#pedro pascal character fanfiction

[stylesispunk]

"You're the loss of my life"

outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you and Joel went from one kiss to getting married to becoming strangers.

w.c: 5k>

Warnings: angst, implications of cheating, mentions miscarriage. Perhaps some grammar mistakes because no proofreading oops!

a/n: I know everything I write is angst but is what it fits in my mind right now. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💌

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

The day you killed yourself, you woke up. The salty tears streamed down to your ears. There was a pity gaze you didn't want to meet, looking down at you, perhaps asking why. 

You didn't want to talk, even less to answer the pitiful comments from people who thought they had a say on all this.

You remember the fall. You remember Joel running to Sophie to save her life instead of yours, instead of both. You and the baby who was inside you. The one who wasn't there anymore because of its tiny form didn't resist the impact of your fall.

What a tragedy.

Sadness overcame you in the aftermath. In a world like this, treating your wounded body wasn't as hard as treating your heart, which became a frozen glass shell.

The days that followed were a blur, each moment blending into the next, a never-ending cycle of grief and numbness. You avoided mirrors, hating the reflection of a person you no longer recognized. The hollow eyes, the lifeless expression—they belonged to a ghost, not to you.

Joel tried to talk to you, his words a constant hum in the background. "I'm sorry," he'd say. "I didn't know what to do." But his apologies were meaningless, lost in the chasm that had formed between you. He perhaps saved Sophie because he loved her more, because in that split second, she was the one who mattered.

Not you anymore.

You spent hours in the nursery, the room you had so carefully prepared. The crib, the tiny clothes, the stuffed animals—all mocking reminders of what could have been. Your hands would linger on the soft blankets, tears falling silently onto the fabric. It was in that room that you felt the closest to the baby you had lost—a place where the field of dreams you had died.

One night, as you sat in the dark, the pain was too much to bear, and you decided you couldn't go on. The world was too cruel, too indifferent to people's suffering. You wrote a letter, your final words, to those who might wonder why. It was brief—just a few sentences explaining the unbearable weight of your grief and the unending ache in your heart. Meeting your family and beloved ones in heaven sounded better than keeping yourself prisoner in a world that would never be a safe place for anyone.

You took the pills, each one a step closer to peace. As you drifted off, you felt a strange sense of calm, a release from the torment that had consumed you. You hoped that in death, you would find the solace that eluded you in life.

But then you woke up again. The salty tears streamed down to your ears. There was a pity gaze you didn't want to meet, looking down at you, perhaps asking why.

Waking up again felt like a cruel joke. You were back in the same world, with the same pain. But something was different. Joel was there, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He took your hand, his touch hesitant and afraid.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice breaking.

You turned away, unable to meet his gaze. The wound was still too fresh, and the betrayal was still too raw to face them.

Joel's gaze burned in your back, and the smell of death was in the room. You held your breath for a moment. You wanted to smell the flowers and the baby smell of the little head of your baby, which you would never get to meet.

"Why?" he questioned, and for the first time, his voice did soothe your wounds; instead, it caused your blood to boil inside you and irritated you.

"I want Ellie here, not you."

"Baby- “

"Go." Your voice could slice Joel’s skin.

He recoiled as if struck, his face crumpling with pain. He stood there for a moment, looking lost and broken. "Please, don't push me away," he pleaded, but you couldn't hear him through the rage and grief that consumed you.

"Leave," you repeated, your voice cold and final.

Joel's shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that followed was suffocating, a void that threatened to swallow you whole. You curled into a ball, the tears flowing freely now—a torrent of pain and loss.

“Go to Sophie,” you whispered to the void, allowing yourself to cry.

Time seemed to stand still in that moment; your sobs were the only sound in the quiet room. You didn't know how long you lay there, but eventually, you heard a soft knock on the door.

Ellie's voice was hesitant when she called out your name, filled with a mix of anger and concern. "Can I come in?"

You didn't answer, but she opened the door anyway, slipping inside and closing it behind her. She looked at you, her expression torn between fury and sadness.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "Why did you try to leave me too?"

You looked up at her, seeing the pain in her eyes and mirroring your own. "I... I didn't think I could handle it anymore," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I lost everything, Ellie. I lost you, I lost Joel, and I lost the baby. I didn't know how to go on."

Ellie walked over to you, her steps hesitant. "You didn't lose me. I'm still here," she said, her voice softening. "But you almost did. And I'm so mad at Joel. He should have saved you both. He should have done more."

“Do you think Joel doesn’t love me anymore?” you sobbed.  The pain in your voice broke Ellie’s heart.

She kneeled beside you, taking your hands in hers. "I don’t know what’s on his mind now," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But I do know he loves you. He's just... broken too. We're all broken."

You pulled her into a tight embrace, both of you crying together, sharing the weight of your grief. “I lost my baby because of him.”

Ellie held you tighter, her own tears mingling with yours. "Cry,” she said softly. "Blaming him won't bring the baby back. It won't help us heal. We have to find a way to forgive and move forward."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, finding strange solace in each other’s arms. The pain was still there, raw and overwhelming.

You were standing in the small kitchen of your home in Jackson, the dilapidated walls a far cry from the security of the life you once knew. But for a moment, you allowed yourself to dream of something better. Your hands trembled slightly as you held the small, worn piece of paper—a positive pregnancy test, a symbol of new life in a world consumed by death.

Joel walked in, weary from a long day of patrol. His eyes lit up when he saw you, but they quickly clouded with concern as he noticed the look on your face.

"What's going on?" he asked, setting down his backpack and walking over to you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Joel, I have something to tell you,” you began, your voice shaking. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, there was silence. Joel's expression shifted from confusion to shock, and then to something darker—fear and maybe even anger.

"Pregnant?" he repeated, his voice rising slightly. "In this world? How could you be so irresponsible?"

The words hit you like a physical blow, your earlier excitement and hope crumbling into dust. "Irresponsible?" you echoed, your own voice rising defensively. "It takes two people to do this, you know.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You know what it’s like out there! Every day is a fight for survival. We can barely keep ourselves alive, and now you want to bring a baby into this?”

“I know this is not the best way, but what do you want me to do?” 

“You know what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought them back, unwilling to show weakness at his suggestion. "I know it's dangerous, Joel. But it's also a chance for us to have a future. To have a reason to keep going."

Joel's face softened for a moment, but then the hard lines returned. "And what if we can't protect it? What if we lose it? Bringing a baby into this world... it's a death sentence."

You turned away, unable to look at him. "I thought you'd be happy," you whispered, the tears finally spilling over. "I thought this would be something good for us."

He reached out, but you stepped back, the distance between you growing. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now, but the damage was done. "I just... I can't see how this can work."

You clutched the pregnancy test to your chest, tainted by doubt and fear. “Are you mad because of the baby, or what would Sophie think of this?" you questioned quietly.

Joel's expression faltered, and he looked away, unable to meet your gaze. The mention of Sophie seemed to strike a chord, bringing a new layer of tension to the room.

"Sophie has nothing to do with this," he muttered, but the words lacked conviction.

"Doesn't she?" You pressed, your voice rising. "She's always in the back of your mind, Joel. Every decision you make, every risk you take, it's always about protecting her."

"She's my partner in patrol,” he shot back, his voice growing louder. "I’m just as protective as I am with everyone here! I can't fail her, or you. But this world... it's no place for a child."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I know you're scared, Joel. So am I. But we can't live our lives in fear. This baby is a chance for us to have something real, something good. Don't you see that?"

Joel's shoulders slumped, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. "I do see it," he admitted quietly. "But it doesn't change the reality we live in. I just... I don't know if I can take that risk."

