's Place"! Thanks @inept-the-magnificent for the cool rec's and encouragements on this Slow Burn Winter Series, final installment on Christmas Day. Now, Pedge and I better get back to camping, we only have one sleeping bag, whatever will we do?

A Very Special Episode of PB and J

And now for a very special episode of PB and J. This one is drastically self-indulgent, though I feel there are some things Pedge and I can say to the fandom that might help. 

Sexy Disclaimer: Pedge is not a registered therapist, however therapeutic he might be. We are going to be talking about some challenging topics like SH, ideation, orientation, violence and shame…

Pedge and I have been talking a lot about shame and allowance lately, haven’t we Pedge? I know, it’s hard to sit with uncomfortable emotions no matter how many chocolate chip cookies we have. It’s easy to feel broken or like there’s something wrong with you. Hmmm? I mean, it’s only 11:30am but…yes we can have some for breakfast.

This first writing year on Tumblr I’ve learned A LOT. I spent a full year reading ALL KINDS of fics and some of them had me feeling all sorts of things! I read fluff, I read violence, I read about threesomes, I read about orientation, I read about SH, ideation, dead dove…

Sorry, Pedge has his fingers in his ears and is singing “Purple Rain” right now, just in case. Maybe I should whisper a little…I’m just gonna give a little reminder that trigger warnings are there for a reason. You just protect yourself like Pedge does, and if you don’t like something, block it! I saw some scary pics last night I just blocked that ish straight away, no thank you! 

But sometimes I have a tendency to “block” myself, and that’s something my REAL therapist and I have been working on. What? No Pedge, I’m sorry the time that we spend together is very therapeutic, but it’s also important to speak with a professional. No, she doesn’t make chocolate chip cookies the way you do, and yes I would like some Almond Milk.

Anyways, sometimes I feel silly or embarrassed or guilty about the things that I like. Do you ever feel that way? I worry that a playful cartoon like Pedge might appear childish or misrepresent some of the adult topics we address. I’ve started describing myself as a sexy ace, but that label doesn’t really fit. Pedge is running to get his Pride Flag from June, thank you for the support, P. I love fics that explore orientation and different types of love. Yes, Pedge I LOVED the work you did in “A Strange Way of Life”. I mean…that was hawt, and I’m not just talking about the oven right now.

I like unpacking fics that involve violence. I’m not 100% why, but I feel safe within myself to explore those feelings, particularly in a fictional environment and not a real one. Yes Pedge, I DID watch TLOU and that hospital scene was VERY believable. No, I don’t know if Laurence Olivier liked chocolate chip cookies, but I’m sure he would have liked you. This October we’re going to explore some Halloween fics with some of your SUPER scary characters like Dave York and Max Phillips. Pedge, you know I can still see you even when you’re hiding underneath the covers, right? Okay, you just let me know if we overstimulate ourselves, okay? Maybe we’ll read those during the daytime…

Pedge, did you know sometimes I even feel embarrassed about writing? (Ahem) alright, you don’t have to laugh about it, silly goose. I often refer to you as Pedge or P, because you’re an avatar. No, not the movie. Yes, I know it’s a classic. An avatar is an icon or figure that represents a REAL figure like Pedro Pascal.

Oh honey, I’m sorry, no you are VERY real. How could you eat so many cookies if you weren’t real? Oh cuddle bug…okay you just nestle up in here for a hug, I’m sorry I made you cry. All I mean to say is that thoughts and feelings and desires are VERY real, and sometimes giving them a name or an image can help us sort through the complicated parts of ourselves! And it can mean whatever we want. It doesn’t mean we’re delusional, or violent or bad, it just means that we’re human. And humans use art to understand themselves and life.

Yes, and cookies. We also enjoy cookies and movies and museums and pleasure and all kinds of things that don’t need an explanation, they just get to be enjoyed, much like the fandom.

Sigh. No we’re not broken, we’re just human. Well, some of us are human and some of us are avatars, but we both need Love. And cookies. They’re ready? Okay good, this existential and literary crisis has made me very hungry. When in doubt, try to remember that feelings and thoughts are neutral, it’s what you DO with those emotions that defines their meaning and external impact.

In closing, Pedge and I just want you to know how much we like you. You’re good. You’re not bad. Okay, you’re not PERFECT. You’re just you, and we like that. Keep doing your best! Keep exploring, keep learning, keep growing, keep wanting! And if there are some emotions that feel too big even for cookies to handle, think about getting your own therapist, like me! Pedge is currently occupied, so you’ll have to get your own. Mostly, just be good to yourself and be good to others. And remember that sometimes a cookie is just a cookie. Yes, Pedge, you’ve done an extraordinary job with this batch, I must say. Yes Pedge. I love you too.

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the dividers!

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

I love these kinds of activities! Here's the last update, it's been a great year of Tumblr 💖 I have a separate reblog account so check out @pedrotease for all the deets! And thanks to @burntheedges for the fun prompt! Finale Bingo, thanks to the writers for all you do!

Dave York No One Has to Know What We Do @guiltyasdave Down Bad @schnarfer The Roomate Agreement @auteurdelabre Melt @sizzlingcloudmentality Dieter Sweet Dee @yopossum Devotion, Self Care w/ Dieter + Jett @morallyinept My Darling Muse Mr. Ben Visiting @ladamedusoif Ternion @exquisiteserotonin Joel Miller All Good Things @criticallyacclaimedstranger Oberyn Unshelled @inept-the-magnificent He Will Slay You With His Tongue @iamasaddie Hurt/Comfort Trope (Joel Edition) Somewhere to Run, I Know Who You Are @punkshort Nothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfiction Javier Pena Kinktober 2024 @flightlessangelwings Afterglow Marcus Pike Is It Real? @f0rever15elf Pike's Place Pero Tovar Drabble #4 @toomanystoriessolittletime General Acacius Soak @juletheghoul Din Shower Sex @pedropascallme Javi Gutierrez Slow @morallyinept Phoenix Rising Agent Whiskey Glorification @morallyinept How Much Does Devotion Weight? @anabdaniels Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Cock Warming @flightlessangelwings Frankie Morales You're My Stranger in the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Moody Frankie New Pedro Character Little Dove @palioom Unmasked Tim Rockford The Detective and the Agent @604to647 Husband Material Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Ezra One Stop Shop @morallyinept

Pedro Boys

Pedge and I have FINALLY started writing fics for the Pedro Boys and we wanted to have a spot where they could all catch up! Check out the masterlist below!

Pedro Pascal Pedge Cuddle Couch New York, New York Series Baby's Beats (short) Javi Gutierrez Afterglow: Phoenix Rising Marcus Pike Charcuterie Challenge A Different Happy Ending Pike's Place Pike's Playlist (short)

Frankie Morales Moody Frankie Frankie's Favorites (short) Joel Miller Moody Joel Peach and Apple Pie Crime and Punishment Joel's Jives (short) Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Max's Mix (short) Javier Pena Afterglow Series Pena's Playlist (short) Dieter Bravo Yes Chef! My Darling Muse Dieter's Deets (short) Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Din Djarin Unmasked Platonic Love

Joel Sits On You Peach + Apple Pie

I gotta say @yopossum's "Snug" already nailed this writing prompt from our beloved @beefrobeefcal BUT it did get the creative juices flowing, as I've started to write for the Pedro Boys, and Joel is one of my favorites. Check out my previous attempts with Moody Joel and I hope you enjoy this Fall treat with a little slice of pie...

Triggers: post-apocalypse, discussions of "married life", M fo F reader, expanding waistlines, mentions of food, playful sitting/wrestling in committed relationship, lite smut at end...

An enigmatic autumn wind whipped around your cozy, creaking cabin. A fire crackled in the hearth and your legs were tucked underneath you as you ventured further into your well worn, re-discovered copy of Frankenstein. It was a miracle you had found it, during the raids and plundering—little luxuries like books, furniture and a home cooked meal had, at times, appeared almost imaginary. Trying to exist outside of survival had been a Herculean task, but with each passing day, your time at the commune and your relationships had started to spark that inner familiarity of comfort and peace. But with it, came the awareness that at any moment, those same luxuries could be whisked away like the bracing autumnal wind you were harbored against.

One aspect of your survival that seemed to anchor you to the realities of that new, peaceful life was Joel. Getting to know one another under the desperate, iron clad vice of hardened survival had been tempered by years of camaraderie, companionship…and eventually love. In one sense, marriage no longer existed, but had evolved into a state of committed partnership that transcended more than a contractual piece of paper. It was an unspoken agreement that was brought to life in passion, in practice and in repetition. In all the ways that humans were crafted for one another, you found yourself fitting into a life and another person who was helping you knit yourself back together. 

Except for today. Joel was running late. As usual. The foreboding skies were darkening as you anxiously awaited his return, hopeful that the day’s patrol hadn’t exhausted him beyond recognition. “Marriage” had been good to Joel. His mental health and stability had improved, and he seemed, over-all, a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the “effect it had on his waistline”. You smirked, pausing in your reading, as you reflected on HIS choice of words. Joel wasn’t a vain man, by any definition, but his survival acumen was unmatched. Even in this happier state, it was difficult for Joel to relax into any kind of comfort whatsoever. It was only by your daily proddings, smushy kisses and love of baking that you were infinitesimally dragging Joel down the path of blissful, partnered life. If he’d ever get home.

You heard the tell-tale signs of your Frankensteinian bedmate lumbering up the wooden porch and flinging the door open as cascades of leaves and hay blew in after him. Slamming the door shut behind him, he grunted in recognition as you yelled from the couch, “DO NOT TRACK THAT MUD INTO MY HOUSE BIG MAN! TAKE THOSE BOOTS OFF IMMEDIATELY AND GO TO THE KITCHEN”. You pursed your lower lip with slight chagrin, aware that you were running a little hot. Joel’s heart might be significantly armored, but you bit your tongue with embarrassment. Annoyed at your own need, you hoped that Joel knew you well enough to discern your restless state. Joel always had a way of handling you that kept you grounded and present, but perhaps there were some moods that even Joel couldn’t tame. He huffed with exasperation, dropping his coat on the ground unceremoniously and heading into the kitchen.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GARDEN OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS, BUT YOU NEED TO GET OUT THERE AND WRANGLE THOSE CARROTS INTO SUBMISSION!” you shouted from the living room, as Joel clanged around the kitchen like a bull in a china shop. “MARIA CAME BY TO ASK FOR AN EXTRA SHIFT NEXT WEEK IN CASE RAIDERS WERE COMING UP THE SOUTH PASSAGE!” you bellowed, annoyed that you had to sacrifice another evening with Joel at home. “THE LEG ON THAT DINING ROOM CHAIR IS MORE WOBBLY THAN EVER, AND YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO EAT THAT APPLE PIE UNTIL YOU HAVE SOME…soup first…!” you trailed off, lost again in your literary masterpiece as the kitchen chaos lulled to a dull roar.

You began mouthing the words of one of your favorite passages, “I endeavored to crush these fears and to fortify myself for the trial which in a few months I resolved to undergo; and sometimes I allowed my thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise.” You temporarily paused in your reading, suspicious at the sudden silence in the house.

“DON’T YOU DARE ATTEND THAT COUNCIL MEETING THIS EVENING AFTER A FULL DAY OF PATROLS, WITH NO FOOD IN YOUR STOMACH AND AN ACHING BACK! AND IF YOU EVEN GIVE ME ONE IOTA OF SASS ABOUT TAKING A BATH THIS EVENING I WILL ABSOLUTELY SMOTHER YOU WITH KISSES UNTIL YOU’RE BEGGING FOR REPRIEVE!” you let your voice echo in the cabin, pleased with your relative confidence and bravado. Joel might inspire fear in the hearts of the commune residents, but you had seen this man in a bubble bath. It was obvious to you who wore the pants in this family.  

You continued reading, “I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye…”. You nodded your head in approval. It was so ridiculous that Mary Shelley hadn’t been recognized in her day as the foremost writer of science fiction. Eyeing the page skeptically, you were just about to shout something to that effect when Joel’s peach of a jean clad ass loomed large in your vision before he promptly sat on top of you.

“Jo-OOOOOOH-el!” you huffed as the warmth of his body covered you like a man-blanket, easing himself atop you delicately, at first, awkwardly smashing the book into your chest with solidity. The pine scented cologne of his plaid shirt muffled your laughter as he wriggled his hips atop you, sinking back to full effect.

“Needs Cheddar” he grumbled, mouth full of sugared sweetness, chomping away at the apple pie you had expressly forbade him to eat.

“I didn’t have tii—-ime” you hyperventilated “to cultivate and curdle bacteria between patrols you big…OOOF!” Joel pushed back gently as the couch creaked under both of your bodies, humming in delight at the baked goodness melting in his mouth.

“Look little missy” he drawled sarcastically “It was a long day, my back is hurtin’ and if you don’t shut that pretty mouth of yours I’m gonna give you a Texas spankin’!”. You stilled with anticipation, excited at the turn of events that had transpired with your moody attitude. Maybe you would have to start complaining more often.

“Just you t-t-try Big Man!” you tried to retort as a blush crept up your neck and cheeks, attempting to squeeze some sense into your hulk of man. Unable to grasp him fully around the waist, you shifted your hands to the meat of his thighs, gripping just under the knees. Joel lurched forward slightly in ticklish surprise, doubling down on his tactic he sighed contentedly, relaxing into your lap.

Shaking your head in comic disbelief, you decided to opt for a new tactic, and with honeyed dramatics you coo’d, “OOOH…I’m seeing stars! I can—t…can—t breathe!” you giggled, flailing your arms like a small child. “My life…it’s fl-fl-flashing before my eyes! This is it! I’m s-s-o weak….” you trailed off, releasing all the energy from your body and collapsing in mock catatonia. You heard Joel sigh heavily, easing off your body and creaking to the floor gently. The corners of your mouth turned upward as you hazarded a squint out the corner of your eye to find Joel on his knees in front of you with slight annoyance and concern. 

“That’s better darlin’” he swallowed, a glint in his eyes flashing for the smallest millisecond. He reached over for his plated slice of apple pie, grabbing a small piece with his bare hand and dangling it inches from your mouth.

“Now that I got that pretty mouth to shut up, go ahead and open wide darlin’” he teased, licking his lips with more than hunger.

Your mouth parted lustfully as he delicately placed the gooey desert on your tongue, as you sucked the crumbs off of his fingers. Hissing with arousal his lips formed a small “oh” as you licked the tart sweetness off of his thumb which he dragged across your lower lip.

“Now that’s settled, Baby Girl, it seems to me…somebody said something about a bubble bath…”...

*thanks @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the cool dividers

Happy Birthday!

Ah, our beloved Joel just had a little birthday on the 26th and Tumblr is alight with his beautiful gifties! Pedge wants to give something back, does anyone need a little special attention from Joel Miller?

Pick your color scheme and occasion and Pedge and I are going to craft you a special greeting card! As always, Pedge is a self made man (if you count Bitmoji...). I'm going to keep this request open for the rest of the year for anyone who needs it!

Don't forget to include your color scheme and what occasion we are recognizing. It doesn't have to be one of celebration if you are experiencing a loss, or a bad day or just want a quickie (#ahem encouragement). Pedge is not opposed to sexy exhortations either. Ope, Pedge has already dusted off the crayons and scissors I better get back! PM me for a little pick me up!

Moody Joel

A huge thank you to @yopossum and congrats on the 100+ followers! It was so fun to put your mood board at the epicenter of mine. It not only inspired my first mood-lit, the cherry has been popped with my first fic for Joel! As always, Pedge is a self-made man (if you count Bitmoji...)

Triggers: descriptors are mostly emotional, lots of heroine self-confusion, Jackson-era, raised voices, lite smut, pretty easy stuff, a little profanity. Of course, with Joel it's everything he DOESN'T say...

You sat, curled up on the couch, book in hand, your favorite mug of tea steaming on the nearby side table. The season had started to shift and a blustery wind was drifting through Jackson, not entirely devoid of warning, but still laced with the enigmatic mysteries of autumn. A rare opportunity to enjoy a day without patrols, harvesting or other communal activities, you had busied yourself in the garden, small living room library and the kitchen, waiting for Joel to come home. A quick intake of air as you reminded yourself that this was HIS home, not yours. Pausing in your reading you took a quick glance around the room, finding a few conspicuous items that were starting to dot HIS landscape. 

YOUR favorite mug, the one book you owned, a too small quilt that had taken all year to scrap together. You rubbed your feet together with discomfort, wondering if your presence was starting to become oppressive. Looking over you saw the mismatched boots, messily piled next to each other, seemingly disparate in this moment. Were the seasons changing in more ways than one? Were you starting to get a little TOO comfortable in a world that constantly threatened to unravel itself?

Like a bull in a china shop, you heard Joel crashing through the kitchen assembling the dinner you had prepared. You smiled, wondering if he seemed as noisy to himself, resonating in only one ear. Saying so little, but meaning so much, with a presence that seemed to dominate every space he was in. Maybe there wasn’t room for somebody as small as you.

Joel tiredly lumbered into the living room across creaking floorboards and plopped down on the couch beside you, dinner plated. You cast a sideways glance, unsurprised at his immediate delight, as he shoveled the green beans, chicken and mashed potatoes unceremoniously into his mustached mouth. Salivating slightly at his enjoyment you took a rare moment to gaze at his countenance, watching the muscles in his jaw tick, eyes closed, swallowing steadily and licking his lips. He leaned back, sighing heavily, trying to release the tension of the day.

“Long day?” you ventured, closing your book and nudging your feet under his jean clad thigh.

Joel set the plate down in his lap for a moment, tilting his head back on the couch with exhaustion. It’s possible he hadn’t even heard you as you barely caught his grunt of acknowledgement. So much of life was centered around survival, any luxury seemed nearly ridiculous in comparison. There was nothing about your arrangement that felt manipulative, but maybe it was one sided. Maybe just another utilitarian coping mechanism to survive the next atrocity.

You pulled your feet back under you, surprised at the cascading emotions and thoughts brought on by the autumnal brooding. You looked at the crackling fire, listening for the whistling wind outdoors. Your small house was just across the way, lonely, silent and cold and you wondered if things were starting to become a bit too entwined. Closing your book, you reached over tenderly to swipe a dot of gravy from the corner of his mouth, curious if he had somehow fallen asleep mid-bite. But hearing him hum in appreciation as your fingers drifted up to massage the back of his neck and scratch over his scalp. His chest rumbled with recognition, but you felt a slight pang of regret, curious if you amounted to a hired hand. Somehow a day of comparative solitude had threaded itself through your insecurities and you were suddenly vulnerable to its attack. Your face crumpled in defeat, unable to process so many feelings at once, unwilling to invite Joel into this swirling confusion.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, teetering precariously as you stood up. “I think I’ll take off, you good for the night?”. The clunky words fell out of your mouth, laced with subtitles you couldn’t interpret, as Joel’s eyes shot open confusedly.