The room fell silent, the tension hanging thick in the air. You turned away from him, your heart heavy with a mixture of hope and despair. "I'm going to do everything I can to protect this baby," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. "With or without you."

Joel looked at you, pain and conflict warring in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it, shaking his head. He turned and walked out, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen, your heart breaking as the small symbol of hope in your hand seemed to grow heavier by the second.

The “I do” and vows seemed so foreign in the back of your mind now.

A week had passed since your almost-death. The days were a blur of grief and small steps toward recovery. Ellie remained close; her presence was a constant reminder that there was still something worth fighting for. In your head, you felt guilt and pity, not strong enough to keep believing you were the same woman who arrived here. You were the gosh of a lively fighter who became a lifeless frame.

Maria approached you in the cafeteria, where you were trying to busy yourself. She had always been a pillar of strength in Jackson and a calming presence for you since the day you, Joel, and Ellie arrived.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice gentle. "How are you holding up?"

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down. Maria sighed, pulling up a chair beside you. "I know it's hard. But you need to take things slow. You can't rush healing."

You nodded, though her words felt distant. The weight of your grief was a constant presence, making everything seem surreal. "I just... I don't know how to keep going. I don’t know how to do this again," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as Sarah’s lifeless frame came to your mind.

You had lost another child.

Maria reached out, squeezing your hand. "One day at a time," she said. "And remember, it's okay to lean on others. You don't have to do this alone."

You wanted to believe her, but the pain was too fresh and overwhelming. As the days turned into a week, you forced yourself to go through the motions, trying to find some semblance of normalcy. One afternoon, you found yourself in the cafeteria of Jackson. The noise and bustle were a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

Maria was there, talking to a few people, and she caught your eye, giving you an encouraging smile. You tried to smile back, but it felt forced. The weight of your loss was a constant shadow, making everything seem heavier.

As you moved through the line, Maria came over, her expression concerned. "Hey, remember what I said. Take it slow. You don't have to do everything at once."

Something inside you snapped. The pressure, the grief, the guilt—it all came crashing down. "Take it slow?" you repeated, your voice rising. "How am I supposed to take it slow when everything is falling apart? How am I supposed to keep going when I not only lost my baby but also my husband?!”

The cafeteria fell silent, all eyes turning towards you. You could feel the weight of their stares, the shock, and the pity. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as the enormity of your outburst sank in.

Maria reached out, but you recoiled, your emotions spiraling out of control. "I don't need to take it slow!" you shouted, tears streaming down your face. "I need... I need..." You didn't even know what you needed; the pain was too overwhelming to articulate.

Joel was there in an instant, his face etched with worry. "Hey, hey," he said softly, reaching out to you. "It's okay. You're okay."

But you weren't okay. You felt like you were drowning, the weight of your grief pulling you under. You shook your head, backing away from him. "Don't touch me for fuck's sake! I don't want your dirty hands on me!”

Joel’s eyes glazed, but you didn’t care. He had become the best of the man you had married ten years ago.

Joel's eyes glazed, but you didn’t care. He had become the ghost of the man you had married ten years ago.

He froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. The cafeteria's silence deepened, the tension thickening. You saw the pain in his eyes, a reflection of your own turmoil, but it did nothing to quell the anger and sorrow boiling inside you.

"I can't do this," you said, your voice breaking as you took a step back, your chest heaving with sobs. "I can't keep pretending that everything is going to be okay. Because it's not! Nothing is okay!"

Ellie pushed through the crowd, her face pale but determined. "Mom," she said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "We're here. We're all here. We'll get through this."

Joel looked helplessly at Ellie, then back at you. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just let us help."

You looked at him, the man who had once been your rock, now just a shadow of the person you had relied on. The anger still simmered beneath the surface, but Ellie’s presence brought a flicker of something else—a reminder of why you needed to keep fighting.

Ellie wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly as you sobbed into her shoulder. The room remained silent; the weight of your grief was palpable. But in that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope—a reminder that you weren’t alone and that you had people who loved you and who were willing to help you carry the burden.

Joel stepped closer, his hand hovering uncertainly at your back, not daring to touch you without permission. "I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "For everything. I’m so, so sorry."

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "You killed him," you snapped, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I can’t forgive you.”

Joel's face crumpled, the weight of your words hitting him like a physical blow. He took a step back, his hand dropping to his side. The silence in the room grew heavier, and the tension was palpable.

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible. "I know I can never undo what I've done. I live with that guilt every day."

Your anger burned hot and fierce, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. "You killed him," you repeated, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "And you expect me to just forgive you? To move on like nothing happened?"

Joel shook his head, his eyes filled with sorrow. "No," he said softly. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even know if I can forgive myself. But I want to try. I want to make things right as much as I can."

You looked at him, the man who had once been your partner, your confidant, now a stranger in the wreckage of your shattered life. The anger still burned hot within you, but beneath it, there was a flicker of something else—pain, sorrow, and a desperate longing for the life you had lost.

"I don't know if I can do this," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't know if I have the strength to forgive you."

Ellie's arms remained wrapped around you, a comforting presence amidst the turmoil. She gently guided you away from the cafeteria, her touch reassuring as you stumbled through the hallways of Jackson. The weight of your grief felt heavier with each step, but Ellie's presence gave you a glimmer of strength.

As you reached the door, Ellie helped you inside, guiding you to the small couch in the living area. She sat beside you, her eyes filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, the tears still streaming down your face. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice hoarse. "I just... I don't know how to deal with all of this."

Ellie reached out, taking your hand in hers. "We'll figure it out together," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "I promise."

You squeezed her hand tightly, grateful for her unwavering support. "Thank you, Ellie," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

She leaned in, wrapping you in a tight hug. "I love you, Mom," she said softly. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you hugged her back, her words echoing in your mind. "I love you too, Ellie," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

As you and Ellie held each other close, the weight of her love and support was a balm to your wounded soul. But amidst the embrace, a knock on the door interrupted the moment, causing both of you to startle.

Ellie pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours with concern. "Should I... Should I get that?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

You shook your head, wiping away your tears as you tried to compose yourself. "No, it's okay," you said, your voice still shaky. "I'll go."

Ellie nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before standing up from the couch. "I'll be in my room if you need me," she said softly, giving you a lingering look before leaving the living area.

As Ellie disappeared down the hallway, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. With trembling hands, you made your way to the door and opened it, revealing Joel standing on the other side.

His expression was a mix of worry and remorse as he looked at you, his eyes filled with a silent plea for forgiveness. "Can we talk?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, the memories of your outburst in the cafeteria still fresh in your mind. But despite the anger and pain, there was a part of you that longed for closure, for a chance to understand.

"Okay," you said finally, stepping aside to let him in.

Joel entered the house, his footsteps hesitant as he crossed the threshold. The living room felt suffocatingly small as you both stood there, the weight of your shared grief hanging heavy in the air.

"I... I don't even know where to start," Joel said, his voice strained with emotion.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. "I just... I need to understand," you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I need to know why you did what you did."

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the abandoned streets of the city. You and Joel had been scavenging for supplies, your footsteps echoing in the eerie silence that seemed to permeate every corner of the world.

You had felt uneasy all day, a knot of jealousy and insecurity twisting in your stomach at the sight of Sophie, her laughter ringing in your ears like a taunt.

You had implored Joel to come. You just wanted to feel as worthy and important to him as you used to, even in your state. But despite your misgivings, you had pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand, determined to prove yourself capable and worthy of Joel's love and attention.

And then it happened.

If Joel had been more careful, he wouldn’t have allowed you to come. But he didn’t want to make you feel worthless.

A horde of infected had descended upon you, their snarls and growls a chilling symphony of death and despair. You had frozen; your mind was unable to comprehend the danger until it was too late.