“S’wrong?” he grumbled, perhaps more pointedly than intended.

“Nothing’s wrong” you lied, gripping the quilt protectively in front of your body and swaying slightly. “I’m just…tired, I guess…” the fib began to wrap its tendrils around your waist, cutting off the breath at the source.

“Well that’s no reason to leave, I’m just sittin’ down” he complained, furrowing his brow in confusion and wincing slightly as he sat further forward to discern your meaning.

“I know, I just…don’t want to bother you.”

Joel sat unmoving, metaphorical steam starting to emanate off his body in waves. Words didn’t come easily to him, but his survival acumen was unmatched. Something was up.

“Dinner’s real good” he stated, matter-a-factly, as though that communicated intricacies beyond your understanding. Unfortunately, it only solidified your hesitancy, as you were starting to feel like a glorified short order cook. Feeling emotionally naked you gripped the quilt desperately, inching backwards and forgetting the new side table Joel had crafted for your mugs of tea. You were just about to sputter some excuse about the seasons shifting when your heel caught on the table leg, propelling you backwards. Joel’s hand snapped out, grabbing you and the quilt you were holding and knocking his dinner to the ground with a crash.

“Goddamit, will you be more careful?!” he exclaimed, gripping you around the waist and pulling your body between his knees abruptly.

Something about the sudden adrenaline and self-indecision, disoriented your emotions even more than your body and you felt yourself well up with tears, lip wobbling in confusion.

Joel’s expression softened, as did his iron grip, as his fingers moved down your waist and lightly gripped your backside. “What’s gotten into you?’ he questioned, looking around the room as though trying to identify the shift in tonality.

“Don’t know” you lied again, unable to disentangle yourself from the growing self-loathing.

“You wanna leave?” he raised his voice, trying desperately to grasp at the threads of understanding.

“No” you pouted, finally assured of one truth. You didn’t want to leave. You just wanted to stay forever.

He huffed an exasperated puff of air into your face, squinting skeptically into your guilty expression. “Door’s right there, honey…just…” he shot back defensively, noticing the pools of emotion swimming in your eyes…”…just…”. He swallowed hard, as time started to drip more slowly, blurring his perception. He looped a finger through one of your belt buckles, tugging your hips jerkily.

“Just…is cold out, s’all” he managed to mutter, looking down at your lips disappointedly. “Gotta be careful” he grumbled, drawing his thumb across the small snippet of skin peeking from underneath your threadbare sweater. You melted a little bit at his touch, drawing yourself down onto his lap tentatively. You placed your hands on his chest, breathing together in sync, trying to take in the moment. “Gotta stick together” he rationalized, feeling a small pulse of emotion in his chest threaten to crest. The wind howled louder still, almost in agreement.“ You should stay” he suggested, placing his hands on your thighs and moving his thumb in small circles. “Dinner was REAL good” he repeated “until you made me drop it” he smirked, lightening the mood.

You felt your chest expand in a contented breath, settling down further onto his lap and relaxing slightly. “There’s more where that came from” you sulked, a little unsure of yourself.

Joel waited patiently as you sat atop him, moving his hands to your back and watching you intently.

“It IS starting to get colder” you reasoned, feeling some of your insecurity melting away with the day’s troubles.

Joel nodded his head gruffly in agreement, latching a finger at the collar of your sweater and slowly pulling you towards him. “Gotta stick together” he repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, when you kissed him with newfound abandon.

Moody Pena

I've been having so much fun with mood boards, I hope writers can utilize them for inspiration! Appropriately titled, one of my favorite authors is @jolapeno and I've saved a billion of their fics for late night sexy literature. I hope you will check some of them out and stay tuned for our next installment of New York, New York. Pedge finds himself auditioning for "Narcos" in the Big Apple and needs YOUR help...

Make Me Like the Holidays Soft Joel The Day Frankie Came Home Can You Ever Really Know? I Like the Way You... It's the Sniffles Late Night Texts Do Me Yourself Unwrap Me Now Don't Move Honey Just Thinking... Fifteen Hundred and One There's Nothing Blue About You

Moody Pedge

Mood Boards are something new I'm trying for those literary moments I want to do a shout out or a quick vibe of Pedro Fun! Pedge is obviously a self-made man but I haven't had the heart to tell him that Bitmoji is also involved. He might be moody, but chocolate chip cookies always seem to regulate him...

Rainy Day Moody Dieter Moody Pena Moody Joel Moody Javi Moody Frankie Moody Marcus Moody Max Moody Dave Moody Silva Moody Acacius Moody Moreno Moody Mom Moody Oberyn Moody Maxwell Moody Dio Moody Lucien Moody Bi Moody Whiskey Moody SNL Moody Met Moody Rockford Moody Thespian Moody SAG Awards Moody Fall Moody Witch Moody Ricky Moody Gladiator Moody Nathan Moody Zodiac (Dieter style) Moody Pirate Pedge (Halloween short) Moody Thanksgiving Moody Fink Moody Theater Moody Superbowl

Writers, please feel free to use any of these mood boards for inspiration! Just give me a tag so I can read your AMAZING fics! Let's get writing!

Hey beauties! Welcome to Pedge's World, our little corner of the digital universe where healing, freedom and chocolate chip cookies reign supreme! Pedge helps me sort through all of my sad, sexy, angry, euphoric, hungry, cranky, spiritual, creative moods! I hope you will join us! 18+, no minors!

Sexy Series Masterlist (RPF)

Let's Stick Together!

Art Projects Dieter's Art Studio; My Darling Muse

Afterglow Series Dead Dove December; The Deepest Cut

Pedge's Campsite

Fun With Mood Boards!

Pedro Boys

Pedro Posts, Polls and Prompts

Pedge's Juke Box

Pedge Tweets!

Pedge's Bookshop

Pedge's Cinema

Pedro Scouts Glamping

A big thank you to @pedroscouts for this fun summer time activity! I ran into Pedge and he gently mentioned that my solo tent was a bit messy. He suggested some after care and a light massage because I was such a hot mess, so I've organized myself a bit more.

Ranks/Pledge I Pledge to Pedge Song Fic Use SomebodyPedge's Favorites Fan Art Papi Pascal Personal ArtJoel Miller @norththelemon Ellie and Joel @pebblume Din and Grogu @lupinsuniverse Game of Thrones Era @craftingwithamyc Esquire Magazine @saminadorazahi Beldro Ramscal Marcus Moreno We Can Be Heroes @firsttarotreader Cockwarming @flightlessangelwings Coffee Shop Coffee Shop Date @mermaidgirl30 Routine @endlessthxxghts Dieter Salt, Shot, Lime @freelancearsonist Enemies to Lovers Enjoy the Silence @strang3lov3 Whiskey Daniels How Much Does Devotion Weigh? @anabdaniels Ezra How to Write for Ezra @morallyinept Helianthus Fan Art @millersblud Sex Pollen Scarlet Haze @katiexpunk Only One Bed Killing Me Softly Series @alltheirdamn Frankie Morales Do You Feel It Too? @burntheedges Fluff + Smut Is Joel Okay? @djarinmuse Hurt/Comfort I Know Who You Are Series @punkshortChronicSweet DreamsNothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfictionYou're My Stranger In the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Slow Burn Pike's Place Joel Miller Somewhere to Run @punkshortJust Ralphy @ameerawrites

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's very important that I continue earning badges. Pedge assures me that the reward of personal hard work is quite fulfilling and I'm not just talking about scout cookies. Happy summer activities!

loved this sooo sooo muchhh!!!! you're an amazing author!

'i know who you are' masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

-or-

Joel has to make you fall in love with him all over again.

Series Warnings: smut MDNI (18+), post outbreak, language, angst, hurt/comfort, graphic depictions of violence, amnesia, slow burn, minor infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter

Status: complete

I started a notifications blog in lieu of a taglist: @punkshort-notifs

Chapters:

1: the beginning

2: the journal

3: the accident

4: the others

5: the dinner

6: the fight

7: the week

8: the return

9: the end

Extras/BTS/Inspo:

Floor Plan

Pregnancy Scare headcanon

Drabbles/Requests:

Never Enough - a day in the life pre-accident

Before - the morning of the accident

Jealous - you finds out about Angie (the first time)

Stubborn - the night Joel convinces you to make things official

It didn't mean anything - Joel finds out about your history with Ben for the first time

Three Words - You remember another memory, this one more special than the rest

dividers by @saradika-graphics

this is honestly so sad

Just this once

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!babysitter!reader

Summary: Everyone hates you in town, everyone except for Mr. Miller, who was kind enough to hire you as his daughter's babysitter.

Warnings: mentally and verbally abusive father, angst, unreciprocated love, no happy ending. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie

Everyone hated you in this town.

Kids at school, moms, dads, even grandparents sometimes.

People crossed the street when they saw you, they waited until you turned around to whisper and scorn to the person beside them.

Everywhere you went, followed dirty looks and rude remarks.

In the hallways at school, at the drug store, pharmacy, park, you name it.

Everywhere, everyone seemed to despise old Carl's daughter just for being born, or maybe, maybe also because of the rumors that spread about her.

Like the one where you dealt drugs, which was not not the truth... but you never dealt meth.

Or the one where you'd fucked half the guys in town,

And least but not last, the one where you were the reason you poor pops had turned to alcohol.

Except they didn't know anything. they didn't know that your "poor pops" had begun his diet of a bottle of whiskey a day long before you were born, that he drove your mom mad to the point where she had fled without so much as a goodbye, leaving behind a few clothes and a stupid scrap of paper where she had written a fucking lie.

I love you

If she had actually loved you, she wouldn't have left.

And they didn't know that all the anger your father had, had turned to you, they didn't know how scary it was, to be afraid of your own father, to be alone at the age of thirteen, to have to take care of yourself, to have to grow up faster than you should.

They all hated you, and you didn't care, you swore you didn't care, because they didn't know, they didn't know shit.

But Mr. Miller was different.

He was the only person, together with his daughter, who had ever shown you kindness, the real kind.

He had seen you sobbing as you ran from your house after your dad had another one of his "episodes".

And god, you were so confused when he stopped you, when he put a hand on your shoulder and asked if everything was alright.

And you didn't tell him then, you didn't tell him everything that was going on and that your dad was an asshole and that your life was hell, you couldn't, there was always this everlasting shame fizzing underneath your skin whenever you felt the need to share. But he hadn't cared, he hadn't cared that you had told him nothing, he hadn't cared that all you did was say sorry and I need to go, because with just a glance it felt like he had seen right through you.

So then he'd told you where he lived, and even if that time he couldn't convince you to come in, it was you who showed up at his doorsteps two nights after, asking for a place to sleep which he offered without so much as a question.

And it was only a week later when you told him everything.

He had sat and listened as you cried and cried, he had stroked your hair and given you tissues, until finally, he offered you a job.

Babysitting his kid.

And you were scared at first, you weren't really equipped for the job, but the moment you met Sarah you realized just how easy it was gonna be.

taking care of her was fun, and it gave you an excuse to be away from your own home, sometimes even at night when the mere thought of seeing your father made you want to puke.

And Mr. Miller was always nice, he made breakfast, overpaid you like crazy, and he listened, he was always there to listen.

"dad, what are you talking about?" 

Mr. Miller's backyard was always perfectly mowed, and the treehouse he'd built his daughter stood high on the oak in the middle of it.

"I said-" even if you couldn't see him, you swore he was taking another gulp straight from the bottle " Where the fuck are you?" 

"I'm working dad, I told you" you said, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"You working?" he laughed "That's funny" he said, as his laugh turned into a disgusting cough "Tell me where you really are." his voice was slurry, but the anger in it still made you shiver "You at one of your boyfriends' houses?"

"No Dad, I'm at Mr. Miller's house" you sighed, it was sad really, how used you were to this by now.

"Mr. Miller huh?" a hiccup sounded through the phone "You fucking him too? You started going for older guys? Is that it? I bet that's it you little slut" he hissed "Your mother would be so disappointed... to see her only daughter grow up to be such a fucking whore"

There's a difference, when it's strangers calling you names, and when it's your own father.

You'd always wished his words didn't affect you, but somehow, they always found a way to hurt.

No matter how tough you made yourself to be, when it was him, you felt like a kid all over again.

"fuck you" you muttered, as tears pricked your eyes 

"Is that how you talk to your father you little bitch? Just wait till you come home, I'll see what you'll have to say then-"

And there were so many things you wanted to tell him, to scream at him, to drill into his non-existing brain, but all you did was press the red button and hung up.

And it took about a second before the tears started flowing like rivers.

You ran back inside the house, forgetting all about closing the glass door as you curled into a ball on the couch, trying to cry as silently as you could, so that Sarah wouldn't wake up.

You hated him. You hated everything, you just wanted to run away and start a new life somewhere else, Canada, Austria, even the fucking north pole sounded better than this.

You were just so tired, so exhausted. Every time you talked to your father all the energy you had, or thought you had left, got drained from your body, and for hours, you remained lifeless,

The only exception was when-

The front door opened, and those purposely quiet footsteps that you would have recognized anywhere, followed soon after.

Him, the only exception was when he was there to comfort you.

You sat up, quickly wiping your tears to try and look somewhat presentable.

"hey," he whispered, entering the living room "Sarah's asleep?"

"mh-mh, yes" you nodded

"I'm sorry I came home this late, it's just that the guys wanted to go out after work and I always tell them no..." he trailed off, as he sat next to you and got rid of his overused boots.

"I-It's not a problem, Mr. Miller"

He shook his head, smiling in that charming way of his as he sat his shoes next to the coffee table and turned to look at you.

"How many times have I told you that you can just call me J-"

But his words died in his throat the moment he caught a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes, (that he'd come to know too well) and of that look on your face.

"What happened?"

They were such simple words, but they hit like tnt too close to a dam, breaking the barrier and causing all the water to run out.

His arms were around you the moment the first tear fell.

"shh" he cooed, stroking your back as you sobbed into his chest "It's alright, everythin's alright, sweetheart"

You wrapped your arms around his broad torso, feeling all his muscles underneath the fabric as you drowned in his scent. He always smelt so manly and so... good.

"I-I'm sorry it's just" A sob climbed up your throat "He-he called and I-I" You never finished the sentence as other tears started flowing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry honey" he cooed, placing his cheek on top of your head"it's ok" he murmured "It's all gonna be fine, I promise"

"w-when?" you cried, finally looking up at him "I'm so tired of this Mr. Miller..."

"soon" he promised "You're a smart girl, you'll get far in life sweetheart, I just know it"

you breathed heavily into his chest for a few minutes, listening to his heart beat as you calmed your own.

"t-thank you" you sniffled

"of course, darlin'"

And as you glanced at him, at his soft beard, at his kind eyes, your brain short-circuited and your mouth got a mind of its own, and before you realized it, your lips were on his.

And god he felt so good

"y/n-" he spoke as you tried to deepen the kiss "What are you doing?"

"I just-" you stuttered, not able to tear your glaze off his soft lips "please" you murmured, not knowing what else to say as you leaned up to kiss him again,

"sweetheart this ain't right I-"

"please Mr. Miller" you begged, placing your hand on his shoulder and pecs, as you left a quick kiss on his lips again "please just this once"

"y/n..." he tried to speak but was interrupted by your mouth finding his neck.

"please" you repeated for the thousandth time, your breath fanning over his neck "just this one time" 

"darlin'... I don't know if this is a good idea"

"it is" you quickly corrected him, your kisses lowering down his body, until all you could do was shuffle off the couch to get between his parted legs "it's a really good idea"

You saw him swallow thickly at the sight before him

"no sweetheart, you don't gotta do that"

"I want to" you reassured him, hurriedly undoing his belt and zipper until his black boxers were all that obstructed your view.

You palmed his manhood through the fabric, feeling it harden underneath your palm, before you gently took it out, looking up at him for approval as you wrapped one hand around it and let your lips follow suit.

A loud shuddering breath fled his mouth as you fitted more and more of him into your mouth, and you took it as an incentive to get lower, fully choking on his cock.

"f-fuck" he groaned

You started bobbing your head up and down, your eyes never leaving the sight of him breathing heavily before you.

You were doing good, but you wanted to do amazing for Mr. Miller, so you gingerly took his cock out of your mouth to start a slow trail of kisses and kitty lips down the whole length of him, until you reached his balls, and without a second thought, reserved them of the same treatment, before starting to suck on those too.

"fuck. me." he breathed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes.

You leaned away for a moment, still pumping him with your hand "Does it feel good?" you asked

"fuck-yeah sweetheart" he gulped, looking down at you "it feels real fucking good- you're-fuck-you're amazing"

The biggest smile ever spread on your face at that, and with a renewed vigor, you got back to sucking his balls even better.

series of profanities continued coming out of his mouth as you got back to his dick, letting your tongue run on his tip for a few moments before getting back to filling your mouth with it.

You watched his hands curl by his sides, and without thinking, you let one of your own travel to his, softly placing your palm over it in a makeshift hold, which wasn't really a hold because he didn't turn his hand to do it properly.

But it didn't matter now, he was enjoying this, something you were doing for him, something you had dreamed of doing to him times and times again, and that's all you cared about.

You bobbed your head for a few more moments before you leaned away and quickly got up to get rid of your pants.

He watched you, too fucked out and torn with guilt and confusion to understand anything anymore, step out of your panties, place your hands on his shoulders, and straddle him.

you reached down for his dick, and without too much of a premise, sank down on it.

"oh god" you moaned, stopping a moment to take a deep breath at the feeling, as a low groan rumbled in his chest.

"you feel so good" you murmured, kissing him passionately as you started riding him.

His hands gripped your waist as a way for him to try and ground himself back on this earth because fuck but, you felt fucking good too

"touch my tits please" you said, ghosting his mouth.

"Sweetheart..."

"Please, Mr. Miller" you pouted, rising and sinking from his cock even faster

"Joel- please call me Joel" 

"Please Joel, touch my tits"

And who was he to say no to you when you asked him like that?

One of his big strong hands seeped underneath your top and found your boobs, stroking and grabbing at them heavenly.

You couldn't help but gasp at the mix of pleasures, your head falling to the crook of his neck.