But Joel had acted, his movements swift and sure as he pulled you away from the oncoming onslaught, his grip firm and unyielding.

And then he had seen her.

Sophie was trapped beneath the rubble, her screams echoing in the chaos as the infected closed in, their hunger insatiable.

And in that moment, something inside Joel shifted.

He had hesitated, torn between saving you and saving her, his eyes flickering with indecision, before he made his choice.

He had chosen Sophie.

He jumped off the horse, leaving you alone. You had watched in horror as he raced towards her, leaving you behind, your heart shattering into a million jagged pieces as the truth of his betrayal washed over you like a tidal wave.

You had screamed, your voice lost in the cacophony of the chaos, your tears mingling with the blood and dust that coated your skin.

And then the world went dark.

You fell from the horse, hitting the cobblestones hard. The pain was sharp and intense, searing through your body like a white-hot flame. You could hear the distant sound of screams and growls, the world around you spinning in a haze of confusion and agony.

Through the haze, you could dimly make out Joel's voice, calling out your name in desperation. But his words felt distant, a mere echo in the darkness that threatened to consume you.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the chaos subsided, leaving behind a heavy silence that pressed down on you like a weight. You tried to move, to call out, but your body felt numb and unresponsive. Your world went black.

"I need to know why, Joel," you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion. "Why did you choose her over us? Why did you leave me behind?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you waited for his answer, the weight of his betrayal still fresh in your mind, a wound that refused to heal.

Joel's gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his guilt. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I panicked. I made a mistake."

Anger surged within you at his words, a fiery rage that threatened to consume you. "A mistake?" you repeated, your voice rising with indignation. "You left me to die, Joel. You left our child to die. How could you call that a mistake?"

Joel flinched at your words, the pain in his eyes mirroring your own. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry. You were my wife; I should.”

"Were you my wife?” You sobbed, “Since when is that in the past, Joel?”

Joel's words hung in the air like a heavy weight, his admission of guilt and regret piercing through the veil of anger and pain that enveloped you. But amidst the turmoil, there was a flicker of something else—a longing for understanding, for closure, for a chance to heal.

"You are my wife," Joel repeated clearly, his voice trembling with emotion. "I should have protected you. I should have been there for you. But I failed. I failed both of you."

His words stirred something deep within you—a wellspring of grief and longing that threatened to overwhelm you. "And now?" you whispered, your voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "What am I to you, Joel?"

Joel looked at you, his eyes filled with sorrow. Not uttering a word.

“Do you have feelings for Sophie?” You asked, fear creeping to your bones, not wanting to hear the answer.

Joel's silence spoke volumes; his hesitation was a weighty presence in the air between you. You held your breath, afraid of what his answer might be and of the truth that lay hidden in the depths of his gaze.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Joel spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his words heavy with uncertainty. "

“You love her,” you stated. “That’s why you chose her.”

Joel's silence in response to your accusation only confirmed your worst fears, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a heavy ache in your chest. The truth hung in the air, stark and undeniable, like a shadow cast by the setting sun.

Tears stung your eyes as you struggled to process the betrayal, the pain of Joel's admission cutting through you like a knife. The realization that he might love Sophie and might have chosen her over you and your unborn child was a blow that threatened to shatter you completely.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice barely more than a broken plea. "I can't stay here, knowing... knowing that I'll never be enough for you. Living in a world like this is already hell, but you made it even worse. You made me feel disgusted by myself, worthless, and ashamed," you shouted. "You're a fucking coward."

Joel flinched at your words, the truth of your accusations cutting through him like a knife. For a moment, it seemed as though he might speak, might try to defend himself, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Hate me; I'll wait. Until you forgive," he finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to find the words to express the depth of your pain. "Forgive you?" you chuckled bitterly. "I won't."

There are two types of grievances. The one who met the spirits in death and the one who met with the ghosts of someone who should have died in front of you. You still couldn't comprehend which one was worse. Both were painful, and both watered your eyes. But having the ghost of someone who brought you warm, freezing your aura while slipping from your grasp, leaving you crying to yourself till your head tired up and there wasn't anything left that fell into the voiceless world of sleeping, where in your dreams, you were still the same woman in the white dress, marrying the love of your life.

"I needed my husband! I need him now! And the worst thing is, I still need you, but you're just a fucking phantom."

"I'm still here," he exclaimed.

"No, you're not.".

"It wasn't even born!" Joel said.

The silence met souls leaving the lovers's bodies.

You were left speechless, tears ricocheting. Your heart was clenched in pain, and your throat felt like it was being torn apart by a monster.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Save it," you spat. You were exhausted, and your heart hurt so much that you couldn't even feel it beating anymore. "Sorry if grieving my baby was such a burden to you."

As you turned back to face Joel, the weight of your words hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the gaping chasm of loss that lay between you.

"Let me remind you of something, Joel," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Losing Sarah was the worst thing that happened to us, and just imagine how it is for me to know I carried her and this baby just to lose them both."

Joel's expression softened, a flicker of remorse crossing his features as he looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. "I know," he said softly, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"I'll move out," Joel said suddenly, his voice tinged with resignation. "So you can bring your new lover here and make all the babies you want."

His words cut through you like a knife, a painful reminder of the irreparable rift that had formed between you. "You know what really broke me?" you sobbed, the words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. "You... you're the biggest loss of my life, but as much as I love you, I despise you the same. You're the loss of my life I will be yours. There's no way back from this, Joel."

As the weight of your words hung heavy in the air, you reached for the wedding band adorning your finger, a symbol of a love that had once been unbreakable but now lay shattered at your feet.

With trembling hands, you removed the ring, feeling its weight in your palm as you stared at it, the memories of happier times flashing before your eyes like a cruel mockery of the present.

Without a second thought, you flung the ring towards Joel, watching as it spun through the air before landing at his feet with a soft thud.

"There," you said, your voice choked with emotion. "Take it. Take everything that remains of us."

Joel looked down at the ring, his expression unreadable as he reached out to pick it up and his fingers trembling as he held it in his palm.

"I don't want this," he whispered, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

But you shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you stared at him, the pain of his betrayal a raw wound that refused to heal. "I don't want it either," you said, your voice barely more than a broken whisper. "But it's all we have left."

And with that, you turned away, unable to bear the weight of his presence any longer. The wounds he had inflicted upon you ran deep, a festering wound that refused to heal.

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[magpiepills]

Butterfly

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x f reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Neighbor Joel and his yoga girl neighbor have a little chat.

Warnings: SMUT! f masturbation, PIV, use of sex toys, reader can do yoga, blackmail? infidelity? Perv neighbor? Probably more. Unedited, unbeta’d, unproof-read. I type like that Kermit gif then post it.

A word from the author: idk friends. Here’s a bit more of what’s going on with pervert Joel and his yoga girl neighbor. I’m so grateful and happy that yall are enjoying this. There will be one more part!

Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist

The house had been quiet, with your husband picking up extra shifts and out of the house more, you found ways to occupy yourself. On a nice day, you decided a little yoga in the sun rather than your stuffy bedroom would be just what you needed.

You roll out your mat, open your app to follow along with a vinyasa flow, and close your eyes. You breathe deep, grounding breaths, melting into your stretches.

It felt good, made you feel relaxed and grounded and more in your body than in your head. It made you feel sexy to move your body, the ways you stretched. You promised yourself that this would be your new routine.

On the second day you felt a bit self conscious. You saw the shadowed silhouette in the upstairs window, your neighbor, a single man living alone, and apparently a fan of yoga.

You didn’t look at his window again. If it was a coincidence that he was looking out his window while you stretched and bent you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself. If he was watching you, you didn’t want to know that either. It made you feel nervous and giddy that your hot neighbor might be watching you bending over, spreading your legs, twisting yourself into suggestive poses. It didn’t stop you, though.