The sound bouncing off the walls of the living room was straight out dirty and the breeze coming from the open glass door on your left softly floated through the room, at times hitting your raw skin.

"oh my god" you whimpered, muffled by Joel's skin "o-oh my"

He was filling every inch of you, stretching you so fucking good it made you want to scream if it wasn't for Sarah sleeping just upstairs.

You lost yourself in him, in his soft grunts, in his most raw scent, in the way his beard rutted against your cheek, and slowly, slowly you felt a bubble form in your belly, getting more and more ready to explode.

"F-fuck" you whined, "I-I think I'm-I'm coming"

His only response was to tighten his hold on you, before you fastened your pace, desperately chasing your high.

your breathing got even heavier as you remerged from his neck to look at him in the eyes and meet his lips with yours once again.

Kissing his was like traveling to another universe, he was just so... perfect

 "Joel" you whispered, losing yourself in his hazel eyes, as the pleasure got stronger and stronger until you felt like you could barely breathe "Joel I love you"

You watched his eyes widen slightly but before he could speak your orgasm took over your body and you had to hide your head in the crook of his neck again to try not to moan too loud.

"it's ok" he murmured, placing a hand on the back of your head soothingly "It's all gonna be ok sweetheart"

You rode out your high, never stopping your movements, and by the time you had come down from it, Joel was on the verge of it.

"shit-I'm coming" he groaned "Where do you want it?"

 "inside" you whispered without missing a beat

"I c-can't honey-"

"please Joel" you whimpered, starting to get overstimulated "Please fill me up, Joel"

And with that simple sentence, he was done for.

"fuck-shit. shitshitshitshit" That's all he managed to spit out, as ropes of his come filled you up to the brim, just like you wanted.

You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling his scent one more time, before you slowly got off of him.

And as you did, the moment it was all done, a strange sensation overtook you.

you'd thought that this was all you wanted, that this was gonna make you feel better, and yet... yet you couldn't help but feel like a piece of you was missing, you couldn't help but feel emptier than you were to begin with.

As you watched him hurry to put his boxers back on, you couldn't help but think that, once again, you had managed to fuck everything up.

this shit is so cute

Elementary Masterlist

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader

series rating: E (minors DNI, 18+ only, single dad!joel, smut to come)

summary: You’re Sarah’s fifth grade teacher, and after meeting her father at a parent/teacher conference, you find yourself developing a strong interest and affection for the two struggling Millers.

chapters marked with * indicate explicit content. minors DNI.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three*

Chapter Four*

Chapter Five*

Chapter Six*

drabble: the bakesale*

drabble: out of my depth

Chapter Seven*

drabble: the night out

Chapter Eight*

drabble: the perfect fit

drabble: the distraction*

drabble: a hard day

drabble: winter break

Chapter Nine*

drabble: a helping hand

drabble: dad duty

drabble: christmas 2006

Finale*

drabble: the gift

drabble: the show of appreciation*

drabble: the ranch*

Love your workkk!!!!!

Soo I have a request…

Soo established relationships where the reader as a joke mockingly says something like about our old man Joel’s stamina or something 😭 and then ofc joel gives her a lesson whole night with all the filth 😛😭😭 (also can reader be like skinny framed small chested female) 💜

Thank you so much!! It means a lot! Hope you like it :)

Old Man

Summary: You usually joke about Joel's age, not only between the two of you, but also around other people. Either because he walks or runs slower than you, or just because he gets tired easily. He never complained about it - in fact, you thought he found it endearing. But you were so wrong, and he made sure he'd let you know when you got home safe.

Pairing: Joel x fem!reader, established relationship.

Content/Warnings: NSFW, smut (absolute filth), 18+ (minors DNI), age difference implied, fingering, giving oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (use protection kids), spitting.

Notes: English is not my first language, so please excuse any mistake. Please feel free to leave any requests you'd like me to write. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you!

The walk through the forest on your way to Bill and Frank's house was calmer than you'd expected. With your hand in Joel's you didn't find a single clicker and you managed to relax a bit, walking slowly but not so slow in order to reach the village before lunch. Frank made sure to tell Joel that we'd be received with a proper meal, something you haven't had in a long time. So that was exciting. You didn't know them yet, but Joel made sure to let you know they were decent guys.

The place was mined with traps for clickers and you could see surveillance cameras everywhere. These guys knew what they were doing. Once you saw the gate opening and an unknown man greet you from afar, you out of instinct positioned yourself behind Joel. His broad shoulders completely hiding your small figure. You were scared, and that was understandable.

"You're alright, sweetheart." Joel assured you, holding your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss it for a second.

His words put you at ease, as you saw the man approach both of you. He shook Joel's hand with familiarity, looking at you after. The fact Joel trusted them was enough for you to do the same.

"Who's this beauty?" you heard him ask, extending his hand to shake yours.

You smiled. "None of that, please." You spoke before telling him your name. "Thank you for having us here."

"Our absolute pleasure. I'm Frank." he shot a smile at you again, before gesturing to the entry of the house. "And that's Bill over there." You looked at the man from a distance, just to notice a rifle on his hand. Frank noticed your expression. "Don't worry about him."

You smiled once again at Frank out of courtesy, but sneakily grabbed Joel's hand behind his back in worry.

"Let's sit! Lunch is almost ready." Frank gestured to the table set up on their front yard, and guided you both to his house with an extended arm.

***

"This is delicious!" You exclaimed.

"Bill made it." Frank pointed out.

"It's great, thank you so much." You kept speaking after putting down your glass on the table. You looked at Bill with an attentive eye.

"It's nothing much. Just meat that I hunted and some roasted vegetables from the garden." He kept his voice low and expression serious.

"Thank you, Bill." You heard Joel's voice from across the table in front of you.

"I'm sorry but I'm dying to know." You heard Frank at your right, as his body rapidly turned in your direction. "How did you meet this guy?" He gestured to Joel.

You looked at him and laughed. "Well, I had been alone for a while, and I was perfectly fine on my own." You made sure to look at him, mockingly. "But Joel found me in a time of need. He helped me without asking nothing in return. So I trusted him my life, and now we're here."

Frank smiled through the whole speech. "You must be the first, you know."

You shot him a confused look. "The first?"

He shook his head in approval. "The first to melt that old stone heart of his."

"Is it that noticeable?" You admitted.

"Please!" He exclaimed with a grin. "I've never seen him hug anyone, let alone kiss someone's hand that dearly."

You felt yourself blush slighty, before looking at Joel. He laughed, while telling Frank to cut it out.

"No worries, we're all lovers here." He placed his fork down on his plate. "How are you guys holding up?" He spoke now to Joel.

"We're making it alright. Walking from dawn to dawn is a bit tiring but we manage."

"Our old man here thinks he can handle that like a 20 year old. I notice his stamina's hanging on by a thread, always tired and irritable." You spoke while looking Frank in the eye. "It's like living with a 60 year old man." Just after, you turned to Joel, who was chewing his food slowly, fork in his right hand unattended, and turned his gaze from your glass to your eyes. His stare was somewhat still and serious. You analised his expression with confusion and mouthed a "what?" that only him could hear or see. He stared at you the same way before slightly grinning at you, dragging his eyes now to his plate, smile still plastered on his face while he brought food to his mouth. You continued looking at him until Frank spoke.

"I'm sure there's a car around here you could have." He wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin. "There's batteries in the houseshed. Take one and it's yours." I saw Bill shoot his partner a hard serious look, apprehensive.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bill insisted.

"Of course." He shot back at him. "There's also gas in there. Take some gallons."

"That's really not necessary, Frank." Joel spoke.

"Oh it is. I don't take her for a liar, you on the other hand, I've seen you lie for far less. I also know you're a stubborn old gentleman." He placed the napkin on his lap. "So please, take it. Use it. There's no point in it being there."

You looked at Bill for approval. He just continued eating with furrowed brows.

"Thank you." You spoke.

"No need. I'll go grab dessert." You saw Frank leave his seat and enter the house.

***

Joel had been awfully quiet since lunch, even when Frank showed us around all the shops who were still in need of renovation. Not even his contractor heart gave in a little bit. His mind seemed to be somewhere else.

"We don't know how to thank you both, honestly." You spoke as Bill and Frank helped you put your things in the trunk of your new car. It was getting dark already.

Frank repeated himself again, saying it was his pleasure.

Once Joel thanked the men for the hundreth time, he got in the car after opening the door for you. The journey was quiet for most part, until you spoke softly.

"Are you okay? You haven't spoken a lot."

He turned his eyes at you for a second, before connecting his gaze to the road again. "Just tired."

Your hand rested on his tigh, a familiar gesture you'd gained in the past few months. You thought nothing of his behaviour, you were both exhausted from the walk through the forest and the day filled with activities Bill and Frank made sure to provide you.

The ride went quickly, faster than you'd think it would. You filled it with quick pecks on Joel's right cheek, in order to 'wake him up' a bit. His hand travelled to the inside of your tigh, squeezing every once in a while. All was quiet.

As soon as you parked, you got out of the car in order to pick up both your stuff, as Joel would eventually carry all the weapons. When you returned you saw him carrying your stuff inside the house.

You spoke as you entered the house first, Joel following behind you. "I'm so fucking tired." You stretched your arms in the air before hearing a thud. All your weapons on the floor as Joel dropped them. Arms still in the air, you felt Joel's arms grab the middle of your body, folding you in half over his shoulder.

"Joel!" You screamed as he lifted you up in the air, adjusting you on his body. "What are you doing?"

He carried you in silence. This must be a joke, you thought. He's just being playful. He'll put you down soon enough, if you ask him to. You recognized the turns he took. After passing the kitchen right up front, passing through the main hall, up the stairs. Bedroom.

He didn't even bother to close the door. "Joel." You repeated, trying to catch his attention.

He dropped you in the middle of the bed with a throw. "Yes?" He aknowledged you as he started to unbuckle his belt, looking at your figure, legs bent, feet next to your tighs. His eyes were dark, his expression solemn. You moved up the bed on your back, as you watched him take his shirt off over his head and quickly discarting his pants. He paused for a second, looking at you, half clothed.

"Take your clothes off."

You quickly took your pants off, still looking him in the eye, overwhelmed by his demanding voice. "You take the rest." You replied.

He rapidly got closer to you, but you extended one of your naked legs, touching his chest, creating a gap between you both, trying to get his attention. "What is this?"

With more force than usual, Joel grabbed your leg and separated both of them, one to each side, hovering his body over yours, applying pressure on your chest. Your mouths were connected in an instant. His tongue not even asking permission to touch yours. His right hand went between your legs, slid your panties to the side and felt your wet core on his fingers, until quickly finding your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck, Joel." You breathed slowly on his ear.

"How are you so wet already?" He asked as he inserted two fingers inside you at once.

"Oh, fuck-" You moaned beneath him.

You heard him grunt as a response. His fingers pumping in and out of you rythmically, hitting your favourite spot every now and then, making you sigh every single time. Joel disconnected his lips from yours, only to travel down your body, and end up on your core. He wasted no time, immediately kissing your clit, while pulling his fingers in and out of you faster. Your hands flew to his head, grabbing and pulling on his silver strands of hair, which only made him respond in a gutural moan. The vibrations of his mouth sending you into a frenzy, giving you chills.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You were losing your fucking mind, begging him to take you right there and then.

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” You heard him between your legs. “I’m not done with you down here.” He continued his rhythmic motions.

Your eyes started to roll to the back of your head as he hit the right spot with every pump. “I’m not gonna last longer.” You tried to spit words out of your mouth the best you could.

“Cum on my mouth, gorgeous.” He said before fastening his pace. It took you just a few seconds to arch your back in pleasure, grabbing his hair between your fingers and pulling viciously. With your eyes closed, you felt him remove his fingers from you, which left you with a sense of void. His body above yours again.

“Open wide.” He demanded.

You did as he told. He spat inside your mouth. You receiving it with contentment. You looked him in the eye while you swallowed his spit mixed with your own fluids.

“Shit, look at you.” His lips attacked yours. “So fucking pretty like this.”

“Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You teased him.

“In a minute, sweet girl.” You saw him take his boxers off, throw them to the bedroom floor. He lifted your t-shirt over your head, removing it and made way to your breasts with his mouth, sucking on your nipples, biting them.

Just by looking at you, and without warning, Joel fully pushed himself inside you, letting you feel every inch of him stretch you beyond measure.

You couldn’t say a word, just animalistic noises came out of your mouth. Joel loved them so much he continued adjusting your pussy around his cock, feeling you clench every few seconds.

“Fuck Joel, stop teasing. Go faster.” You pleaded.

His voice next to your ear. “You’ve been teasing me all day, calling me old man. Telling people I haven’t got stamina.” It clicked in your mind. You always called him that dearly. You heard one more grunt from him as he thrust into you deeply. “Who’s been fucking you all this time?”

Your mouth falling open as the knot in your stomach build after a few faster thrusts, your head banging on the headboard.

“Who makes your eyes roll like that?” You heard him, head thrown back in the pillow. “Who makes you this fucking wet, hum?” You heard the wet noises you two made after he picked up his pace.

“You do, Joel.” You managed to spit out.

“Who makes you cum every single fucking night?”

Tears fell down your eyes, as you cried to reach your orgasm. “You do.”

“My sweet girl.” He continued, while wiping your tears for a second. “You’re gonna take me in your mouth, is that okay?”

“Yes.” Your answer to his question mixed with your cries as your orgasm sets free. Your moans echo all over the room, you can’t help it. Still enjoying your high, you feel Joel’s warm spur hitting your face, some entering your mouth, some spilling all over your cheeks and neck. You did the best you could to catch it all in. You opened your eyes to Joel with his cock in his hand, still rock hard.

“What a fucking sight.” He continued pumping his length. You swallowed his cum, until there was nothing to come out anymore. “God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You grabbed him by his neck, forcing him to glue his mouth to yours, letting him taste himself from your tongue for a minute.

Panting, sweaty and with disheveled hair, you looked into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t ever tease me like that again.” You demanded.

“You want it.” He paused, a proud cocky smile on his face. “Don’t ever call me an old man again.”

“You love it.”

You felt his arm wrap around your torso and pull you on top of him, sitting you up on his lap, just before lifting you up to the bathroom for a shower. The air contaminated with condensation and your laughter.

THIS WAS SOOO🤪😗😌😇🙂😘😛😋😂🤣🥲😃☺️😋😛🤪😎😝😝🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 SPEACHLESSSSS

honey don't feed it, it will come back (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Bodyguard!Joel x Sex Worker F!Reader

Summary: You run a brothel in the Boston QZ, devoting yourself to taking care of your girls. When the safety of one is threatened, you hire a bodyguard in the form of the surly Joel Miller to protect them. Little did you know that you were going to become his new favorite vice, and him your favorite addiction.

Warnings: MDNI Explicit Smut (oral f receiving, v fingering, Joel jacks off while going down on Reader, dirty talk, bit of a sir kink, bit of a brat tamer dynamic). Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart). Alcohol/drug use. Sex work (Joel listens to Reader). Age gap (20 years). Mentions of physical assault (towards minor characters, never from Joel. Not stated to be sexual assault but it can be inferred as such, so please take care of yourselves).

Wordcount: 9.6k (how the fuck)

The world was fucked to all hell and back, and so what did men do in those circumstances?

“Oh fuck,” your customer was grunting as he fucked into you from behind, your hands on the headboard as it rocked against the wall to keep yourself up, breathy moans expertly leaving your lips to spur them on, even if you hadn’t felt an inkling of desire in years.

Yeah.

They fucked.

Fight or flight were often referred to in the first years following the Outbreak, a default of survival instinct that most everybody resorted to in order to survive.

But fucking was the much less talked about, incredibly prevalent third option.

It became clear in the Quarantine Zones that there was a need to be filled here, a way to satisfy that urge in a way that wouldn’t cause a barely held-together society inside high walls to erupt into chaos.

From this need, brothels made an appearance. While FEDRA had nothing to do with the establishments officially, they turned a very convenient blind eye to the street corners where women trying to make some kind of a living in the QZ took up their stations, tempting any lonely man who may wander by into a night of needed release.

It was a dangerous profession, in its own way. Contraceptives were long expired twenty years after the society collapsed, and even if a client pulled out at the best time and you were keeping track of your cycle, there was always the risk of being put out of work for around 9 months if you were unlucky.

And then came the obsession.

Clients could become far too eager far too quickly, addicted to the touch and feeling of a certain girl, mistaking lust for affection and lurking around those street corners before the night even came or, worse, outside the brothel doors.

You’d experienced it first-hand and through other girls, but it wasn’t until one of the younger ones came to you with a black eye and bruised jaw that you had had enough.

“Who did it?” you said in a low tone, breathing deeply in and out through your nose as you tried to control yourself, reigning yourself back in from the need to grab the gun you kept tucked in the top drawer of your rickety old nightstand and find who the fuck had laid their hands on one of your girls in such a way.

After years of being in the business, you had gone from only taking clients to keeping a watchful eye over the other women who made the same living you did. Your glory days were mostly behind you, but you still had your reputation, even after the incident that left you with a jagged scar that stretched vertically across the right side of your face, from above your eyebrow, down across your eye to just below your cheekbone.

Those clients you did still have preferred to fuck you with you facing away from them now, but you weren’t complaining. Not seeing their ugly faces as they used you to cum helped you dissociate, focus your thoughts on how well you were going to eat the next few days because of a few minutes of sacrifice.

The young woman whose lip was trembling as you held her hands gently in yours now was hardly past her early twenties, a sweet young thing who you had taken under your wing when she confessed needing a way to get some extra ration cards for her little brother who had gotten sick recently.

You had snuck Isabel some of your own ration cards with each of her payments, not caring that you had a bit less to eat each night, especially when she had come to you a couple weeks later with a bright smile and the news that her brother’s health had improved.

Now that smile that could light up the whole goddamn QZ was nowhere to be seen, an abject horror darkening her gaze, making her angelic face gaunt as you reached up to gently hold it, tilting it so you could assess the extent of the damage.

Her eyes, a deep honeyed brown that had drawn in the most clients your brothel had seen in years, were avoiding yours as you searched for her gaze, and you gently directed her face back towards you, voice softer as you implored her, “Isabel. Please, talk to me, babygirl.”

A choked sob was the first sound to leave her mouth then at the sound of your genuine affection. The world may be fucked, but protecting these girls was your purpose. And the thought of not being enough to protect them, for one of them to come to you like this…

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you whispered as her petite form collapsed against yours, holding her close as you smoothed a hand over the tangles in her hair, gently combing them out with your fingers as your other hand rubbed at her back. “It’ll be okay, love. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Even as you assured her, a fear was creating pressure in the back of your mind, causing the first of many sleepless nights as you tried to figure out how to make sure this could never happen again.

You sat at your little makeshift desk in your tiny room on the top floor of the brothel, a cheap cigarette you had just gotten from a couple smugglers perched between your fingers as you slowly exhaled the smoke, staring down at your incoherent scribbled notes.

With a groan, you pushed yourself away from the desk, standing to cross over to the small window on the wall, gazing out in paranoia to make sure there were no dark shadows lingering nearby, waiting to get a hold of one of your girls if they didn’t want it.

Glancing back down at the lit cigarette, you pondered your few options.

FEDRA was not a viable source for protection. Yes, they turned a blind eye on your activities, but they would never risk their image by offering guards for your girls. Besides, you didn’t trust anybody in one of those uniforms within an inch of your life.

Fireflies weren’t a fucking option either. Those jackasses were so far up the proverbial ass of justice that they couldn’t see the actual struggles of the real people around them, subjecting them to be collateral in whatever useless statement they were making lately.

The cigarette was raised halfway to your lip when you paused, staring down at it as you suddenly had a small epiphany.

Who did you know that had not an ounce of a moral code, but a strong work ethic and determination to get the job done for a good deal that promised a stack of ration cards?

A smirk curled onto your lips then as you brought the cigarette back to them, placing it in your mouth as you took a long drag, exhaling it towards the window and watching it fog up the glass as you realized exactly who you were heading to.

“We don’t do protection,” your smuggling contact was saying, her voice as gruff and no-nonsense as always, and you sighed, meeting her sharp green eyes straight on as you shifted to cross your legs.

“Don’t bullshit me, Tess,” you said flatly back, your voice not harsh, but definitely firm, calling her out on her bluff even as you saw her ever-present guard dog shift a ways behind her at your tone. “You’ll do anything for a good trade. And I have that.”

“I don’t wanna fuck your girls,” Tess dismissed, waving her hand as if to brush the thought away, and you rolled your eyes, even as you couldn’t help a smirk, glancing at your associate with a small hint of mirth that matched her own.

“I’m not offering that,” you replied honestly, slowly drumming your fingers at the small table you were both seated at in one of the back alleys where these deals tended to go down. Public enough to avoid a shootout, but private enough to avoid FEDRA breathing down your backs. “My girls get paid for their work. So would you.”

Tess raised an eyebrow then, leaning in just a fraction, and you knew that you had captured just a fraction of her attention.

Good. You could work with that.

“What are we talking?” she asked in a low tone, voice still disinterested, gaze still closed off, but you knew that would change when you laid out the conditions of the deal.

When you did—offering a heft of ration cards (that they didn’t need to know was almost your entire cut of the brothel’s proceeds) for an able body to keep watch at your brothel during active business hours—Tess leaned back again, eyes flickering over your face as she processed the information.

“You know I’m good for it, Tess,” you implored, allowing a bit of emotion to creep into your tone now as you meet her gaze, hoping she would hear what you were asking for, woman to woman. “And these girls…they need it.”

She frowned then, sympathy flashing over her face as she glanced over yours, hearing what went unsaid.

Tess began to turn her head slightly over her shoulder, though she didn’t bother sparing a glance back as she called, “Joel.”

That was the first time you think you’d heard the name of her silent, watchful companion.

You knew that they were a package deal, but whenever you met with Tess, he lingered in the background, making sure you didn’t lay a hand on her.

Good, you thought to yourself, glancing over at him as he pushed himself off the wall and strolled over just at the unspoken order she gave for him to approach. If he’s who she has in mind, hopefully he does the same for the girls.

It was also the first time you really got a look at the man who Tess finally introduced you, explaining to the both of you how this was going to work at the same moment.

With those thick arms that could be around your neck as fast as you could blink, hardened dark eyes that were already measuring you up and calculating at least six ways to take you out before you could even open your mouth to say hello, you knew that just the sight of him in your brothel would strike fear into the depraved hearts of meeker, cowardly men.

He was older, too. Maybe had twenty years on you, and if somebody had lived that long in the apocalypse, they had to know how to get their hands fucking dirty if they needed to.

“I’ll take him,” you said back to Tess after appraising the man who would be your brothel’s bodyguard, your attention only pulled back to the hunk of muscles when you heard him scoff at your words. “There a problem?”

“I’m not a piece of meat,” he grunted, expression flat as he stared at you, and you arched an eyebrow, unamused by his comment that came right after you and Tess had agreed to the terms of the deal.

“Hate to break it to you, but a bodyguard is nothing but that,” you replied as you gracefully uncrossed your legs, rising to your feet as Tess collected their first payment from you off the table, pushing it into her front pocket as she rose from her own seat as well. “Muscle that can drop a man at a moment’s notice.”

You watched as Joel’s strong jaw ticked, your other eyebrow rising with the first as you stepped around the table, getting closer to the man than you probably should, watching as his tense shoulders bunched up even more around his ears when you approached. 

“And now, you’re my muscle, Mr. Miller,” you said in a perfectly conversational tone, a practiced smile pulling onto your lips as Joel glanced down at them briefly before looking back into your eyes, his gaze narrowing as you added, “Pleasure to be doing business with you.”

Spinning on your heel, you strolled away from the smugglers towards the exit to the alley, but not without saying back over your shoulder before you got too far, “First shift’s an hour after curfew. Don’t be late.”

There was the sound of low grumbling behind you, followed by the smooth low tones of Tess’ voice, and you didn’t know why you felt the urge to laugh at that moment.

You didn’t know why, because you hadn’t laughed in years.

But you brushed that feeling aside, heading back towards your establishment to ready your girls for the change that would be coming in their worlds tonight, hoping that it would give them the peace of mind you all so desperately needed.

Whether you would be able to relax all depended on if Joel Miller could actually do his job.

He could.

One of the very first nights Joel had taken up station in the main hallway in the brothel that led off to private rooms, he had proven his worth, and then some.

You had been down the staircase in an instant when you heard the loud crash, heart racing in your chest, breath quickened from panic as you rounded down to see what had caused the loud sound.

Some thumps and bumps were common in an establishment like yours, but that sounded very much like a body not only hitting the ground, but being thrown down onto it.

What you saw then was an image that etched itself deep into your brain for the rest of your days.

Joel, your brand new, stoic bodyguard who hardly gave so much as a grunt to you or any of the girls he was hired to protect, had a half-naked man pressed to the old floorboards, knee digging right into his back to pin him down, a large hand keeping a tight grip on his neck to stop him from moving.

But what got your attention even more than the struggling client who Joel was snarling at as he roughly kept them down, was the girl who was standing behind him, arms wrapped around herself and subconsciously shifting to stay behind the bodyguard, eyes wide and relieved at the sight of him catching the out of hand customer.

You walked towards the scene that had drawn spectators in the form of clients and workers alike, peeking their heads out into the hallway to watch as you slowly knelt down in front of where the bastard was pinned so roughly to the ground that you weren’t sure he could even breathe.

Good.

You glanced up at Joel then, meeting his hard gaze with one of your own, and you gestured with a jerk of your chin towards the staircase leading down and out of your establishment that he could throw them out.

After rising to your feet, you paused next to Joel, watching from the corner of your eye as he grabbed the man roughly, yanking them to their feet and halting in his task only when you briefly laid your hand on his shoulder.

“Let him know not to come back,” you muttered under your breath, sending a sidelong glance full of unspoken things towards Joel, a tiny smirk curling onto your lips as the whimper of fear from the sick bastard and your bodyguard’s short nod let you know you’d been heard.

You walked straight towards your girl who had nearly been treated in a way you would not tolerate towards any of your women, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her against you, letting her sink into your warmth as you addressed the rest of the brothel that everything was fine, to resume their activities while Joel shoved the guy down the stairs as they started to beg for mercy.

Luckily, there weren’t many similar incidents after that one, letting you know the investment into a well-abled bodyguard for your girls had been more than worth it.

Because more than the concrete evidence of their safety, it was the palpable shift in energy at the brothel that reassured you that you had made the right choice not only in having a bodyguard, but in who you hired.

Joel never really warmed up to anybody, but all the girls had certainly grown fond of him. There were more than a few crushes on the emotionally unavailable older man who stood like a statue in the halls, ranging from innocent love to lustful fantasies.

There were a handful of times one of your girls had offered their services to him, some even trying to get him into a room free of charge, but Joel turned down every one—interestingly enough, it was never without kindness. Each time a proposition was offered, the detached bodyguard would give a slight shake of his head, mumbling a “no thank you, ma’am” in that deep Southern drawl that soon made almost every girl in that building buckle at the knees.

The fondness your girls had for Joel Miller became ingrained in the way the brothel functioned, and you knew that you couldn’t get rid of him even if you wanted to, even if that meant continuing to share a large portion of your personal livelihood with him.

And maybe you were crazy, but you thought that maybe Joel had a bit of warmth in that tiny, shriveled up heart for your girls, too. Sometimes he’d eye a client up and down before giving the girl with them a respectful nod and a polite murmur of their name as a greeting, and you didn’t know why the familiarity of the stoic man warmed your own barbed wire heart, but it did.

Maybe it was because after all the shit they’d gone through to survive long enough to reach this point, they deserved to experience an ounce of genuine kindness from a man, without having to think about what they had to offer him.

Still, Joel irritated you. Any hint of kindness he had for your girls was never shown towards you, but you didn’t let it get to you. You were his employer, and the only times you ever really interacted with each other were the few short seconds it took him to head up the stairs to your office, collect his payment with you and leave.

Besides, you weren’t exactly the most gentle with him either.

You’d taken up a habit of poking fun at your bodyguard, a little teasing here and there about things like his face getting stuck if he never unfurrowed his brow, a comment that only made him scowl further, the sight pulling forward again that urge from deep within your bones to laugh.

But you never laughed, even as you smirked up at him before turning on your heel and going on about your work keeping the place running smoothly.

That work mainly involved management and finances, but when you began to realize you soon wouldn’t be able to keep supporting yourself with keeping Joel on as a bodyguard, you knew you’d have to start doing something a little extra.

Time to go back to your roots.

For all his time working at the brothel, Joel had never seen you take a client.

In fact, he could probably count on one hand the amount of times he had seen you in the hallways, only to check on a few of the girls from time to time.

But most of the time you were holed up in that small office upstairs, the one he entered for a minute or two at a time, long enough for you to gather his payment and give it to him so he could be out of your hair—or, more accurately, to get you out of his.

Because fuck, you were irritating. You knew exactly how to get on his nerves, and Joel suspected you actually enjoyed doing so, for whatever goddamned reason.

Still, the job paid well. He was living with a bit more comfort in the QZ than he ever had before with those cushy extra ration cards.

And besides, he was actually, maybe a little bit attached to the girls who worked these streets. They were kind, just making a living in the best way they could, and needed somebody to protect them.

Maybe there was also a part of Joel that needed somebody to protect.

He had to admit though, for all his aggravation towards your mere existence, Joel did respect you. You were the person who kept this place up and running, the one who looked after every need of each woman, the lady who had cared for them enough to search for a protector to keep them safe.

Joel had honestly assumed that you didn’t do sex work at all, just judging from how you were never in one of those rooms.

But tonight, you were walking up the staircase from the base floor instead of down from your office, drawing Joel’s attention and subsequent confusion when he saw what you were wearing.

Gone were the baggy jeans you usually wore around the brothel, replaced by thigh-highs that enveloped soft skin he had never seen before. There were just hints of lace at the top of the hosiery from where the tight black dress hugging your curves rode up with each step you took.

It had to have been one of the least scantily clad outfits he’d seen down these halls, but something about the sight of you wearing it caused a lump to form in Joel’s throat, an itch curling inside his veins that needed to be scratched when you turned your head back, offering a sly smile different from any you had sent him towards somebody behind you.

When you ascended to the top of the stairs, Joel saw the man following you, his back stiffening for more than one reason.

The first reason was that he knew this man. Not personally, but he had seen them around—on wanted posters, specifically. They were a higher up in the Fireflies, one who had their eyes on every covert deal around the city, a puppet master pulling the strings.

But it was clear now that you were pulling his, a coy batting of your cunning eyes tugging him after you down the hallway, your body turned slightly towards him in a way that accentuated every curve of your body in its side profile, illuminated in the lowlights of the hall.

When you passed by Joel, eyes meeting his as they shifted into something darker—not lustful, but with clear intent—he knew the other reason he had suddenly snapped to attention.

This man was your customer.

That look you had given Joel, it was an unspoken order to keep you safe in case anything went south with this considerably more…“exclusive” customer, for lack of a better term.

You didn’t spare another glance back as you moved to a door at the end of the hall, one Joel didn’t think he had ever seen another girl enter, slipping into the room as the man followed behind you, and the door quietly clicked shut.

Joel stared at the spot where you had just been in the hallway, feet frozen to the ground until he slowly stepped forward, moving down to lean against the wall next to the room you had entered, following your silent order to stay close and keep an eye out for trouble.

All his time working in a building full of the sounds and smell of sex at every moment, Joel had been unbothered. The moans, the grunts, the cries of “oh fuck” and “I’m coming!” that would echo through the halls, the overpowering scents of sweat and cum when a door next to him would open and a satisfied client would walk out—he couldn’t give less of a fuck. It neither bothered him, nor turned him on to any degree.

But at the very first soft, breathy moan of yours that drifted through the thin wall his back was pressed to, Joel’s breath was catching in his throat, entire body stiffening at the alluring sound.

A few seconds later, there was another moan, longer than the first, and Joel’s head tilted back, resting against the wall as his jaw clenched to the point where it was almost painful.

He didn’t care, he told himself.

Joel had never cared before, he didn’t care now.

But it had never been you before.

You, the stalwart image of the establishment, all business and no pleasure, putting every other person’s needs before your own.

So at the thought of you giving into pleasure now, satisfying your own needs as the sounds of slow, rhythmic squeaking of a bedframe carried towards him through the door, your whimpering echoing the steady echo of skin slapping against skin—

“Fuck,” Joel whispered under his breath, eyes fluttering shut at a particularly loud moan of yours that reached his ears that had tuned in through the walls, and he snapped his eyes back open, straightening back up and realizing with a quiet groan from the movement how painfully hard he had grown in his jeans at the sounds of you being fucked.

He reminded himself then that this was your job. There was no guarantee you derived any real pleasure from it—to think that you did was a delusional male fantasy, and made him no better than the rest.

But his dick wasn’t listening to logic, only growing harder in his pants with the more lewd sounds that you made, and Joel sucked in a deep breath, rubbing a large palm over his face and shaking his head to himself.

You were no different from the others.

Just another girl to protect.

Joel didn’t want you.

“Oh, god, yes!” you were gasping in between keening moans now, and Joel bit down hard on his lower lip, feeling the chapped skin break and bleed a bit as his hand twitched at his side, the urge to do something about the erection straining against his pants so incredibly strong.

He could do it. None of the other girls were close to finishing with their clients. Joel could pull his cock from his pants right now and fuck into his own hand as he listened to you having sex, get himself off from the sounds you were making, imagining he was thrusting into you instead of his palm as you—

“Yes,” you whimpered, the sounds of skin slapping against skin rapid now, the bedframe inside your room slamming against the wall as you repeated yourself louder and louder, higher and higher, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Then you were crying out at the same time your client did, and Joel grunted, hips bucking up into his palm at the same moment he realized his hand had drifted there, subconsciously seeking relief from the ache of burning desire before he snapped his hand away.

“Fuck,” he huffed, shaking his head sharply and cursing himself at how he had nearly jacked himself off at the sound of you having sex without even realizing what he was doing. “Get it the fuck together.”

But his erection hardly eased up even as the minutes passed, and Joel had to fold his hands together, trying to casually hold them in front of the obvious bulge constrained by his jeans when your door opened.

The client walked out first, and Joel stared straight ahead at the wall opposite him, jaw clenching painfully once more as the man walked down the hallway, glancing back to send you a wave as you leaned against the doorframe, bending forward out of it to wiggle your fingers back towards him in goodbye.

Joel’s eyes snapped from how relaxed the gait of the man now was before looking over at you, sucking in a sharp breath at the tattered silk robe you were wearing, seeing the dip of your collarbone down to the soft curves of your cleavage, nearly catching a glimpse of the tempting pillows of your tits from the way you were leaning forward before he forced his gaze away.

You were watching him now—he could feel the familiar intensity of your gaze on him, and Joel resisted the urge to swallow thickly, struggling against the lump in his throat as you pushed yourself off the doorframe.

He expected you to head back up towards your office, preparing himself to keep his gaze off you when you walked past him in that temptation of thin fabric, when you surprised him by speaking.

“Want a smoke?”

Joel froze, his head tilting towards the sound of your voice subconsciously before your words even dawned on him.

When they did, he glanced towards you from the corner of his eye, seeing you were watching him with a thumb pointing back over your shoulder towards the room behind you.

The room you had just fucked a client in.

Oh fuck.

Joel cleared his throat, brows furrowed deeply as he looked back at you, and he half-expected you to make a comment about it like usual, but you were simply watching him with an impassive look, not a hint of emotion or motive he could try to decipher.

Before he knew what he was doing, Joel nodded, feet automatically moving after yours when you walked into the room.

“You can close it,” you said over your shoulder as you walked towards a nightstand next to the bed where—

Joel spun around, trying to control how rapidly he was breathing as he grabbed the door handle, pulling it shut behind him before slowly turning back to face the room again.

He had never actually been in one of them before, but he still should have expected the smell to be so much stronger in one—especially right after it had been occupied.

Still, the scent of sex pulled his attention right back to the bed you stood next to as you perched a cigarette between your lips—one he thinks Tess got you, he realized somewhere in the back of his mind—and Joel’s eyes lingered on dark spots on the mattress, forgetting how to breathe for a moment before your voice brought him back.

“Mr. Miller?”

His head snapped forward, eyes meeting yours to see you looking at him in a question he didn’t know that you were asking.

“Huh?” he mumbled so eloquently, wincing internally as your lips twitched into a small smirk around the cigarette in your mouth before you pulled it out, blowing it into the heady air of the room, nicotine joining the smells of sex and making the space tighter, hotter, before you paced towards a window on one wall.

“I asked if you wanted one,” you said slowly, and Joel just then noticed how scratchy your voice was—from the cigarette, the moans you were making not that long before, or maybe both.

“Uh—no,” Joel shook his head, watching with bated breath as your smirk towards him grew. “No thank you.”