So what if he looked, right? You weren’t doing anything wrong, just exercising in your back yard. Nothing untoward or scandalous about that and Joel has never been anything but friendly and polite. If you got a small thrill along with your workout, all the better for everyone.

By the third day you were certain he was watching. He must have thought he was out of sight, down in the bottom corner of the window, but you spotted him, his graying curls, his dark stare that was glued to your every move. The window was empty when you walked the dog, when you got the newspaper from the porch, and when you walked to the mailbox, but as soon as you came out for yoga, there he was, like he knew your schedule and would wait for you.

You dripped into your leggings and added ten minutes to your workout. When you finished, you went inside and showered, taking the handheld shower head and directing the stream to wash over your throbbing clit, giving yourself an orgasm while you moaned his name and imagined him there with you. Your fingers couldn’t reach deep enough, didn’t stretch you the way you were certain that Joel would.

Later that night you’d tried again, pulling up porn with men like Joel; older, sturdy, deep voiced, confident. You edged yourself, pressing your vibrator against your clit, pushing just the tip into your clenching entrance the way you imagined him teasing you until you begged, then pulling away before you could reach your climax. You did it again and again, thinking of his chest and arms and the sweat that darkened his shirt when you’d see him mowing his lawn, and then crying his name into your pillow when you finally let yourself come.

It still wasn’t enough. There was no beard scratching your chest, your neck, your thighs. No hands on your hips, no lips on yours. Instead of satisfying you, it just made you needier, and that need led you to bolder and bolder deeds.

It was the dirtiest secret. Every afternoon you pretended not to see him while you positioned yourself for maximum exposure. Your ass toward his window, back arched, wiggling just so. You pushed your chest forward, nipples hard against the tight Lycra of your thin top.

You carried on, abandoning the illusion of good form to try to tease your voyeur, then went inside and imagined what he’d say when you rode him, or wondered what his shirt smelled like while you clenched around your own inadequate fingers. You considered standing outside and turning on the garden hose, putting on a little wet tshirt contest with you as the sole participant and Joel the lone audience member and judge under the very innocent and reasonable explanation that it was summer in Texas and you needed to cool off.

By day five you were masturbating before and after yoga. You were so amped up every time you spied him

In his spot you thought you might be able to come from just thinking about him. You fucked your husband before he left with your eyes shut tight so you could pretend he was your neighbor.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked, beaming at you as he lay on the bed, having just been used as an unwitting prop in your sick fantasy. Maybe you’d feel guilty later. For now, you’d just feel cum leaking out of you while you held your knees wide open on your yoga mat and imagined it was Joel’s and that he was watching it trickle from your pussy before scooping it up with two big fingers and pushing it back inside.

If you’ve gone off the deep end you don’t care. Inside of a week you’d turned from friendly neighbor with a harmless crush to shameless trollop whose only thoughts came directly from her pussy. You'd figure out the implications and consequences later.

On day six you pulled out all the stops. You moved slowly and deliberately, making up your own routine of the most suggestive poses you knew. As you modified a butterfly stretch to lift your tits, you found Joel through your eyelashes and you would swear he had licked his lips. It broke something in you.

You feigned the heat was worse than it was, made a show of modesty, checking that you were otherwise alone, and stripped down.

The sunshine and the light breeze felt so good against your bare skin. You explored your body, running your hands over your hips and thighs and belly. You were sticky with sweat, and you felt prickly with all your pent up longing.

You skated your fingertips over your stiff nipples and down to your pulsing, needy cunt. If he was going to watch, you might as well give him something to remember. Maybe he would feel even a fraction of the fiery, desperate frustration you had felt.

You didn’t have a plan. None of this was planned. You slid your middle finger over your folds and spread your wetness over your clit and around your lips, feeling it cool slightly on your skin. You were just playing there, teasing yourself without serious intention, you decided you’d just do what felt good for a while, let Joel have a good long look, then go back in.

You knew he was there. You saw his shadowed silhouette. You hoped he liked what he saw, hoped he was touching himself, hoped he was imagining you on your knees for him. You edged yourself twice, careful not to make a sound above a heavy breath. You stroked your wet pussy, blinked your eyes as you breathed deeply, staving off your release, and let your eyes find his window, empty.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you’d let your pathetic, horny housewife delusions get the better of you and maybe you’ve just humiliated yourself.

Immediately you thought of your husband, your other neighbors, your friends, the rumors that would surely spread about the whore of Rancher Street. Panic and regret gripped you so hard you could scarcely breathe.

And then you heard it.

A groan, deep and stifled from the other side of the fence.

Play it cool, you tell yourself. You wrap a handy beach towel around yourself and put on a mask of curiosity and concern when you peek over the fence and find Joel slumped in the dirt. His cheeks are flushed, his cock is out, and he looks exactly like you’ve been feeling.

“Joel, what’s going on? What happened?” You ask, wide-eyed.

He stammers and hurries to cover his body, trying to minimize his embarrassment and the evidence of what he had just done.

“It’s not- it’s not what it looks like,” he says, “I’m just, uh, I’m sorry I just…”

“Just what?” you coo and drop to your knees to peek at him through the fence, “were you watching me, Joel?” You tsk, but flutter your eyelashes, watching with bubbling delight as he flounders, shaking his head, unable to come up with an explanation for why he’s on the ground next to a wide gap in the fence slats with cum on his jeans.

“I didn’t know you were a peeping Tom, Joel.”

It angers him, you calling him a peeping Tom. He stands quickly, then, turning to hastily zip back into his jeans, before stepping close to the fence and peering down at you.

“And I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist who was going to strip naked and touch herself right out in the open where anyone could see!” His voice is deep and hushed, but with a heat that excites you.

“You’re out here every day as soon as your husband leaves just begging for attention. Don’t act innocent now that you got it.”

“Only one watching was you, Joel. You had a front row seat, didn’t you?” you look up at him sweetly, putting both palms against the fence right about where his hips are on the other side.

Joel makes a low, rumbling sound and looks down, gripping the fence tightly. If he were a younger man he’d be hard again at the sight of you on your knees in front of him, fence or not.

“What about your husband? Does Marcus know you’re out here puttin’ on shows?”

You stand slowly and lift up onto your tiptoes, holding onto the fence between Joel’s wide, rough hands, leaving just inches between your faces.

“All he knows is how much hornier I’ve been this week. I had to ride him twice this morning,” you confess, looking right into your neighbor’s dark, searching eyes.

Joel nods softly, “But ya still had to come out here and act up, huh? Ain’t gettin enough?”

You hum in agreement, “you liked watching. Saw you every day.”

Joel hums back, eyes heavy lidded and dark.

“Well, what are we going to do about this?” he asks, and you take a step away from the fence, adjusting your towel.

“I don’t know, Joel. I think we have a problem. Marcus won’t be too happy if he finds out you’ve been prowling around. All I wanted to do was a little yoga in my yard. Maybe you’d better come over and figure out how to explain this.”

You don’t wait for Joel to agree or argue before turning to go back inside, dropping the towel that covered you and folding it over your arm, hips swaying tantalizing as Joel watches you disappear in your house.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #bat writes #smut #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x neighbor #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller hole filler

[heartshapedbabydolls]

On a sheep farm with Joel 💌🌾

#i couldn’t help myself #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #vintage #aesthetic #edit #my edit #tik tok #western aesthetic #western #western movies #country life #country living #farmcore #farmer’s daughter #farmer’s daughter aesthetic #coquette aesthetic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader

[boliv-jenta]

I can't sleep at 2am. New Pedro content has dropped, you know what that means...unhinged ficlet about a new character. Not proofread.