His heart skipped a beat in his chest as you beckoned with the cigarette held delicately between your fingers for him to join you at the window. 

Joel did, almost automatically, cursing himself internally at his blunt eagerness to be beside you while you lifted the window to let some fresh air in, and he turned, resting his back against the open window pane, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you instead of observing the room any longer.

Not all that fresh, considering the perpetual staleness of the QZ air, but it did cut down on how overwhelming the aroma of sex currently was in that room.

If somebody was going to break the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you, Joel had expected it to be you, so he was surprised when the quiet words fell from his lips, “Didn’t know you took clients.”

You huffed out a laugh then, the stream of cigarette smoke leaving your plump lips in puffs with the action.

“The Mistress has to earn her keep somehow,” you muttered, pulling in another drag of nicotine to blow back out the open window, and Joel’s gaze snapped back towards you.

“The Mistress?” he repeated, eyes flickering over your face as he recognized that name in an instant.

Being a man in the Boston QZ, it was impossible not to hear about The Mistress. An elusive sex worker who was very selective about her clientele, but even still, the stories about her stretched far, the name representing the countless fantasies of every horny man who dreamed of a chance to get their cock wet with her.

His recognition must have been noticeable in the tone of his voice, because you lazily rolled your head back to look up at him, smirk growing fully across your lips, swollen from whatever you had been up to, and Joel nearly swore under his breath as he felt his cock stirring in his jeans again.

“You act like you’ve heard of me,” you murmured, tongue darting out to wet your lips before you placed the cigarette between them again, and Joel’s brain short-circuited for a moment before he could find the words to reply to you.

“I just—” Joel cut off, brows furrowed as he shook his head, as if trying to jumpstart his mind, get it to string coherent thoughts together again but Jesus fuck why were you looking at him like that, with dark hooded eyes he’d never seen from you before. “I mean, I’ve heard about her, but I didn’t think—”

“Why not?” you interrupted him before he could finish. The cigarette was back between your fingers, gesturing with it up towards the scar that stretched down one side of your face. “Because of this?”

Joel frowned then because, to his own surprise, he was offended that you would think he’d care about such a thing. That he’d judge your attractiveness off something as inconsequential as a scar, especially in such a time where such marks on your skin were proof of hard-earned survival.

Attractiveness. 

No, no, oh, fuck.

“Just didn’t know it was you,” Joel muttered gruffly, shrugging in a way that he knew must have looked incredibly stupid as he turned his face away from you, only to see the mess of shabby sheets on the bed, and those same dark stains on the fabric.

“Oh, so you have heard of me,” you were nearly goddamn purring the words now, in the same moment his mind was recalling those sweet, sweet moans you were making, the ones that had left your lips and resulted in the cum stains he was now staring at. “What have you heard?”

“They say you have the ti—” Joel cuts himself off again, feeling blood rushing towards his cheeks and somewhere lower, somewhere he should not be feeling any heat as he realized what he was about to say without thinking.

That you have the tightest, hottest cunt you could get in the whole QZ.

“They say I…?” you trailed off as you quietly repeated his words, and Joel’s attention flashed back to you to see you drifting closer to him, one arm crossed over your chest to prop up your elbow as you smoked your cigarette.

The way your arm pressed to yourself pushed your cleavage together to make an alluring dip, lifting your tits so they were almost spilling out of the open collar of the silk robe. Although the fabric was faded and tattered from the years it had survived, it may as well have been the richest texture in the world with the way it caressed your soft skin, taunting Joel as he struggled to look away.

When you shifted just an inch closer, one of the sleeves of the robe tumbled down your shoulder, and Joel sucked in an audible breath as more of your body was revealed, tempting him with how bare you were under that flimsy fabric.

He tried to look back up towards your eyes then, he really did, but the sleeve slipping down to hook around your elbow nearly revealed half of your chest to him. The only thing keeping him from seeing one of your tits completely was the way your forearm was pressed against your nipple.

Was it a peak right now? Were you as aroused as he was? Did you need him like he needed you?

Joel finally pulled his eyes up to yours, and when he saw the smug, knowing look in the heat of them, his desire flared into a fever pitch.

“They say you make sex an art,” his voice rumbled out from deep within his chest, and Joel hardly recognized it with the way his every word was coated in a thick need. “That your body feels like heaven, and you taste even better.”

You laughed at that, head tilting back with the action, and Joel was as distracted at the gentle, husky cadence that left your soft lips—how soft exactly, he wondered—as he was focused on the curve of your exposed neck as it led his eyes down your collarbone to the valley of your breasts.

There was a thin layer of sweat there, he just realized, and he wanted to dip his tongue between the soft pillows of flesh, tasting and tracing you, when your words pulled him out of his fantasizing that was quickly spiraling out of control the longer he was in this sex-tainted room with you.

“Those men don’t know a single fucking thing about how I taste,” you muttered, not bitterly, but simply matter-of-fact as you gazed out the window towards the dark lit streets of the QZ, taking another long drag of the cigarette.

Joel’s brow lifted, glancing over your side profile, noticing the way the deep red lipstick you had been wearing was almost completely faded, smeared a little at the corner of your mouth and down your chin, and coupled with the confession you had just made, he struggled with a sudden surge of an emotion he couldn’t name—or didn't want to, as it would surely become dangerous if he dared to entertain it.

“Seriously?” Joel found himself saying, and you turned back to him, your own eyebrows arching at the odd tone of his voice—almost appalled, but not towards you. “None of them?”

Your lips pulled back then, showing teeth in a grin that was nearly predatory, and Joel’s pulse raced as you answered with your own question, “You really think any man still alive wants to pay to go down on a woman?”

“I would,” Joel said in a heartbeat, and you blinked, surprise flashing through your eyes, and Joel hated the way his stomach flipped at the knowledge of catching you off-guard, as you were usually the one doing so to him.

“You’d pay for sex,” you repeated slowly, and although it was a question, you said it in a flat tone, disbelieving as you glanced up and down his body. “You. Mr. ‘I hate everybody and wish they were all fucking dead’ Miller?”

What surprised him the most out of everything tonight was the way you just made him laugh.

The sound was pulled from him so easily, tugged from his lungs towards you, and he sucked in a breath, as if trying to pull the sound back in as a dark look twinkled in your eyes from where they had fixed on the front of his jeans.

“Maybe you would pay for it, Mr. Miller,” you murmured, and Joel stiffened, his mind filling with a variety of curses in every language he still knew as you surely noticed his erection that still hadn’t fucking gone away.

Your eyes flashed back up to his, long eyelashes fluttering as you leaned forward, and Joel struggled to breathe as the forearm still covering the nipple of your almost completely revealed breast grazed against his chest.

“How would you prefer to take me, sir?” you asked breathily, and Joel’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, brushing with your own nearly exposed chest with every fast breath he took as he tried to reign himself in, even as you started fucking seducing him. “Are you a fan of foreplay? Would you take your time and go slow with me?”

Your head tilts oh so slightly, hair tumbling down in a way that begged Joel to wrap it around his fist, as you continued to mercilessly tease, “No, I don’t think you’re one for taking it slow. Are you, Mr. Miller?”

Fuck, if you kept calling him that, he was going to lose his goddamn mind and take you right against that window sill if you would let him. He’d pay you all the fucking food rations in the world for a taste, just a taste of how sweet you’d drip for him when you came.

Because if Joel was fucking you, you were going to come.

“You like it hard and fast,” you whispered, your arm finally dropping from your chest, and Joel swallowed down a strangled sound as he finally saw half of your chest completely, your nipple hardened in the air before you pressed it against him and fuck, oh Jesus fuck, “I bet you’re rough too. Big man like you, you like to be in control. Probably gets off on taming brats, hm?”

Goddammit if you didn’t shut up he was about to show you just how well he could tame you, shutting up that pretty mouth by making you come again, again, and again, until all you knew to do was cry out for him every time he wracked your body with pleasure.

“But you’re not a missionary man,” you shook your head as it tilted the other way, bringing your face to hover inches away from his neck, and Joel shivered, actually fucking shivered when he felt your breath caress his skin as you teased, “You like a cowgirl, don’t you, Joel?”

That was the first time his name fell from your lips.

And at the sound of it, Joel lost any ounce of self-control.

His hands were on you in an instant, enveloping your waist in his large palms as he pulled you flush against him at the same moment he turned to push you against the wall.

You gasped, the dwindling cigarette falling from your fingers, and Joel lifted a foot to stomp it out, using his knee to nudge your legs apart with the motion. When his hips nudged against yours, erection pressing against the spot between your open thighs, he moaned at the feeling of your heat against the impossibly tight fabric.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized the robe you wore was completely open now, and your exposed cunt was pressed right up against his clothed erection, but his entire mind was focused on the way you also moaned at the same time he did.

“You keep running your mouth like that, I’ll show you how fucking good I can tame a brat,” he growled into your ear, one of his hands easily lifting your hip, dragging your folds across the bulge in his jeans, and he sighed as he felt wetness seep against the fabric. “Fuck, you this wet for me already, baby? Just from talking about how I’d fuck you?”

“I-I–”

Suddenly, no words were falling from your lips other than incoherent stuttering, and Joel smirked as he ducked his face against your neck, licking a path along the curve of it, groaning in need and irritation at the salt of sweat from your previous sex that still clung to it.

“Did you come for him?” Joel growled the question against your jaw, now directing your hips to grind against him in a way that put pressure to your clit, his eyes fluttering shut at the soft moan that left your lips—it sounded different than the ones he heard you make before, quieter, a bit huskier as opposed to so high-pitched—before he nipped at the skin just below your chin. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and Joel loosened his grip on your waist just a bit, wanting to see if you still chased that friction he had been providing against your clit.

When you did, grinding yourself against his clothed erection, Joel smirked against your jaw before asking his next question, “When’s the last time a man made you come, sweetheart?”

A shuddering breath fell from your lips to fan across his face, and Joel pulled back, looking down at how blown-wide your pupils were, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face as you muttered, “I—long. Too long.”

Joel wanted to smile at how you were already struggling to form full sentences before he had even started with you, but the anger he felt at you going so long without feeling an ounce of pleasure from being with a man made his jaw tick as he frowned deeply instead.

“Do you wanna come tonight, darlin’?” Joel murmured, his calloused thumb finding your bottom lip to gently pull it out, caressing the wet inner part of your lip while he searched your gaze. “I need you to answer me, sweetheart. I’m not doing anything unless you want me to.”

“Yes, Joel,” your voice nearly broke with the husky whisper, head bobbing in an eager nod, but Joel still waited to hear you say it clearly before he began. “I want you. Want you to make me come, please.”

A shuddering breath left Joel then, and he returned your nod, brushing his thumb across your lip again before pulling it back and leaning down to replace the digit with his own lips.

You were both moaning from the first moment your lips touched, kissing in a way that was much like how you always acted around each other—a battle for dominance, adding gasoline to the fire, but with an underlying respect that neither of you could shake even if you wanted to try.

“Fuck,” Joel mumbled when you allowed him access to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch of it with a quiet moan that you echoed with your own. “Taste so good already, sweetheart.”

Every time he tried to pull away, you brought him back in with your lips chasing his, trapping him in another hot kiss, passion he didn’t think he could ever feel again building between you until he needed to taste more.

Joel finally tore himself away from your mouth fully, hands finding the opening of your robe to make sure it was pushed open completely, giving him access to every inch of your soft skin as he pressed kisses down your neck towards the perfect, perky tits that had been taunting him since you leaned out into the hallway.

His large palms cupped them, fingers stroking the soft flesh as he pressed them around his face, groaning into your skin at the feeling of being surrounded by them before turning his face to lap a path up the curve of one with his tongue until he reached that goddamn nipple that had been pure torture to nearly catch a glimpse of during your entire conversation.

Joel flicked his tongue over it, hips nearly bucking up as you gasped at the sensation, back arching to press further against his tongue when he flattened it against the stiffened peak. When he sucked it into his hot mouth, your fingers found his hair, tangling in the strands as you pushed his face further against you, and he moaned through a mouth full of your breast, teeth grazing against the sensitive peak before he pulled back to quickly do the same to the other.

Despite your teasing, he would take his time with you eventually. But tonight he was desperate, a drowning man gasping for air—but no, even that wasn’t accurate.

You were not the air Joel needed, but rather the unfathomable depths that he was drowning in.

He dropped to his knees between your spread legs, grunting quietly at the pain that ricocheted through his old bones at the action, but he couldn’t care less as he found himself facing your hot, dripping cunt.

Joel leaned forward, letting his breath fan across your sensitive folds as he lifted two fingers to run across your wet entrance, dragging the digits up to where you clit was already swollen with the need to be touched, to be pleased by him, and he smiled to himself at the sigh you exhaled above him from the sensation of his touch.

His fingers slid back to your entrance, dipping the rough pads of his fingertips into you just enough to collect more of your desire, spreading it along the lengths of his thick fingers as he swiped them up to your clit and began to rub in slow, tight circles.

You gasped quietly, hips rolling into his gentle ministrations, and Joel smiled against your skin when he ducked his face forward to press soft kisses along your inner thigh and up.

“Gonna take care of you, darlin’, don’t you worry,” Joel murmured against the mound of trimmed hair above where his fingers were slowly working at you, his lips moving down to replace them as he added breathlessly, “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Your hips bucked against his face when his tongue found your clit, a louder, breathless moan tearing from your throat at the heady sensation of his hot, wet mouth sucking around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Joel,” you gasped, nails scraping against his scalp as you grabbed his hair tighter, and he groaned around your clit at the feeling, pulling a delicious whine that sounded so much more real, more feral, more needy than the perfect, practiced ones you had made through the wall. “I—oh, fuck, that’s so good…”

He hummed around your clit before flattening his tongue against it, alternating motions until he found the rhythm that made you grind yourself against his face, and his palms found your hips to pull you up against him further, encouraging you to ride his tongue until you found your high.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured in between the moments when he’d suckle your clit, teeth gently grazing it as he resisted the urge to palm himself at the steady stream of moans and muffled curses that were echoing above him. “You can do it, come on. Soak my face, wanna taste your sweet cum.”

When you did just as he told you, Joel thought he really did see the gates of heaven, a sight he was convinced would never grace him after the lifetime of hell he had lived and caused.

He lapped up every gush of wetness that dripped from your folds in your release, dipping his tongue inside your entrance to drink you up, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit, rubbing gently to prolong the waves of your pleasure.

Once the gyrations of your hips against his lapping tongue slowed, Joel pulled back from your cunt, your release glistening on his mouth and down his chin as he gazed up at your slack-jawed expression.

Your head tilted down, gaze meeting his as a lazy smile curled onto your lips, and Joel tried to ignore the way his heart lurched in his chest at the sight combined with the feeling of your grip loosening on his hair, fingers combing gently through the strands.

“Good?” Joel mumbled, turning his face to press a soft kiss on your inner thigh, and your head dipped down in a nod, humming in satisfaction as Joel smirked against your skin. “Good.”

His mouth opened, teeth gently nipping at your soft flesh, pulling an endearing squeak of surprise from you as he rasped, “Not done with you yet, though, sweetheart.”

When his tongue found its way back to your clit, his fingers went back to your entrance. This time, when he dipped one fingertip in, he didn’t stop, sinking into your tight, wet heat until the first knuckle, smiling against your swollen bundle of nerves as you rolled your hips into him at the sensation of his digit slowly filling you.

He gave a few slow pumps of his finger when he had sunk it in completely before pulling it out, chuckling around where he had sucked your clit back into his mouth at your whine at the loss of his finger before he added it back in with another.

“Fuck, can you feel you squeezing my fingers, darlin’,” Joel grunted against your cunt, lapping desperate licks against your clit, eating you out with increased fervor as his fingers pumped you faster at every mewling moan that left your lips, encouraged by the rolling of your hips to curl his fingers until he found the spot that nearly made your knees buckle.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, giving you support to stand while keeping you pressed to his face, not allowing you a moment of peace as his tongue worked mercilessly at you until you were coming around his fingers this time.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel was whimpering against your cunt this time as he continued to fingerfuck you through your high, sucking at your clit and drawing out every aftershock, his arm around your waist the only thing keeping you up now as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Joel,” you whispered hoarsely, fingers tugging at his hair again, and he pulled back to look up at you, his fingers stilling inside your cunt, but not sliding out of you just yet.

“What is it, darlin’?” he rasped, breath trembling as you stroked his lips with your thumb, collecting your own release combined with his saliva on it before raising it to your mouth to suck on, pulling a moan from Joel’s throat at the sight.

“Want you to touch yourself, sir,” you murmured, and Joel’s eyes widened, his fingers finally slipping out of your heat, reaching down to fumble with the button of his jeans at your permission he didn’t even know he was desperate for. “Make yourself cum just from the taste of me.”

“Jesus—” Joel couldn’t even finish whatever he was going to groan out as his hand wrapped around his cock once he pulled it out of its fabric constraints, eyes rolling back into his head at the relief of finally, finally doing something about the erection that had plagued him since he guarded you outside the room while you worked.

“Mouth on my pussy, Joel,” you ordered, and he was diving back into your folds without a second thought, sloppily thrusting his tongue inside your wet heat as his hand pumped his cock, your release still coating his fingers spreading across his length as he felt himself already rapidly approaching climax. “That’s it. You like the taste? You wanna come because I taste so good?”

Joel was nodding against your pussy, groaning into your folds as he lost any rhythm towards making you feel good now, but you didn’t seem to care, your hand in his hair still keeping him pressed to your cunt as you encouraged him this time around, “Do it then, Joel. I want to watch you cum for me.”

If you said anything else at that point, Joel couldn’t hear it through the blood rushing through his head as he came harder than he had in years.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt an orgasm so intense, his vision darkening at the edges as he sucked mindlessly at your wet folds, hips bucking up into his fist as his cum shot out to paint the wall behind you before leaking out steadily over his hand.

You loosened your grip on his hair, allowing him to pull back with a gasp, sucking in air he needed to not black out as Joel’s blurry vision focused back in on your face above him.

There was a small smile on your face, satisfied in more ways than one, and Joel couldn’t help but match it with his own half-smirk as he focused on catching his breath before slowly pushing himself back up to his feet.

“Mm,” Joel moaned quietly as his lips met yours in a lazy kiss, one he wasn’t sure who initiated as he mumbled against your mouth, “Heavenly.”

You laughed then, and he felt himself brighten at the sound, though he tried to ignore it as you gently pushed him away from you.

“Come on,” you sighed, straying away from the wall towards the door on shaky legs while you tied your robe back up, making yourself decent enough as he tucked his dick away and zipped up his jeans. “I’ll get you your payment for today.”