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol and one line insinuating smut.

GN!reader x the hot beach guy.

Mr Sandman

They say sand gets everywhere. Most people know this is a well-founded saying. They've shaken sand out of their possessions long after leaving the beach. They've found it in the most unlikely of places. Like the memory of the kiss of the sun on their skin or the sea lapping at their toes, it persists. 

That doesn't explain the sand in your shoes or your purse or in your desk draw. You couldn't remember the last time you went to the beach. Yet the grains kept dusting your belongings like you'd be there yesterday. 

Standing in the shower, the sun catching on the warm cascade before it washes the sandy remnants from your body, a memory tugs at you. The warmth, the comfort. Not from the shower. Or the beach scene that flickers in your mind. No, from him.

His hand is warm against yours as your fingers interlock around the cold glass bottle. The condensation drips onto your skin sending a shiver up your spine. It's nothing compared to the shiver that ignites it when his eyes meet yours. Deep brown with a golden cast a kin to the liquid he's handing you in the sun.

The sand persists and so do the memories of forgotten dreams. Both are found scattered in the morning. Tiny particles of him slip through your fingers when you try to hold on to him. His laughter. So full of life, uninhibited and free in a way that you haven't felt in years. It shines from his eyes like the sun on the ocean. Blindingly bright but a spectacle to behold. His warmth, not just from the brief touches of his skin on yours but from his presence. The way he welcomes you, the way his smile reaches out to you before his words do. 

Like the sand, he gets everywhere. The dreams follow you throughout the day. In the office, at the store as you pick out limes, on the drive home to your empty house. His voice, somehow deep but lighter than the sea breeze. His curls, soft between your fingers. His lips, so full against yours. His broad shoulders under your palms as you hold him tight. His body moving against yours as the sun sets and he makes you see more stars than just the one spread over the night sky. 

He calls to you now, calls you home, you feel. You've always had that feeling, homesick for a place you've never been. 

The tears burn beside your eyes. Your boss doesn't deserve you. There's no way you can cope in your line of work for another couple of decades before your retirement. You drive on autopilot. The beach is a little further than you can make it to and back in a day. Work can wait. Life can give you a break. The sun is setting when you break through the treeline onto the sand. The heat from the day hasn't left it yet, it's warm under your feet. That's something you hadn't thought of in the mystery of the sand, how had it always been warm? It wraps around your toes pulling you in with each step. The ocean gives the illusion of a dual sunset as the golden circle dips below the horizon. Relaxing on the soft sand, adrenaline seems to run off you into the porous surface below. Sleep begins to tug at you. That's when he appears. He presses a cold beer to your hand and a warm kiss to your temple. All's right with the world again. You found your way home.

Tagging some folk who will remember my unhinged days: @movievillainess721 @yourcoolauntie @harriedandharassed @prolix-yuy @missredherring

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #corona ad #gn reader

[popcornforone]

Bea-ch Day

A Frankie Morales Fan Fic

Ever the person to get completely side tracked from what I should be writing, when new content drops. We finally got the Corona adverts (other beers are available obviously) but the character has no name. However in this mini advert, he looked so Frankie (the main one is a mix of Javi G & Tim {I’ve almost combusted}) but I automatically had the perfect idea for a short sweet fic. So happy Frankie Friday peoples.

Synopsis:- You & Frnakie has a beach day & a cook out with your friends & family.

Word count:-1860

Warnings:- alcohol, mild swearing & innuendo & things being mentioned not appropriate for kids ears, pregnancy & mentions of sex but none actually happening. See it’s just fluffy & sweet this.

Thanks for the read peoples. I hope you all enjoy this.

“Mama mama” you hear echo down the beach. You had just topped up your sun screen on your arms when you heard the noise.

“What is it bumble bee?” You reply putting on your over the top beach hat which is so big. Your 4 year old comes bouncing up the beach & is pulling at your long floaty sundress that is covered in sunflowers. She’s in a yellow bathing suit. Her hair as thick & brown as her dad’s. She got your eyes though which your husband is very happy about.

“Look what I found” in her clammy little hand is a seashell, so you drop down to her level, your back aches straight away.

“Wow” you say enthusiastically & hold it. “This is a seashell, but it’s a special one”

“Is it?” Your daughter jumps about excitedly. Her hands trying to clap her hands. “Why?”

“Well if you close your eyes & are quiet when you put this next to your ear you can hear the sea & if it whistles you can make a wish.” You say with your eyes beaming back at her.

“A wishing shell, like a wishing well cool” she grabs it back out of your hand & then runs a few yards further along the beach. “Look daddy , look daddy look, it’s a wishing shell” her daddy, your husband, is wearing a dark blue beach shirt with a white kind of floral pattern on, he’s got stone coloured shorts on & his sunnys are in his hair, as he tends to the cooking the barbecue with a friend.

“A wishing shell” strong arms lift your daughter up into the air & spin her around as she giggles. “Ahhh I’ve heard of those, be sure to listen to a whistle” his princess comes first even before any food preparations, & more importantly to you any missions.

“I’m keeping it daddy”

“Yes you are Bea & we can put it on your bedroom shelf until your wish comes true” he puts her down on the ground giving her a big sloppy kiss.

“Will you make sandcastles with me daddy?”

“After lunch bumble bee, go get Marc & Jo, tell them to come out of the sea” your 4 year old is so worldly wise. Beatrice (Bea for short) has been brought up by the two of you to understand the world is a big bright but also bemusing place. She’s 4 going on 24 for sure.

You watch her run off to go get the two boys both older than her & you slowly walk over to your husband & get a nice cold cola out of the ice box. You rest your head on his shoulders.

“Was worried for a millisecond that you weren’t going to play along Frankie” you whisper in his ear & hand him a cold corona that you also got out of the ice box.

“I’d never break her heart, we just need to know what she wishes for”

“True” you softly kiss the side of his face & ruffles that hair. It’s going a bit crazy today. Unkept but you like it like that.

“What if she wishes for a brother or sister & it’s not the right gender?” Frankie questions as he turned to you, his hand glides over your dress. your 7 month baby bump showing. It’s taken a while for you to conceive your second, you’d given up trying after 2 years but then you got lucky. This September Baby will be loved & cherished just like you both will do anything for Bea. You were told you could find out the gender but much like with your daughter you both decided not to.

“Well maybe we could work on getting her another one” you say. A twinkle in your eye matches Frankie’s smirk.

“This squishy was hard enough to get beautiful, but I’d be more than up for trying again”

“Of course he would” Pope shouts as he & his two step boys & your daughter walk up nearer the beach to you. Everyone’s here for the annual group cook out you have every year. Frankie, Bea & you & the dog Mylo moved to the sandy beaches & keys of Florida 2 years ago, & this cook out that you do has finally come to it being your turn so that Frankie can have all his guys back together & they can remember their late captain. You’ve still never asked about that mission, you just are there to rub Frankie’s back at 3am sometimes when he has nightmares from it. It’s not so regular anymore but you can still sense his sorrow every now & then.

“Pope” he shouts back sarcastically & Bea comes & grabs you.

“What just saying, when you guys used to stay at ours we could hear the bed creek from our room”

“Pope there’s kids here” you say. almost all the guys have had their own kids or met women with kids already that there’s now a lot of you at this cook out.

“Thought you said they need to be worldly wise” Pope says.

“He has a point” you playfully hit Frankie & then so does Bea. “Hey” she giggles & then kisses your cheek.

“Bea only mama is allowed to hit daddy okay”

“I’ll bet” says pope. You roll your eyes as Frankie giggles.

“Come on Bea let’s get you some food.” You lift her up & take her to her seat at the table & bring across her favourite Crisps & a hot dog.