There was a brief moment where you made sure nobody was lingering in the hallway before beckoning him out, and you both made your way towards the staircase towards your office while Joel tried to ignore the foreign thrill at the chance of being caught with you after what you had done together.

When you passed his payment to him, he counted out a generous portion before holding it right back out, earning a scoff from you at the offer.

“You’re not paying me for making me come, Mr. Miller,” you said with a sly smirk, and Joel tried to ignore how oddly disappointing it felt for you to resort to calling him that after tonight. “That wasn’t work.”

Joel slowly arched his brow, but nodded at your insistence, tucking his payment in his back pocket before rumbling out a quiet question of, “One-time thing?”

It wasn’t an offer, nor was he insisting that you did or didn’t do it again.

In fact, he was secretly hoping it would happen again, and Joel felt the treacherous anticipation for even more of you when your exhilarated gaze met his.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers

↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Joel Miller x afab!fem reader

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ellie finds an old chessboard somewhere in Jackson and asks you to teach her how to play. Joel joins and isn’t too happy about loosing three times against you.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel is early fifties), sex, p in v, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, use of whore (like once), pet names (darling, sweetheart, angel), multiple orgasms, they do it on the table, cum eating, bit of angst, insecure Joel, canon divergency, probably ooc Joel and Ellie, mentions of death and loss, alcohol consumption, confessing feelings. Let me know if I missed something!

a/n: this one’s a bit rushed but I wanted to post it before my birthday so I apologize if it isn’t great. Anyways, I’m writing a second Javi fic, so if you liked 𝐌Í𝐀 I’m certain you’re going to love the next one:)

no use of y/n

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You're cheating." Ellie rambles, standing up to get a better view of the board and analyze it from different angles. You can't help but giggle at her childish attitude, cause it truly brought a certain joy to the dynamic. "Hey! It's not funny."

"How could I cheat? You were watching my game the whole time." You defend you case, raising your hands in a sign of peace but gaining a glare from the girl.

"I don't know, you're the one who's teaching me." In that moment, you hear the crack of the front door opening, but none of you bother to stand and greet the main resident of the house, too busy in your own matters.

"Look, I'm playing fair. I am simply older and more experienced than you." Ellie grimaces and sits back on the chair, both arms crossed over her chest. "But try not to feel too bad. I've always been really good at chess."

Joel enters the dining room and walks right past you, going straight to the kitchen. You guess he's either going for a beer or to pour some whiskey into his favorite glass. Always the same routine every weekend: he would come home late with absolutely no explanations as to where he was, drink something strong and spend some time with both of you before heading to bed.

"You must be a really good strategist, then." She replies, amused. "I’ve heard this game is all about that. Strategies."

When you're about to respond, the man's heavy footsteps get closer as he comes to the room once again and leans back on the wall opposite to you, a glass of whiskey on his hand. His grayish hair is messy and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the warm light hanging over your heads when he looks at you intently. Often, he would appear exhausted after being off all day, but tonight it was different. Something about him was, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Ellie must've sensed a shift in the air, since she changed her approach in a second. "Joel, you're pretty ancient. I bet you know how to play."

You hold back your laughter at her mocking comment, reaching the board to rearrange the pieces. He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, straightening his posture nonchalantly.

"I'm more of a poker man," he retorts with a distant air, diverting his gaze to Ellie.

"Poker?" You frown as he comes your way, but doesn't take a sit just yet. "I didn't take you for a gambler, Miller."

He sets the glass down on the table, leaning over the chair next to you with a smirk. "M'not. There’s many ways of playing other than betting your money, f’you know what I mean.”

Your eyes widen at his response, taken aback. So he meant like… The one were you end up naked. “Now, I would’ve expected that from Tommy, but you? That’s a surprise.”

He shrugs, faded smile still on his lips.

You remembered what Ellie once told you, ‘he does that whenever you’re around,’ she had said in a meditative tone, ‘smile, I mean. It’s kind of creepy cause… y’know, he never does.’ Perhaps that’s why she acted differently every time you three were together.

“Yeah, whatever.” The girl grumbles. “Can you play chess or not? I need someone to take revenge for me.”

Joel takes a seat beside you, slowly, glancing over the board before sipping from his drink again. He looks back at Ellie, whose eyes were sparkling with excitement. The man sighs in defeat, well aware that he just couldn’t say no to her. A dad reflex, maybe, but it worked out in her favor and she’d take advantage of it as much as she could.

“Fine. I call black.” You nod in agreement and the younger one leans on her elbows for a better view. “Either way, I know you like making the first moves. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Your first reaction was almost choking on your own saliva. Honestly, how dare he say something like that in front of Ellie? Did he suddenly forget that she was fourteen and terribly clever? Had he lost his mind? Also, he never called you by anything other than your name whenever she was around, so this whole situation felt like a personal attack.

“You okay over there?” Ellie asked, slightly concerned at your incessant coughing.

“Yeah…” you give him a dirty look and press a hand to your chest, making the first move with a white pawn. “Could you bring me some water? I think my soul might’ve left my body.”

“Sure.” She quickly answers, standing up. Joel doesn’t say anything else, his mind focused only on the game now.

It had all happened last weekend.

Thinking in retrospective, your relationship with him had always been ambiguous. You couldn’t quite recall when he actually started talking to you and not just ‘bear with your presence’, nor when his invitations to come over to his place started coming from him and not Ellie.

At first, it was simply you and her. Bonding was easy, despite her sharp character. She looked up to you, for whatever reason that might be, and that smoothed things. Joel was a completely different story. He acted like you didn’t exist, as if you were merely another bug roaming his house. Though when he saw how good your friendship with Ellie was, his brusque behavior started to fade, or at least settle down somehow.

Sooner than later you started coming over to make dinner, or teach the teenager how to bake some of the recipes your grandmother had thought you -more like you’d do everything while she chatted to keep you entertained-. But truth be told, it became more of an excuse to see him.

Honestly, you were doomed since the very beginning. There was undeniably no way you would’ve been able to escape Joel Miller’s silent charm. His presence became a constant need to you, and you’d often find yourself relating certain things to him. Smoke, denim, pills, booze, watches and boots, to mention a few. To you, he was all gray and blue, merging in the best way possible.

You didn’t expect him to thank you for taking care of them. Them. Not just Ellie, him too. Or that he’d suddenly show up to places you would frequent, which made you wonder, could he possibly feel the same way? Sure, it could’ve been a simple coincidence… If it weren’t for the stolen looks you’d often share. Though his face rarely reflected any interest in you, his piercing gaze would frequently burn your skin every time you were hanging out with other men.

Two weeks ago, Maria had been held back from patrol due to her pregnancy, and you were called to fill up her place. The thing is, you were supposed to leave with Tommy, but somehow ended up with his older brother, riding at dawn in utter silence and searching for a prey to hunt. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet it allowed you to watch him more attentively: his broad shoulders and sturdy back, the dark graying hair that, in some way, made him more attractive. And then your mind, went to some… Darker places.

How would his big, manly hands feel cupping your breasts? Flashy images of his rough, calloused fingers pinching your nipples meandered your mind. His face buried between your legs, his mustache tickling your…

“You ‘kay there, sweetheart?” He had asked, abruptly taking you out of your freakish daydreaming. “You seem distracted.”

Well, that was a way of putting it. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…” you babbled, “I hate the rifle.” Joel glanced back at you with a stiff, confused expression. “If I shoot this thing, I’ll feel the kickback on my shoulders and back for at least two weeks from now.”

The horses were stagnant, waiting by the trees while you took a stroll nearby, keeping an eye for any sort of animal that would serve for dinner.

“Show me.” He said, internally amused by your inquiring expression. “Show me how you hold it.”

“Oh…” You compeled, in spite of the anxiety his stern eyes brought upon you.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” He grunted, coming to approach you, still holding the position.

You scowled, raising a brow to him but not daring to move a muscle. “Maybe you’re just making me nervous, did you think about that?”

Joel plants himself behind you, staying so close that you could feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of clothing. Your heartbeat races when his hand rearranges the rifle on your elbow, unintentionally wrapping his arms around you.

“You need to hold it like this.” His tone was low but still firm. “Keep it up.” You feel his chest pressed to your back and his face near yours, making it hard to breathe.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, cause if your head turns even a little, you fear the distance between you might as well disappear. His hand holds your wrist steady, the other one going from your elbow to your waist in a tight grip that makes you gasp.

“Do I make you nervous?” He questioned, without letting you go. Paying no mind to the way your nerves buzzed and ears rang at the proximity, you slowly nodded. “Are you afraid of me?”

His doubt made your heart jump and knit your brows together. “No. I trust you.” Joel’s breath hit your temple and it took all the self control in your body not to get rid of the distance.

“You shouldn’t.” Both his hands are on your waist in a firm grasp. He definitely noticed your flushed cheeks, the ragged breathing and constant desire to look at him. Like a damn teenager in love. You gulp, trying to regain composure.

“And why is that?” He didn’t answer, and every second that passed and his hands were still on you only made it worse. You needed to get closer or your lungs would crush under the weight of expectation. “Joel?”

You finally gave in, raising your head to face him. He was already looking down at you, eyes smitten and lost. A reflection of him you’d never seen before. Your gaze goes to his lips and inevitably lick your own before going up to his deep, brown eyes again.

Fucking hell, the man was mesmerizing.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’re leaning forward, completely forgetting about the rifle and the whole world around you. Your noses touch and your lips merely brush against each other’s. Instinctively, you close your eyes in hopes that he’d go for it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hand comes to arrange your posture again, murmuring a lazy ‘easy’ in your ear, that shared moment vanishing in thin air.

“When shooting a weapon this big, you gotta bring your strength from your torso and legs.” And then he acted like nothing happened; nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you. “That way it won’t hurt after.”

Well shit. Now you had screwed up.

This man was like a father to Ellie and you were not only infatuated with him, but also add to the list that you had purposely tried to kiss him. You were embarrassed, to say the least. Specially since it appeared that whatever feelings you had were one-sided.

Or so you thought, up until last Saturday.

You hadn’t talked with him about it. In fact, you hadn’t even been alone with him ever since. It was probably for the best, though, that way you wouldn’t have to humiliate yourself in front of him any further. Every time you happened to cross paths, he seemed aloof, more indifferent than usual.

It was pretty late, probably past midnight and Joel hadn’t yet arrived. You had spent all day with Ellie and now you were just waiting for his return, but she was growing tired and you didn’t think it was fair for her to stay up for too long.

“Go to bed, okay? I’ll wait for him.” You told her with a smile.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’m not even…” whatever she was going to say got cut off by her yawn.

“Right. You were saying?” She rolled her eyes and snorted at your victorious air.

“Fine. But promise you won’t stay for too long. I’d hate to know you didn’t get any sleep because of me.” You agreed and said everything would be fine, that she had nothing to worry about.

So you waited there on his living room, reading old crappy magazines about celebrity gossip while facing the crackling fire that kept the house warm. It was easy to lose track of time this way, therefore, when the door opened at last, you had no idea how long you had been waiting around. You rushed to his encounter, but you were totally unprepared for what happened next.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. Are you- shit…” the man standing ahead was someone you knew, but could barely recognize. The side of his face was bleeding, a cut going from his temple to the cheekbone and there were bruises scattered around it. He was sweating and you could swear he was about to faint.

You closed the door behind him, tugging his shoulder to drag him inside, all the way to the kitchen. Despite his rumbles of protest, Joel allowed you to do it, putting up no resistance. His mind was screaming at him to tell you that you should leave and that he didn’t need any help. But he was too fucking exhausted and you were being so kind and warm… He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, ignoring the part of his brain that kept telling him ‘you’ll regret this later’. For once in a very long time, he was being irrational, letting another part of him take control; or rather lose it completely.

You sat him down on a chair and took a clean towel, wetting it with cold water to treat the wound. In addition, you also took the bottle of whiskey that he kept locked away where Ellie wouldn’t find it, pouring him a glass. He gulps it down straight away.

Joel observes your every move closely. Your steady hands going to his chin and raising his face to the light, the way your features drown in concern and your dazzling eyes examine the injury. His skin burnt there where you touched him and it was becoming hard for him to keep his mind focused, growing dizzier with pain and intoxicated by your perfume. He really shouldn’t be feeling this way, and it burdens him to know it. Your lovely, young self shouldn’t be an object of his desire; and the fact that you were what he wanted the most was killing him achingly slow.

Because, even if you did want him back, what good could it possibly come from the whole thing? He’d just hold you back. There were plenty of other men in Jackson that could offer you things he certainly couldn’t. Yeah, that was it. He was way too corrupted to be deserving of someone like you.

“Does it hurt too much?” You muttered while getting rid of the blood, careful not to be too harsh.

“S’okay, angel.” The name-calling wasn’t something you usually liked. It sounded condescending coming from other men, but when he did it, your stomach fluttered. “Were you waiting for me?”

You nod vaguely, “I was worried.” His eyes bore into yours and your heart skips a beat. “I mean we. We were worried.”

“Right…” He noticed how your fingers brushed the hair out of his face tenderly, his self-control threatening to crumble under your touch with every second that went by. His hand takes your wrist, preventing you from keeping up your work. For a moment, he says nothing, simply staring at you fixedly. “I think you should leave.” He blurts out, letting go of you.

Oh, there they were. Those mixed signs that you always seemed to misinterpret.

You groan in exasperation, leaving the bloody towel beside the bottle of alcohol. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Joel was being petty and his deliver managed to hurt a little. But you would not give him that much power, at least not without putting up a fight.

“It’s not about that and you know it.” You cross both arms over your chest and sit on the edge of the table, determined to get out of that agog that wouldn’t let you sleep. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He rubs a hand over his face, taking his time to retort and avoiding your eyes. “I can’t give you what you want.”

You laugh sardonically, challenging him. “And what is that?” His gaze is disdainful and rude, but you don’t let him intimidate you. “Are you afraid?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be shaking with fear. Joel was tough, to the point where some might call him cynical. But you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. His goal was to scare you off.

“Go. I don’t need you here.” You don’t move an inch, resolved to bring an end to whatever this was and ignoring his vicious glare.

“No,” you huffed.

“I told you to leave.” He was getting pissed, his voice trembling with anger and the cold words slicing the tense air.

“And I said no. I don’t take orders from you.” His lips were sealed in a fine line, eyes feisty. “Be honest with me and then I’ll see myself out.”

Silence again. A more prolonged one in which none of you had the bravery to come forward. Every second that went on and nothing happened was a torture you could not endure. That was it then, you’d made a fool of yourself yet again.

“Fine.” Your voice comes out unsteady from choking down the tears as you stand up straight, set on leaving all these feelings behind.

But right when you walk by his side, Joel’s hand grabs your arm softly. His grip wasn’t strong enough to hold you back if you really wanted to go, kind of like he was unsure about his own actions.

“Push me away.” He pleads. And it sounds desperate, as if the whole situation caused him agony. “Please, push me away.”

Your wet your lips, astonished by how guilty he appeared when practically begging you to stay away, “I can’t,” you respond, “I won’t.”

There was no turning back now. He had trapped himself on purpose and jeopardized everything the moment he laid his hand on you. The minute your eyes found each other’s, he realized he’d just lost all willpower that remained.

Joel pulled you closer and the sudden action almost made you trip, forcing you to place both hands on his chest to stay still. Something flicked in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite comprehend. But you took it as a sign to fully give in to your desires, as long as he’d permit it. You sit on his lap, solely enjoying the moment. His face, despite the beating, was ever so beautiful. It wasn’t fair. If he wanted you too, why did he have make it this difficult? Perhaps he was simply… Insecure.

“What have you done to me, sweetheart?” He asked, voice strained as he looks down at your lips. Your fingertips gently trace the edges of his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” One of his hands covers your thigh and the other rests on his knee.

“Do you like playin’ around with an old man like me?” You can’t help but laugh a bit, your thumb going across his bottom lip. “Is this what you want? A sweet thing like you can do so much better.”

“I don’t care for boys, or any other men for that matter.” His chest swells at your words. “I like you, Joel. Is that so hard to believe?” The man swears you can feel his heart thumping against his ribs when he whispers a barely audible ‘yes’. His honesty moved you and grew a weird feeling in your chest that impelled you to prove him wrong.

In response, you lastly get rid of that awful distance, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and feeling the unfamiliar tickle of his mustache. It was stubborn at first, but he caved in eventually, kissing you back slowly. He took his time to relish on your taste before deepening the kiss, manhandling you on top of him. Joel’s hands are on your lower back and the nape of your neck as his tongue explores your mouth in depth, letting go of himself. You moaned in between the kiss, drunken by every light stimulation, which only spurred him on and turned the situation hungrier, more desperate.

“Joel…” you pull back, laying your forehead against his. “I have to go.”

You feel him chuckle at your declaration. “Seriously? Now?” His tone was raspy and faint.

“I don’t want to.” You assure with a pout, “But I fear that if I stay, this won’t end in a simple kiss. And Ellie’s upstairs, remember?” He agreed it was for the best, but still couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself, asking you to stay the night even if he had to sleep on the couch.

That was the night that started everything.

After that weekend, the way he acted changed radically. He remained with that grim, stoic exterior. Yet, he was brighter around you, more beaming. In public, he’d always find a way to touch you, even if it was merely a brief brush of skin. On bolder days, he’d pull you apart from a crown and take you somewhere darker to make out for as long as you could. Which wasn’t much, since everyone always appeared to have some sort of unresolved business with either of you.

Today, however, something was odd. Joel went off, as usual, and you stayed with Ellie, who had found an old, ragged chessboard somewhere in Jackson. A game that, as it turns out, you particularly loved.

That’s how you ended up here.

Three rounds afterwards, you keep winning and increasing his irritation.

“Checkmate.” You say for the fifth time tonight, giving him a triumphant smile, getting up from your seat to pour some whiskey into your glass.

“You’re cheating.” He barks, annoyed.

“See! I told you.” Ellie backed him up and the way they teamed up to bash you almost made you giggle.

“Suck it up, losers!” You shout from the kitchen, entertained by their resentment.

“Spill your secrets then, otherwise I will simply not be convinced.” She replies, glowering.

The drink nearly dissolves on your tongue and you leave the glass on the counter, coming to join them again. You rest both hands on her shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“My grandpa thought me when I was young. Before the outbreak, I mean.” Ellie turns her head to look at you in interest. “He got sick afterwards… Forgetful and amnesiac.” You explain, “Chess stimulated his brain and since I was his only family left, we would spend hours playing.” Joel’s chest feels heavy at the sight of your nostalgic smile. “We had a great time together. He… Passed away a couple years ago.” Ellie takes your hand on her own in a comforting manner, but you don’t feel particularly sad, simply emotional about the past. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t you have a movie night with Dina today?”