The whole afternoon is brilliant. Everyone catches up & has fun & played with everyone’s kids. It’s like you all just saw each other yesterday. You sit on the sand, with Bea building a sandcastle, she starts to rub her eyes feeling a little tired. She’s been running about all day with her friends trying to keep the pace with kids running in & out of the crystal clear sea who are twice her age.

“No don’t rub your eyes bumble bee, you’ll get sand in them” you say as Frankie comes to look at what you’re doing.

“Wow you built that with mama Bea”

“Yea daddy look” she points & Frankie sits next to her.

“Ahh you’ve still got one more bucket to go though” he says seeing one upside down. He picks up the child spade. “Ready for the magic tap?” Bea claps excitedly.

“Okay”

“Good, mama can count as well”

“1, 2, 3” the three of you say in unison as Frankie taps the bucket & then pulls it off the sand to show the completed sand castle.

“Wow” say Bea. Then Frankie grabs her & picks her up.

“Come on bumble bee let’s fly you too the sea to get some water to fill up the moat”

“Weeeeeeee tooo the seaaaaa” she screams with laughter as Frankie makes her fly like a bird under his arm & they both laugh. You sit there on the sand looking at your world, running down the beach having just such a fun & simple time. Not a care in the world. The sun is out but it’s not to hot & you’ve just been you all day. Amongst friends & very happy just chilling watching everyone you love get along. You rub your bump & whisper to it.

“This is your world my squishy, your mama, daddy & Bea can’t wait to meet you” it then kicks back at you & you beam. If anyone sees your eyes filling up you can say it’s from the lowering sun but it’s actually just your emotions at how perfect your life finally is & how good today has been.

Bea is tucked up in bed as Frankie kisses her head.

“You gonna fall to sleep” he says as he hands her, her favourite cuddly toy to sleep with.

“Yes daddy me & bob are going to dream” Bob is ugly bumblebee toy that one of your work friends got you when you had the baby, but it means the world to your own little Bea. No matter how hideous it is now.

“You’re going to dream” you say as you tuck her hair behind her ear. “Dream of what”

“A castle made of hot dogs” she reply’s which makes Frankie laughs. You softly smile.

“Wow now that would be a dream”

“With a massive boat”

“She means moat” Frankie whispers.

“Wow thats would be amazing.”

“Do you dream mama” Bea asks as you sit in the end of the bed.

“Every night”

“what of”

“Oooh we’d be here far too long Bea & you have had a long tiring day”

“But mama”

“No Bea your mums right” Frankie says as he lays his head next to her. “You need your sleep otherwise there won’t be any dreams.” Frankie is secretly glad Bea didn’t ask him about this own dreams. He never wants her to have nightmares he’s so protective of her.

“Will my wish still come true?” She asks. You & Frankie look at each other. You’d both forgotten about the shell. You see it on her bed side table & pick it up, listening carefully. Bea giggles.

“It’s still whistling” Frankie nods approvingly. “It’s working on that wish what was it Bea” you say. Both you & Frnakie waiting with bated breath.

“For what uncle Pope said to come true”

You & Frankie look bemused at each other.

“Okay so what did uncle Pope say”

“For daddy & mummy to be happy & scream in delight” Bea yawns, grabbing her toy. Both you & Frankie have turned red.

“Oooh I’m sure that will happen Bea” you say & kiss her forehead, her eyes closing as she loses her battle to stay awake. Frankie properly tucks her in & then sits with her for a few more minutes, to make sure she’s completely asleep. You don’t Hoover to far from the door way. You like watching Frnakie be soft. You might have fallen for the hardened army pilot with a drug problem, but what you really got was a soft teddy bear who wanted it be loved, & give all that love back. As you sigh standing in the door frame Frankie turns to face you. He slowly stands up & kisses Bea once more, before he slowly makes his way to you. She’s sound asleep probably already dreaming.

His lips meet yours once he’s there. Your hands delve into that crazy mop of hair, your heart racing, every nerve shreded. This is the man you love, your husband, father to your babies.

“So” Frankie says. “Do I go hit Pope for insinuating stuff to our little girl that she can’t understand, or do I thank him” he says as he moves your own hair off your face.

“Hit him & thank him, but do it tomorrow” you say & you grab Frankie’s hand & lead him to your bedroom.

“Yes mama” he says as he smacks your bum following your lead to make sure that your little Beas wish really did come true, even though she’d never be able to see it.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #over18 #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal universe #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal fic #frankie catfish morales fan fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fic

[wannab-urs]

Outtakes - Sex Work

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Here's a list of fics I've read where either the reader or the pedro boy or both are sex workers. We are pro sex work in this house!

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

updated 5/24/2024

Pedro Boy is the sex worker

Sex Worker!Frankie AU

Frankie series by @prolix-yuy

You’d never thought you’d be sitting on a hotel room bed, phone to your ear as you waited for someone on the other end to pick up. After a messy divorce you wanted something to ease the pain of loneliness. That something just happens to be the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, even if you had to pay for him.

Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (F receiving), like super descriptive oral (there might be over 2500 words dedicated to Frankie’s talents), female masturbation, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a touch of Feral Frankie, one ass slap, fingers in mouths, some angst and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.

"Din"scord Kitten

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

When bounty hunting doesn’t work out anymore Din has to turn to alternative methods to support himself.

this is a crack fic lmao, Discord/Venmo/Dr. Pepper existing in Star Wars, bad sexting, dick pics, masturbating, bad Star Wars puns, sex work, cummies needs its own warning 😭, pet names (cyar’ika), oral sex (M receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n

The Sweepstakes

Various Pedro Boys series @katareyoudrilling

A collection of standalone one-shots featuring various Pedro boys. A popular porn site runs a contest for viewers to win a night with their favorite porn star.

Unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), kink negotiation, some choking and breath play

Fluffer

Dieter one shot by @proxima-writes

fluffer - noun - someone on a pornographic film set that keeps a male performer’s penis erect in between scenes. You’re a production assistant on the set of an adult film starring Dieter Bravo, who mistakes you for his fluffer.

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), porn star AU, dub con - mistaken identity, oral sex - female receiving, face sitting, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, squirting.

Extra Whipped Cream

Dieter one shot by @pettyprocrastination

A pornstar walks into a coffee shop. Havoc ensues.

curses, past description of smut, talking about porn

Good Taste

Din series by @charnelhouse

He wonders if it’s in bad taste to fuck a PA at the annual holiday party.

question of power since reader is a PA. Mention of drugs. Smut. Age Gap.

Reader is the sex worker

Bouquet (+ Bloom and Blossom)

Dieter series by @mypoisonedvine

Quarantined in his hotel room has dieter getting a little stir crazy. When the drugs run out, he has to find a new vice—that's how he found you.

Smut, video chat sex, sex toys, masturbation (male and female), sex work, camgirl!reader, housewife kink, breeding kink, PWP, feelings, unprotected penetrative vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, mention of the COVID-19 pandemic, fluff, soft!Dieter

Defanged

Din one shot by @concussed-to-pieces

Din gets accidentally dosed with a sex pollen drug and comes to your establishment for help. Then he fucks you all night :)

Sex Pollen, sex work, sex worker!reader, accidental dosing (mando), blindfolded reader, tit fucking, nipple play, oral m receiving, soft!mando, the helmet comes off, soft dom!mando, consensually drugged reader, oral f receiving, unprotected PIV, fingering f receiving, dirty talk, consent king!mando, uhhh sexy massage?, mild sir kink, intercrural sex, dub con due to sex pollen

Bunny

Javi P series by @whatsnewalycat

Javi is your client and you're a phone sex operator / It didn't take you long to figure out that your new co-worker, Javier Peña, is a former client from your days working a phone sex line. But does he know who you are?

Phone sex, masturbation, aliens, professor javi, former phone sex operator reader, professor reader, co-workers, seduction, yearning, dirty talk, smut, smoking, swearing, drinking, sex worker!reader

Only Angel

Javi P series by @tieronecrush

After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish

Ravish

Joel series by @psychedelic-ink

Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

cam girl!reader, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, Alternate Universe - No Outbreak, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Spanking, Sex Toys, paddles, Nipple Play, Nipple Clamps, Dirty Talk, joel is bi in this, POV Alternating, Mutual Masturbation, Masturbation, possesive!joel, Come Eating, Oral Sex, Size Kink, pillow humping, Live Stream Sex, Webcam Sex, good girl/sir, Light BDSM, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous!Joe, Titjob, Squirting

Go ahead and cry little girl

Jack Daniels one shot by @xdaddysprincessxx

Daddy issues with Agent Whiskey

Daddy issues!!, character death mentioned, daddy kink, piv (again wrap it up guys!), f & m oral, dacryphillia, 1 use of song lyrics, dirty talk (it’s jack mf Daniels what did you expect?) boss/employee dynamics, sex work (we support sex workers in this household!) squirting, voyeurism, cum eating, Reader is described as having hair, a vagina, well hydrated (; and can blush. daddy kink

Carnal

Joel series by @pascalsbby

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another, and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth. When he turned from the nude woman painted on the wall, a version of you in oil, to the warm, guts and roaring blood of you- the gash completely tore itself open in the moments it took for his eyes to eat you in. Every nerve ending in his forty-plus years heeding, 7 trillion of them.

SMUT, age gap (24/50s), best friends dad, dad’s best friend, stalking, conversation around trauma (not graphic or specified as SA), sex work, dark, overall pervy Joel & pure filth + more.

A Good Friend to Have

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

You and your friend work at a brothel on Coruscant, while work is slow she reveals that she owes a debt to a loan shark who is willing to pay out a bounty to anyone who brings her in. When a Mandalorian shows up at the brothel you do everything you can think of to distract the bounty hunter and buy her time to escape.

Smut, canon divergence, sex work, edging, orgasm denial, Dom/sub dynamic, masturbation, penetrative vaginal sex, helmet stays on, helmet riding

The Princess and the Duke

Dave York series by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Your hot stepdad Dave York catches you creating OnlyFans content.

Smut, daddy kink, sex work, infidelity, stepcest, possessive!Dave, sexism, choking, degradation, rough sex, oral sex (male receiving), exhibitionism, alternating point of view

Whatta Man

Marcus Pike series by @atinylittlepain

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

To sell your love for peace

Javi P series by @brandyllyn

You are Javier’s newest informant. You’re not his usual type but he’s willing to make an exception. More than one.

smut, sex work, canon typical violence, javi being a moron

some good friend

Tim Rockford one shot by @covetyou

Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it. And it made him nervous.

pegging, anal fingering, praise kink, mild glove kink, very mild feminization, masturbation, Tim has body image issues and a bit of an identity crisis, kind of coming untouched, sex work, comfort

Fare Well

Dieter one shot by @nerdieforpedro

Dieter has been working so hard. He still has an issue that might be because of his mind. What can he do about it? Do anything else.

unhealthy coping, sexual dysfunction, sex work, teasing, pet names, sexual activity (actual and implied I think? I should know. 🙃)

I don't mind bleeding

Din one shot by @quicksilvermad

You and the Mandalorian have a mutually beneficial relationship—he pays your rent and you feed him when he needs fresh blood.

vampire!Din, blood, PIV sex, biting, sex work, second person POV, AFAB Reader, one instance of "good girl", aftercare

Spent

Din one shot @joelscruff

you're a prostitute and din pays you for your services.

prostitution, dirty talk, creampie, slight degradation, helmet stays on

What happens on coruscant, stays on coruscant

Din/Poe/Cassian series by @beskarandblasters

Three men stroll into a brothel on Coruscant one night looking for their own individual services. But when you’re the only worker available that evening you decide you want to take on all of them at the same time. What started out as a professional relationship crosses the line into personal quickly leading to conflict between friends, betrayal and a choice you have to make.

reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, Poe, Cassian and the reader do not know Din’s name, sex work, reader has an alias she uses at the brothel (Nova), foursome/group sex, blowjob, handjob (but not to completion), nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, no use of y/n

They're both sex workers

Morning (+ Afternoon and Evening)

Dieter series by @write-and-buried

They gave you your choice of talent. How could you pick anyone else?

brief mention of pandemic, professional sex work, fingering, orgasm delay, dirty talk (like... woah dirty), size kink, praise kink, hand kink, orgasm delay, pussy slapping, its also a little strangely soft, squirting, rimming, throatfucking, PinV sex, premature ejaculation, facial, creampie,

I know it when I see it

Joel series by @bageldaddy

it's the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name texas.

sex work, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, it’s literally porn, age gap (unspecified), oral sex, dirty talk, explicit p in v sex, praise, catholic guilt, cowboy puns, mild angst, masturbation, more terrible porn puns, sex with other unnamed characters, mutual pining, coercive sexual encounters, references to sexual violence, discussions of advocacy and autonomy, drug use, premature ejaculation, come eating/felching, fingering, squirting, dirty bar sex, public sex, a lot of feelings, more feelings than porn, angst

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #the spreadsheet outtakes #outtakes

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling. 

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 

Liam folds. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 

“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 

And it seemed like you were no exception. 

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 

“God, yes.” 

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 

You sink to your knees immediately after that. 

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 

“Is this pussy mine?” 

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 

“I think he left, sweetheart.” 

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Walkway

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.) Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s. Words: 4,300 A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.

Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.

***

“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.   

“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”

“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”

“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”

“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”

The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.

“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up. 

“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back. 

“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.

It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt. 

You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up. 

“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.

“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.

“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.

“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.” 

You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain. 

——

It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman. 

“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you. 

“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg. 

“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours. 

“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”

“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is. 

Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you. 

“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.

“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.

“Another finger,” you shudder out. “Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder. 

Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.

“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.

He removes his hand from between your legs bringing it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.

Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”

——

Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement. 

He throws open the gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up the walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks the doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out. 

“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off. 

You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy. 

“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked. 

What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf. 

You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet. 

“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.

The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin. 

“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.” 

You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen. 

You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear. 

“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.” 

You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver. 

“Okay baby?”

“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.

“Whaddo you need sweetheart?” 

“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”

“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.

“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.

“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.

“Please,” you implore, sobbing out. 

“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”

This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.

You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey. 

He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner. 

“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you. 

“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.

Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire. 

Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.” 

You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.

“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?” 

“Pleeeease,” you keen out. 

“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.” 

You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you. 

“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”

And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm. 

“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out. 

He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”

You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him. 

“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.

“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?” 

Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.

“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”   

“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken. 

“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”

That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know. 

“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you. 

“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout. 

“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.

You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel. 

“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love. 

You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off. 

A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep. 

——

“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you. 

“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn. 

“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”

A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal

[beskarandblasters]

Does Your Mother Know?

No Outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Does Your Mother Know by ABBA + part of @freelancearsonist’s ABBA Drabble Challenge!

Summary: Joel finds a pretty young thing on the beach to spend some time with on his vacation.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader wears a bikini & a dress, no outbreak AU, ambiguous beach location, both reader and Joel consume alcohol, age gap (20 years), oral sex (F and M receiving), semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is on birth control, pet names (sweetheart, baby), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

He watches you walk out of the ocean, the sun hitting the droplets of water rolling off her skin. Your bikini, a tad too small, emphasizes your breasts. He’s staring at you, eyes squinting from the sun. And that’s when he realizes he’s not wearing his sunglasses. 