“Shit!” Her eyes widen. “Thanks for the reminder, I totally lost track of time,” she gets up with an apologetic smile, “I’m gonna head out now.” She quickly takes a jacket and ties her hair up. “You guys can keep playing or… I don’t know, just don’t wait around for me.”

And just like that, you’re left alone.

After an entire week of sneaking around and behind everyone’s back, you’re finally alone.

There’s a shift in the air of the room and you narrow your eyes when you gape at him. “You think she knows something?”

He tilts his head to the side and finishes his whiskey. “Probably. Can’t know for sure.” The vague answer made you shrug, deciding to put a pin to it for later.

Now that no one was around, you were determined to have some fun, coming up with a plan that could escalate things between you. And he surely thought so too. It wouldn’t be difficult to get his attention, since he was constantly monitoring your every move. Being that way, you intentionally stand beside him when leaning to reorder the pieces, giving him a very good view of your ass.

“Another round?” You ask tauntingly, “Or are you already tired of getting defeated?”

He grunts, upset by the previous resolutions. “I’d like to play another game.” You turn around with a cheeky smile. “One that I won’t lose.”

“And what would that be?” He gives you a darkened, intense glance, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Joel Miller was a man of few words and he totally lived up to it. Instead of responding, he grabbed your hips and dragged your body to the side, so that you were now standing between his legs, lingering against the edge of the table. You swallow hard, meeting his heavy gaze from above him. It made your pulse raise and blood rush, igniting something that you haven’t quite felt with anyone else yet. He presses a kiss to your clothed abdomen, eyes never wandering from yours as he lowers his lips to your pelvis, lifting your shirt leisurely.

“Look at you, darlin’. All flustered and I’ve barely done anything.” Your chest rises and falls methodically, the atmosphere feeling dense despite the chilly air. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips when he starts laying open-mouthed kisses along your exposed belly, sending shivers through your whole body, “Off,” he motions at your clothes.

You do as told, getting rid of the shirt and tossing it to the floor. His big, warm hands strain your movements as he explores your skin, kissing all the way up to the valley of your breasts.

“Joel…” you take a fistful of his hair and pull at it mildly, just enough to yank his head backwards and bring your lips together, swallowing a whimper from him.

The kiss is ambitious, all teeth and tongue, as if you had been craving each other for long and had just barely given in. He swiftly stands up and sits you at the end of the table, spreading your knees to settle in between your thighs. He parts from your mouth and traces your jawline, neck and collarbones, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin, lightly scraping it with his facial hair. You were a mess at this point, panting and tugging at him as if you were about to collapse. But then he stops, breathing heavily against your chest and looking up to you with dark, lustful eyes.

“What- Did I do something wrong?” You stutter with uncertainty.

“Ain’t nothing wrong, angel.” His hand rests heavy on your thigh, a mischievous grin painted on his face. “But I told you we’d play a different game, didn’t I?”

This new side of him was exciting in many ways possible and whatever it was he wanted to do, you were certain it was going to be fun. And, possibly, a bit tortuous. You peer at him in expectation.

“Make your move.” He commanded, pointing the board with a succinct head movement. You obligue, choosing a random pawn and moving it with shaky hands while struggling to think straight. The man hums and decides to mirror your tactic. “Keep goin’.”

Next thing you know his fingers unhook your bra and you have to make a quick choice in spite of all the distractions. At the end, you go for a horse, barely capable of register anything other than his hands taking off the piece of clothing. After contemplating your scheme, he moves another pawn in return.

“Shit.” He hissed at the sight of your exposed tits, nipples hard from the cold air and arousal. “Focus.”

You weren’t sure if that last order was for him or for you, but either way the game kept going. He had enough attention span to grope your breasts and tweak your nipples between the pads of his calloused fingers, while also moving the chess pieces around. You couldn’t say the same for yourself; a louder moan escaping your lips when he replaced his fingers with his mouth.

The more ministrations he provided, the harder it became to make strategic moves. But you were determined not to let him win, regardless of the ache between your legs and the growing wetness in your panties that he refused to attend.

“Joel, I…” He takes away one of your rooks, his lips attached to your neck and hands caressing your inner thighs. “I need more.”

He huffs a laugh that vibrates through your lower body. “That right, angel? Tell me what you want.”

You take away his only bishop left and hear him growl at his approaching defeat. “Touch me, please.”

“Where?” His scent fogs your senses, so manly and distinctive of him, growing the need to feel him in any way possible. “Words, sweetheart.”

“I need your fingers in my cunt, Joel.” You spit out, watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down his throat and increasing his arousal with your lack of coyness. “Please.”

“Anything for my pretty girl.” He unbuttons your pants and slides one hand inside, palming your pussy over the underwear, altering your breathing pattern and moving the queen with his free hand. “Fuck, you’re drippin’.” You grind against his hand and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you still as he kneads circles on your clit over the thin fabric. “Your turn, darlin’.”

The game carries on at the same time as he moves your panties aside and slides two thick fingers inside your entrance, his thumb still fondling your nub slowly. You can’t keep your moans at low and the stimulation picks up when he curls his digits to hit your right spots. All that can be heard in the room is the cracking wood of the fireplace and the squelching sounds of your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, Joel…” you cry out his name, burying your face on the crook of his neck, grabbing the soft flannel in your fists and spilling all your whimpers into his ear, delighting yourself with the way he smelt. He groans at the feeling of your bare chest pressed to him, his cock throbbing painfully at every sound you’d make.

“You like that, darlin’? You like to fuck my fingers on top of this table like a needy little whore?” You clench around him and throw your head back, a new wave of slick coating all the way to his knuckles. “Ah, so you do like it.”

“Yes, Joel. I-” he speeds up his pace, greedily circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch, giving him a glorious view from his position.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Been wanting to do this for so fuckin’ long…” He admits, peppering kisses all over your breasts.

“Me too. Thought about you when I-” your voice gets lost at the sudden feeling of heat settling on your lower stomach, building up your crescendo. “When I was alone.” Your confession only manages to prompt him further and make his movements more effective. You squirm under his touch, a hand messing his hair while the other holds his belt to keep him close.

He groans a deep ‘fuck’ at the pathetic sound you made. All because of him. No; all of them for him.

“Joel, I’m- shit, I’m close,” there’s a hotness on the pit of your stomach that extends to your legs.

“I know, angel.” He coos, his free hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Go ahead, do it.” His words are all it takes for your orgasm to hit, shocking every nerve on your body. He helps you come down from it, tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin as your body quivers from elation.

“Joel…” you whisper, both your hands on his belt and going to unbuckle it, watching as he takes both fingers to his lips and licks them clean.

“Sweet” he kisses you again, deeply. You happily return it with the same energy, nibbling at his bottom lip while your palm slides inside his jeans to feel up his bulge over the underwear. He muffles a moan in your mouth, his hot, hard cock twitching under your grip.

Your hand drifts inside his boxers to feel him directly, your thumb rubbing over the tip to spread the surprising amount of precum that oozed there. Joel gasped into your mouth, the sound prompting you further.

“Checkmate.” You tell him, pulling back only when you needed to breathe, guiding your finger to your tongue in order to taste him. “I won.”

His eyes divert to the board in awe, and you admire his mesmerized expression when he confirms that you had, in fact, won again. Joel comes back to dote on your devilish grin, fueled up by a new thrill of excitement.

“Fuck this…” he mutters through gritted teeth, mindlessly tossing the board to the side and letting it fall off the table along with all the pieces, making an absolute mess. It appears like he doesn’t even register any of it, going straight back to kissing you, his hands sliding your pants down your legs.

“Shit, Joel…” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction, encouraged by his sudden passion.

As your lips collide once again, you start to unbutton his shirt and he helps you out of your jeans, along with your very wet panties. He pushes your back against the wooden surface, holding you down with a hand around your neck.

“Winners that boast in their victory are only brats.” He snarls, taking his dick out for you to see. Your mouth waters at the sight of it: thick, bigger than you could’ve expected, the head swollen and glistening. “Brats need to be tamed.”

You whine when he parts your thighs even wider, teasing your slit with his tip, covering it in your slick and intentionally grazing your aching clit, urging you to grab his bicep for support.

“Can’t you just fuck me already?” You blurt out, the sensation only edging you more. “I might just cum again from all the teasing.”

His fingertip sweeps across your bottom lip, an eyebrow raised. “You really that sensitive, angel?” He questions, “Or is it just because of me?”

The inquiry nearly makes you crack up. Damn, the man was totally clueless. “Are you really that unaware of the effect you have on me?”

His stare reflects how pleased he is to hear that. “How many times did you beat me tonight, sweetheart?”

It takes an actual effort for you to recall and muster up an answer when he keeps toying with you so mercilessly. “Three, I presume.”

Joel’s hand slithers to your lower back, keeping you angled for him. “Then I’ll get you off three times.” Your heart jumps at the sentence and you look at him in disbelief. “Can you do that, angel?”

Three fucking times?

When your whole life men had only ever given you… None, practically. One at most, if you were lucky enough. And Joel mother-fucking Miller had the nerve to ask if you could handle three.

“Bet.” The answer is music to his ears, giving in once and for all as he enters you unhurriedly.

He’s so big and you feel him splitting you open exquisitely, the sensation fading any thoughts, beliefs or identities from your mind. Right now, all you know is him. It stings a little and it forces you to screw your eyes shut, letting out a small whine as he bottoms out, your nails digging on his arm.

“You’re doing s’good, baby.” He continues to say in midst of it, talking your way through it, “Taking me so well…” You think it’s somewhat unfair that he’s still fully clothed and you’re naked as the day you came; yet, at the moment your mind can’t even think of anything but his cock, buried deep inside you. “If something feels off or it becomes to much… Let me know and I’ll stop.” You nod, eagerness starting to scratch your insides.

“Yes. Now can you please, please start moving.” He holds back a chuckle, gazing at you from above, barely lifting your hips to feel more of him.

“Atta girl,” he obeys, thrusting his hips sharply and deep. “Look so pretty beggin’ to be fucked.” His big arm travels to the arch in your back, withdrawing and pushing in again, slowly losing his consciousness to pleasure.

“Fucking hell, you fill me up so good…” he moans gruffly at your comment, pulling you down on his cock as he picks up an unrelenting pace, hitting every right spot as if he knew them all by memory.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” Joel drags in an out, rejoicing himself in every high pitched moan you’d spill. Your legs wrap around his waist in an effort to keep him as close as you could.

The angle is very intimate, his whole body flushed against yours, warm and firm, while your hand snakes under his flannel to dig your nails on his bare shoulders, the other scratching his scalp delicately and Joel’s hot, erratic breaths hitting your face as you gape at him. It’s like everything else disappeared and it was all about the two of you and this moment of pure rapture. Unable to contain your urge, you search for his lips, kissing him one more time, the mixture of mint and alcohol in his mouth fogging your senses in the best way possible.

His tip nudges your g-spot relentlessly, the stretch his girth provided so satisfying that you clench around him as your second orgasm approaches, causing him to pull apart from the kiss and let out a sinful groan, deep from his throat, that sends a shudder up your spine. It all becomes too much; the friction of your delicate nipples with his shirt, his thick cock dragging against your walls and lastly, Joel’s teeth biting down the soft skin under your ear, his facial hair scraping deliciously. That is your cum button.

“That’s my girl, making a mess on my dick,” he fucks you through it, slowing down his pace and only pulling out when your legs tremble. “Say it darlin’, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Joel…” he basks in the view of your fucked out self, looking up at him in a delirious state, eyes low, heat soared across your cheeks and lips plumped. “Shit, Miller,” you sit up, arm still hanging around his broad shoulders while his hard, throbbing cock rested against your thigh. “You’re so fucking hot, did you know that? It drives me insane.”

He laughs huskily, his big hand caressing the side of your face in a caring manner. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks softly, “I think I might’ve fucked you so hard I scrambled your brain.”

You actually crack up this time, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering an: “Idiot.” He grabs your thighs and methodically swirls your body, flushing your back against his chest. Without warning, he slams into you again, making you yelp at the sudden action.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” he pokes fun at you, “next time we’ll put it to use.” And the promise raises goosebumps on your skin.

This new position gave you the opportunity to feel him deeper, if that was even possible. His thighs and hips firm against yours, every single snap making you feel that delicious stretch he provided as your cunt envelopes him tightly. But you were already far too sensitive and every light touch added to his thrusts made your body feel weaker.

“Joel, I-” he holds you with an arm covering your waist, his fingers pinching your nipples. “Fuck, I won’t last…”

He becomes more vocal, his disjointed moans drifting from his lips right into your ear while the hand on your hip makes its way to rub your clit gloriously, in a way that makes you wonder just how the fuck does he know exactly what your body likes.

“Is my sweet girl gonna cum for me?” you nod, unable to form any words, only capable of reveling on the way his cock throbs inside you. “Speak, remember?”

But you can’t. Nothing comes out of your mouth besides his name, like a constant plea. When the third one finally came, it was simply euphoric; your whole body shudders and your vision goes white, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you start to feel lightheaded. Joel draws out with a grunt, a string of curses leaving his lips as you spin around to see him. Your hand wraps around his own when he fucks his fist and you take in the sight of him cumming all over your fingers, his forehead laying on your shoulder as you milk him. Inevitably, you lick your fingers to taste his salty load. A sight that would be engraved in his brain for the rest of his days and that could possibly haunt him in his time apart from you.

“Checkmate my ass,” he grits between shaky breaths, your hand stroking his hair as he comes down from his high.

“What a sore loser…” you joke. In fact, you plan to say something more, but you feel too tired for anything.

It didn’t really matter, though. Joel took good care of you. He bathed with you, cleaned up the whole mess and gave you one of his shirts for you to sleep with, eventually going to bed with your very passed out self.

Well, if Ellie didn’t know anything before, she surely will now.

that was hot

cat's outta the bag

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: 3 times they almost got caught, and 1 time that they did

warnings/tags: [18+, minors DNI] fwb!joel, language, smut, unprotected PIV sex, oral [f & m recieving], literally just porn lmao

word count: 4.9k

prequel to this here

A shelf was digging painfully into your shoulder blade, and the sharp edge of it nudged dully into your flesh with every one of Joel’s movements. He had you pinned up on the countertop, your pants around your knees. He’d been so eager, so pent up after a fortnight of not getting to touch you. Your patrols hadn’t been matching up, and you’d both been busy with friends, and odd jobs, and life. After three hours on horseback the pair of you had finally reached the checkpoint, and you’d only managed to get his zipper undone and tug his pants down a fraction before he’d shoved you up on the bench, stepping between your legs.

The safehouse was dank and dusty, nothing but a dilapidated hiding place with a few stashed weapons and a logbook on the coffee table to leave patrol notes in. The two of you had fucked there many times, on quiet patrol days. Sometimes it was just to pass the time; just something to do to cure a mutual boredom. Other times, this time, it was a frustration release.

Joel’s hips pounded mercilessly into you, his cock pushing heavily against the deepest part of you with every thrust. One of his hands gripped your waist, and the other was under your shirt, fingers circling and tugging on your nipple as you gasped wetly into his mouth.

“Never goin’ two weeks without fuckin’ you again,” he grunted against your lips, puffing out heavy breaths. “Been fuckin’ my first every night like a goddamn teenager, imagining it was your pussy.”

“Shit, Joel,” you moaned, thighs tightening around his waist. His hand drifted from your waist down past your hip to grip your leg behind your knee, holding it in place against his hip. You cringed in pain as your shoulder struck the shelf again with a particularly rough thrust, but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Couldn’t risk him stopping, couldn’t risk it when your orgasm was so fucking close. 

Your hands were under his shirt, and your nails dug into the skin of his back, no doubt leaving red marks in your wake. His cock was thick and heavy inside of you, stretching you out deliciously after two weeks of missing him. Hard as you tried, your fingers could never produce the same effect as this; you feared nothing, and no one would ever compare to the way he fucked you.

His mouth was on your neck, spitting curses as he bucked into you. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you pulsed around him, a ringing filling your ears as you fell over the edge. Euphoria filled your bloodstream, and a loud bang filled the room as his hand slammed down onto the counter beside you. Joel was grunting in your ear, chasing his own end now that he knew you were satisfied. But as his hips began to stutter against yours, losing their rhythm, a faint whistle could be heard from outside the house.

The pair of you froze, his hips stilling with his length fully sheathed in you. Your soaked cunt was still pulsing around him, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your body shake against the bench.

“It’s Dina and Jesse,” you muttered quickly, the realisation dawning on you that they were there to relieve the two of you from your patrol. Joel’s face pulled back from your neck and you cringed to see his thunderous expression. His lips were pursed tightly, harsh exhales huffing out of his nose, and a gorgeous blush painted his cheeks. Reluctantly, he dragged his hand out from under your shirt, but made no move to step back. Frustration rolled off him in waves, his chest rising and falling with short sharp breaths.

“Joel,” you snapped urgently, hand pressing on his chest. “They’ll be in here any second.”

“Fuck,” he snarled, pulling his hips away from you and groaning at the feeling of his length slipping out of your heat. You dropped off the bench quickly, cringing at the sudden emptiness as you pulled your pants up around your hips. His cock was out of his jeans, head painfully red and weeping pre-cum. You could tell he was aching from the way he gripped himself, thumb stroking along a vein that protruded along his length as he stared at you intensely. There were getting closer to the door now, and you could hear them talking softly. Joel must have heard them too, because he tucked himself into his pants and did his belt up quickly, walking over to the coffee table and scribbling quickly in the logbook.

When Dina and Jesse walked through the door you offered them a quick nod, shouldering your rifle and gripping your pack, attempting to walk normally and not be obvious about how painful the ache between your thighs was.

“Took your fucking time,” Joel grunted at them, before slipping out the front door and stalking towards the horses.

----------------

You’d had a long day at the greenhouse. Summer was in full swing, and the sun bore down on you all day. By the end of your shift, a headache was twinging at your temple, and there was a light red tinge across your shoulders and nose.

You didn’t think twice before bypassing your own home, and heading directly to Joel’s. He answered your knock at the door after only a few seconds, and the frown on his face slid off when he saw you.

“Jesus,” he huffed a laugh. “You forget to put a hat on today, sunshine?”

“It’s been a long day,” is all you said. “Are you home alone?” His eyes darkened as he understood what you were asking, and he stepped aside to let you in.

You didn’t make it up the stairs. He pushed you down onto the couch, kissing and sucking at your neck, lips trailing down your body as he tugged your shorts off your legs. Running your fingers through his short dark hair, you pulled gently on the strands, revelling in the sighs of contentment he let out against your thigh. Hands rubbed into your skin, and goosebumps rippled across your flesh despite the heat, as he knocked your knees apart and knelt on the hardwood floor between your legs.

“This what you want?” he looked up at you, desire swimming in his dark brown eyes. “You get all sweaty and sunburnt and then come here for me to kiss it better?” 

You nodded pathetically as he kissed the inside of your knee, holding your gaze.

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you breathed, gripping the collar of his shirt. “Had a shit day, need you to make it better.”

He licked a stripe along the inside of your thigh, and you sighed heavily, chest rising and falling quickly as he worked his way closer to the ache between your legs. When his fingers grazed the front of your underwear, he groaned to feel how wet the material was.

“Y’always get so wet for me,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the fabric. You flinched, your cunt throbbing.

“Just a coincidence,” you said, smiling lazily as his tongue dragged against the fabric, giving you both a tease of what was to come. He didn’t respond, impatiently pushing the material to the side, before dragging two of his fingers through your slick folds. He didn’t waste any time, one of his thick digits slipping past your entrance and curling inside of you. His eyes watched you closely as he pulled his hand back and sucked his finger into his mouth, licking the taste of you off his skin.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, gripping your underwear, and removing it hastily. He threw the garment somewhere over his shoulder, and before you could criticise him, his large hands were gripping your thighs and tugging them over his shoulders. You gasped in surprise, dropping down on the couch. “Let me kiss it better now.”

His nose dragged through the dark curls on your mound, inhaling deeply. Without warning, he ducked his head and his broad tongue dragged through your folds. A haggard sigh tore from your lips at the sensation. You let your head drop back against the top of his couch, closing your eyes.

Tired mumbles of his name and curses fell from your lips and you rocked your hips up, eager for more friction. Your nose scrunched up as his tongue circled your entrance, nose bumping your clit, and you winced as your sunburnt skin crinkled. You willed your face to relax, and breathed deeply as he fucked you with his mouth.

Looking down for a moment, your stomach tightened to see him watching your reactions as his mouth worked greedily, sucking, and licking into you.

You could feel yourself nearing your end already. He always knew how to get you there, knew exactly what made you tick. But as you went to verbalise it, to tell him how close you were, how good it felt, a rapid knock came at the door. Your eye twitched at the sound, and you looked in the direction of the sound. Unperturbed, Joel continued his ministrations, gripping your thighs closer to his head and fucking into you with his tongue. You whimpered softly and felt your thighs begin to shake where they rested on his shoulders. 

You cried out his name as he changed his rhythm, tongue flicking quickly across your clit in side-to-side movements. As the heat began to build again, another sharp knock landed on his front door and you cursed loudly, in annoyance this time.

“Joel?” a woman’s voice called from outside. “Are you home?”

“Is that Natalie fucking Wilson,” you hissed, pushing his face away from you. The woman worked at the stables, and it was painfully obvious to everyone how smitten she was with Joel. Her eyes would follow him everywhere he went; on the street, when he came through the stables on patrol, when she spotted him the Tipsy Bison. She acted like a dog on heat when he was around, and you didn’t blame her; your friend was attractive. But you never thought she’d come knocking at his fucking door. 

Joel’s eyes were dazed as he looked up, finally registering the sound of her voice outside. His lips were parted as he breathed deeply, staring up at you, pupils dilated. Your slick made his lips and beard shine, and your heart pounded at the sight of him looking so blissed out just from going down on you.

“Did you know she was coming over?” you groused, moving to sit up straight.

“Don’t know what she wants,” he grunted, his forearm moving to press across your stomach, holding you down. “Ignore it.” He pressed messy kisses against your pussy, trying to convince you.

“Joel,” you huffed moments later when she knocked again, frustrating spiking in your already tense muscles. “She’s not going anywhere.” You attempted to slide out from under his grasp.

“Don’t you dare move,” he said lowly, his grip on you tightening in a warning. Before you could speak again, his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, ending with a sharp flick across your clit, and anything you were going to say was cut off by a low moan.

“Fuck,” you sighed, one hand sliding down to grip his hair again. He groaned in response, sending a vibration through your core. His long tongue dipped into your entrance, before moving up to draw slow circles around your clit, his leisurely pace driving you insane. It was as if he wasn’t even concerned with making you finish, just lazily running his tongue over you, savouring the taste of you, all for his own pleasure.

“Joel?” her voice rang out again, and your head turned to the side to glance at the door. With a startled noise, you realised you could see her. She was bent down, trying to glance through the front window. Thankfully the curtains were drawn, with only a crack of space for her to peak through. 

“She’s gonna fucking see us,” you panted, fingers gripping the back of his head as you writhed beneath him. “Stop, stop.”

He pulled back for a split second and said, “Shut the fuck up,” before his mouth was back on your slick cunt. Your back arched as heat soared through you, legs shaking vigorously as he held them to his shoulders, fingertips digging painfully into your soft flesh.

“I’m so close,” you whispered breathlessly, staring nervously at the window. You took your hand off the back of his head and raised it to cover your mouth, teeth digging into your palm. He grunted, reaching up to grip your hand and shove it back into his hair. As another, louder, knock landed on his front door, you gasped brokenly and fell over the edge, your orgasm flooding through you, hips bucking against his fierce grip. His mouth continued moving against you, eagerly swallowing your release, his deep moans vibrating through your core.

As you came down from your high, Joel pressed a chaste kiss to your clit before pulling back, gazing up at you breathlessly with a tired grin on his face. He turned his head and wiped his mouth on your inner thigh, before kissing the skin. His hands rubbed along the muscles of your thighs, relaxing the bunching up muscles. Silence settled over the room, and your eyes begged to close, the release paired with a long day making you sleepy.

“You hear that?” he asked with a smirk, and you frowned in confusion. “I think she’s finally gone.”

----------------

“Do you know what you’re doin’ to me right now?”

The Tipsy Bison was crowded. It was Saturday night, and countless people were milling around the hall, drinking, and dancing and chatting. You were five drinks deep, having a good time with your friends, and enjoying the way the Summer breeze blew in through the open doors and caressed your skin.

“Whatever do you mean?” you sipped your drink, looking at Joel out of the corner of your eye. He was sat beside you in the booth, and the two of you had been left alone when Tommy and Maria went off to dance, and Lou and Carl disappeared to get more drinks.

“That dress,” he muttered, the alcohol in his system making his Southern drawl all the more noticeable. You grinned cheekily into your glass, shoulders shaking with laughter. The dress was something you kept tucked away for most of the year, considering it was only appropriate for very warm weather. With thin straps and a short hemline, the skin of your shoulders, chest, and legs was all visible.

“Oh, you like it?” you teased, eyes lazily dragging around the room, watching people dancing and singing.

Joel didn’t speak. Instead, he gripped your hand and dragged it under the table, placing it over his lap. You froze when you felt him under his jeans, stiff as a board, pressing against his zipper. 

“I love it,” he said gruffly.

“You’re drunk,” you laughed, palming him through his jeans.

“I am,” he nodded, his hand pressing down on top of yours, applying more pressure. “Can’t stop lookin’ at you. At your mouth, thinking about your lips around my cock.”

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was in earshot of your conversation.

“Sorry,” he lied, bleary eyes staring into yours. You gazed at him for a moment, contemplating, before you nudged him out of the booth.

“Come with me,” you said, turning and walking quickly towards the bathrooms at the back of the hall. You ducked your head inside quickly, and when you saw that all of the stalls were empty, and not a single person in sight, you tugged him in after you.

You pushed him into one of the stalls and locked the door behind you.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he murmured, leaning in to press his mouth against your neck. His teeth nipped against your pulse point and you hissed, but then his tongue soothed over the sore spot and a warmth grew in your stomach.

“No,” you whispered, and he paused, pulling back to look at you. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out as he watched you lower onto your knees in front of him. You worked hastily to undo his belt, salivating as you pulled his thick cock out of his briefs.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, eyes dark as he stared down at you. “You’re killin’ me.”

Grinning, you stroked his length slowly, letting your thumb slide over the bead of precum on his weeping head. You raised your thumb to your lips and sucked it into your mouth slowly, tasting him with a soft moan. He was swollen and pulsating from lack of attention, his ruddy head begging to be touched. Eagerly, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his head. A sharp breath rushed out of his mouth, and you laughed as his head knocked against the stall, giving small, soft kitten licks against his slit.

One of his hands rested heavily on your shoulder, thumb grazing back and forth along your collarbone as your tongue licked from his tip to his base. Sweat slicked your back under the light material of your dress, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You gripped his length in your hand and stroked gently as you parted your lips around the tip, taking it into your warm mouth. His hand tightened on you. You pressed forward and let him sink further into your mouth, moving your head in a slow rhythm with your hand. White noise rushed in your ears, and you couldn’t help but bring your fingers down to brush against the front of your panties, feeling the dampness that had collected there. You whimpered around the weight of him, wishing he was inside of you.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you could vaguely hear him muttering, and you hummed around him. You loved the way he babbled when you had your mouth around him, like he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he just talked. “Look so perfect with my cock in your mouth, been thinkin’ about this all night. Look at me, gimme those eyes.”

You looked up with wide eyes and pushed yourself further down his length, tongue swirling fervently around his tip. His face crumpled in pleasure, hips jutting forward instinctively, and you choked as he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You squeezed his thigh in forgiveness, pulling back for a breath before sucking his tip back into your mouth, tongue dragging along his sensitive slit as you blinked away tears.

After giving yourself another quick moment to breathe, you put your mouth around him and pushed yourself as far as you could, revelling in the sounds of his deep breaths as your nose almost brushed the curls at his base. Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes, and he brushed them away tenderly. He was so deep, nudging the back of your throat, and you swallowed around him, gagging lightly.

Joel let out a choked sound, his fingers burying themselves in your hair.

“God, your fuckin’ mouth,” he groaned. “Y’take me so well. Open up wider for me, c’mon.” Inhaling deeply through your nose, you went to move again, but stilled at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Your panicked eyes met Joel’s and he held a finger to his mouth, urging you to stay silent.

Laughter filled the room as two women entered.

“Did you see him? He’s so drunk,” one of them slurred, giggling loudly.

“He’s been all over you tonight,” the other one said, and a tap started running.

A mischievous thought ran through your head, and without hesitating, you began to bob up and down, letting him fuck your mouth. His hand tightened in your hair, giving you a warning look and a shake of his head. But he must’ve seen the determined look in your eyes, because his resolve faltered, and he let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck,” he mouthed as you pulled off almost completely, suctioning your lips around his tip and stroking him firmly with your hand.

The women were chattering loudly, the water still running, and thankfully the noise covered up any sounds that the two of you were making.

“Stop,” he mouthed urgently, but you shook your head, taking his full length into your mouth again. You hummed around him and his eyes shut tightly, hips pushing forward, searching for his release. He was close, and you both knew it, and even with the women standing a metre away, you weren’t going to stop.

But he didn’t give you a choice, gripping your hair in his fist and pulling you off him completely. Holding your head still, he reached down with his other hand and began to touch himself. You could feel how wet you were, slick dripping down your thighs. You watched with hooded eyes as he tugged on his cock, his mouth hanging open in pleasure.

The tap turned off suddenly, and you vaguely heard the women leave the bathroom as you leant forward and parted your lips in front of him.

“Open up for me,” he encouraged, biting his bottom lip harshly. He gripped himself tight, stroking quickly and maintaining eye contact with you. Your cheeks were hot under his gaze, but you held your mouth open patiently, and when he came in hot, thick spurts onto your tongue you swallowed it down eagerly. Leaning forward to take his tip into your mouth again, you sucked and licked at him until he was pushing you back, thumb stroking your cheek in appreciation.

Joel redid his buckle and helped you off the ground, wincing at the sound of your knees cracking painfully. With a smile, he wiped the mix of saliva and his spend off your chin, before bringing the finger up to his own mouth to suck it clean.

“You good?” you rasped, and he nodded slowly. “Alright, follow me out after a minute or two. Don’t wanna be too obvious.”

----------------

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Joel to visit you at work. The greenhouse was in a quiet part of the settlement. It was a small building, filled with tall heavy foliage, and countless boxes of soil that fed life into vegetables and herbs. More often than not, you would work long days all by yourself, and sometimes he would pop by to enjoy the peace and quiet while you tended to the produce. That day though, when he’d walked into the greenhouse, he’d been tense.

“Howdy soldier,” you’d smiled, busy repotting a tomato plant. But your interest was piqued when you heard shuffling, and you glanced up to see him pushing a heavy crate across the ground, settling it in front of the door. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I need you,” he’d said in a low voice, making his way across the room towards you. Your gloved hands stilled in the soil, dumbfounded. “Woke up thinking about your pussy, had to get myself off twice before I could even leave the house. Had you in my head all fuckin’ day.”

“I’m working,” you’d replied, eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

That’s how you ended up shirtless, with your torso pressed down onto the wooden table in the middle of the room. Joel’s large hands were splayed across your back, fingers and lips dragging along your skin. The tip of his cock was nudging your entrance, silently asking permission. Your hips twitched backwards, soaked cunt aching to be filled.

“Just fuck me already,” you muttered, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

He glared down at you, eyes greedily taking in the sight of you laid out against the worktop, back arching as you pushed your ass against him. “Don’t act like you’re not dripping right now. I can feel it; you need this just as much as I do.”

You bit your tongue, knowing he was right. With a low groan, he slid into you in one smooth movement, fingertips digging into the skin of your back. You sighed at the sensation, enjoying the dull ache that always came when he was first inside you. He was so long, so thick. Stretching you so perfectly, always hitting that spot so deep that it had you gasping for breath.

He fucked you quickly, the way he always did. But the angle was harsh at first, and you reached a hand back and pressed it to his thigh; squeezed once, gently.

“Slower,” you breathed, and he complied. His thrusts turned slow, lazily dragging himself fully out before pushing back in to the hilt. You hummed in approval, your forehead resting against the bench.

The burn faded as your arousal grew, and soon enough you were so slick that there was no pain at all, and you found yourself moaning with every movement of his hips.

“So tight,” he was babbling into your neck, chest pressing tightly against your back. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

He couldn’t help but quicken his pace again, but you weren’t bothered this time. The head of his cock nudged against your cervix with every thrust, and you moaned deeply, one of your hands drifting to rest over your mouth, attempting to muffle the sounds.

“The hell are you doin’?” he asked from behind you, hand reaching down to bunch your hair at the base of your neck. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you when I’m fuckin’ you.”

You mewled, basking in the feeling of his body all over you, inside of you. He was everywhere, the smell of his sweat filling up your nostrils.

“Christ,” you mumbled, eyes rolling back in your head as he gave a particularly hard thrust, your body jolting into the table. His name spilled out of your mouth urgently as your stomach suddenly tightened, and you could tell you were close.

“Joel?”

You flinched, eyes widening as you recognised the voice as Tommy’s. He must’ve been right outside the greenhouse.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, cringing at the thought of him catching you both. How the fuck would you explain this? You thanked your lucky stars that the glass building was filled with so much greenery, that from the outside the two of you wouldn’t be visible through the brush. But your stomach dropped when you heard the door handle rattling as he attempted to get inside.

“You in there Joel?” he called again. “Maria said she saw you headed down here, I need your help with something.” 

“Fuck off Tommy,” Joel yelled suddenly, frustration clear in his voice.

“Joel,” you begged quietly, making a weak attempt to lift your head. His hand maintained its grip on your hair at the base of your neck, and the other pressed on the small of your back, keeping you pinned to the table. Your hand tightened over your mouth, fingertips digging into your cheek.  

“C’mon,” he grunted. “I know you’re close. Let me fuckin’ feel you, want to feel you grippin’ me while you cum. Go on now, let me have it.”

Tommy’s voice was closer now, and you bit down onto your knuckles as your orgasm creeped ever closer. Joel’s thrusts were unforgiving, the angle helping his cock reach the deepest spot inside of you.

“Don’t fuckin’ come in here,” Joel snapped loudly, hips not ceasing their movements in the slightest. His skin met yours in a satisfying smack, smack, smack. Your body was positively vibrating, core tightening around him as you felt yourself dangle precariously on the edge of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled into your hand. “I can’t, Joel.”

“Yes you fucking can,” he panted, leaning down to press a kiss against your shoulder. “Give it to me, baby.”

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Tommy’s voice was closer still. You heard the door to the greenhouse open a fraction and bang against the crate Joel had blocked it with.

“Tommy,” Joel shouted, and your face was on fire against the table as you realised what was about to happen. “I’ll wring your fuckin’ neck if you come in here right now.”

Straining your neck against Joel’s hold, you glanced up just in time to see Tommy’s head poke through the gap in the door and make eye contact with you at the exact moment your release tore through you. Your mouth hung open in ecstasy, moans spilling against your hand. But muffling your cries was futile considering he had definitely seen you, and wet sounds were filling the room as Joel fucked you, your cum dripping down your legs. Tommy’s face paled, and he disappeared from the doorway – but not before Joel spotted him.

 “You fuckin’ idiot,” Joel spat. “Get the fuck out.”

Through it all, his hips never slowed, and you choked out a gasp as his palm landed with a loud crack against your ass. He gripped the flesh, and your eyes rolled back in your head as you imagined the bruises that would no doubt be there tomorrow. Suddenly, he was spitting curses and groans of your name. Joel gripped your shoulders and tugged your body up so your back was flush to his chest.

One of his hands came around to grip your breast, thumb and index finger pinching your nipple as his other hand drifted down your stomach to rest over your mound. You cried out desperately as his finger dragged over your clit, and another orgasm ripped through your body. He pulsed inside of you, hips spasming frantically, and you could feel his hot spend coating your walls, deep groans echoing off the glass walls of the greenhouse.

When the aftershocks of your orgasms had worn off, he didn’t pull out. Just gripped you tight, kissing your neck slowly.

“Well,” he cleared his throat quietly, his large palm splayed across your stomach, holding you to his chest. His forehead lowered to rest on your shoulder, his weight beginning to lean heavier on your back as exhaustion came over him. “Guess the cat’s outta the bag.”

a continuation

so, so, so incredibly true tho

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

inspired by @ellliemilller, i'm not half as good as you at this but i had an idea so i thought why not

#making silly faces is reserved only for his daughters

THE LAST OF US - Left Behind