Fuck. You caught him staring. 

Your lips curve into a smile. You place a hand on your hip, fingers toying with the strings on your bikini bottom.

And now you’re coming over to him, bounding through the sand and hips swaying as you walk. He scrambles for his sunglasses. He wants to ogle you in peace. But he can’t find them. 

God damn it.

“Hi,” you say, standing in front of his beach chair. Your voice is syrupy sweet and he knows he’s done for.

“Hey there,” he says, looking up at you. His eyes immediately gravitate to your breasts. 

“Who are you here with?” you ask, jumping straight to the point.

“My brother.”

“And where is he?” 

“Went off with a girl he met last night,” he says, finally finding his sunglasses. 

“Maybe you should do the same.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, sliding the sunglasses on and looking at you again, “What about you? Who are you here with?”

“Family reunion,” you say. He subconsciously lets out a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry I’m not here with a boy,” you add, playfully rolling your eyes.

“What? Oh no I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you’re about,” you say, kneeling beside his chair and placing an arm on his bicep, “I caught the way you were ogling me just now.”

He stutters briefly before spitting out a measly, “I was not.”

“Don’t even try that shit with me,” you giggle, “I saw you.”

He chuckles, glancing at your hand on his bicep, and says, “Sweetheart, I just have to ask… How old are you?” 

“Old enough.”

He cocks his head to the side and smirks. “You’re cute but I need a number.”

“Twenty-five. I’m in grad school. What about you?”

“Forty-five. That a problem for you?”

“Nope,” you smile. 

-

You make plans that night to go to the resort’s beachfront bar at eight. He goes back to his room after parting ways with you, showering, and making sure to get all of the sand off. The whole time he thinks of you in that damn bikini. He wonders what you’re going to wear tonight. Surely something that will drive him insane. 

Before you separated you exchanged names. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel!” you said before turning and walking back to your room, your hips swaying again as you walk. 

That’s his kryptonite, you saying his name. Joel never knew his name could sound so good. 

-

He waits at the bar for you, wearing a button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. He’s got that post-ocean smell about him, the saltwater making his curls extra fluffy. You’re a little late, only about five minutes or so. And for a split second, he wonders if you stood him up. 

But his heart just about stops when he sees you. 

A fucking knockout you are. Blue and white lace dress, sandals on your feet. Your skin is shiny, especially under the disco ball hanging above. How is it that this pretty young thing wants anything to do with him? 

“Hi, Joel,” you say, placing your hand on his arm again. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he says, his jaw on the floor. He can’t hide his desire for you. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he continues, eyeing you up and down. 

“Thanks!” you giggle, giving him a twirl, “Sorry I was running late. Had to make up a lie about where I was going tonight.” 

“Oh?” he says, grabbing your waist and pulling you close, “Where are you supposed to be tonight, naughty girl?” 

“Shuffleboard,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“You blew off shuffleboard with your family to hang out with me?” 

You lean in close and whisper, “Can you blame me?” Your breath tickles the shell of his ear. Just like that, he’s putty in your hands. 

“N-No,” he says, with a shiver down his spine, “Drinks?” he says, turning and looking at you. 

“Sex on the beach,” you tell him.

You grab a table while he orders your drinks. He comes back with a Miller Lite for himself and your cocktail. But after a few sips, one of your favorite songs comes on; Dancing Queen by ABBA. 

“Let’s dance!” you say, jumping up from your seat and holding out your hand. 

“I don’t dance,” he chuckles. 

“I’m not taking no for an answer!” you say, pulling him towards the dance floor. 

You dance with him, bodies pressed together and laughing the night away. He thinks about your family, your mother… and what they would do if they saw you with an older man. He wonders what Tommy would think of him if he saw him with such a younger woman. 

But then he looks at you, how you smile at him with the disco ball above shimmering your features. He can see in your eyes that your feelings are big, your lust for him so prevalent. He should be taking it slow. But he can’t. Not when you give him that look, not when you flash your dazzling smile at him. 

Suddenly the crowded dance floor is too much for him and he wants you all to himself. After a few songs, he grabs your hand and leads you back to your table. You’re laughing with each other, giddy and over the moon. How he wishes this night would never end. 

“You’re not a bad dancer!” you say, semi-shouting over the music and downing the rest of your drink. 

“You’re a natural,” he says, finishing his beer. 

As if you’re reading his mind, you lean in close and whisper in his ear again, “What do you say we get another round and get out of here?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, eagerly standing up and heading back to the bar. You giggle as you watch him, stumbling a bit as he orders your second round and closes out the tab. 

He comes back with the drinks and hands you yours, interlocking his hand with his. 

“My room?” he asks, “I assume we can’t go to yours.”

You lean in and finally kiss him, whispering against his lips, “What about the beach?” 

You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? 

“Yes,” he says a little too quickly, pulling another laugh out of you. 

You walk hand in hand down the beach. You’re a little tipsy, the sway of your hips a little messier than before. For once, Joel is thankful Tommy dragged him on this trip. 

You lead him all the way to the private cabanas on the beach, only guarded by a rope. There’s no one else around. Sex on the beach under the moonlight— this trip can’t get any better. 

“You’re sure about this? Like you’re not worried about getting caught?” he asks, lifting the rope for you. 

“We’d be giving them quite the show,” you shrug. 

God, you drive him wild. 

You set your drinks down on the side table by one of the cabanas, lying down on the padded furniture. You kick off your sandals and Joel watches as you sprawl out, the skirt of your dress riding up a bit. His cock twitches in his shorts. A bit of your cleavage peeks out from the neckline. He needs you now. 

“What are you waiting for?” you ask with a smirk. 

“Just taking the view in,” he says, mirroring your grin. 

But he can’t anymore now. He needs to taste you. He needs to make you shiver. 

He gets down in between your legs and pulls your dress a bit more. And that’s when he notices you’re not wearing any panties. 

“No panties? Naughty girl.” 

“You couldn’t tell I’m a naughty girl by where we are right now?” you laugh. 

But your laugh is cut off by a slow lick up your cunt. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you against his face. He devours you, nose rubbing against your clit and tongue circling your entrance. The soft breeze from the sea tousles his curls and you moan under the night sky, back arching up and thighs trembling already. 

In no time you cum against his face, whimpering thanks to his skilled tongue and his perfect nose against your clit. He stays between your thighs for a moment after you’re done coming, lapping up your release. Your skin is tingling, cheeks hot from the intense orgasm you had but also the adrenaline. He pokes his head up and you catch a glimpse of his wet facial hair under the moonlight. 

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he says, going back in for another taste.

Another shiver runs down your spine. 

Once he’s satisfied he lies next to you. Once you’ve caught your breath you waste no time getting up and straddling him now. 

“Your turn,” you say, inching down his legs and pulling his cock out of his shorts. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined; long, thick, and uncut. 

“You sure?” he asks, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“Mhm,” you say, swirling your tongue around the tip, “Only been thinking about this all day.”

“Fuck,” he moans. You maintain eye contact with him the whole time, sucking him off like such a good girl. He thinks about what you just said. 

Only been thinking about this all day. 

How did he get so lucky? 

Your hand wraps around the base, stroking the part your mouth can’t fit. A mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva rubs down his shaft. He tries to burn this picture-perfect moment in his mind forever; you suck him off under the nighttime sky with the beach behind you. You suck in your cheeks and suck him off harder, moaning when more pre-cum leaks out of his tip. If he’s not careful he’ll bust right here right now. But he wants to cum inside you if you’ll let him. 

Just when he’s teetering on the edge of orgasm he stops you, hand caressing your cheek. 

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he says. You take him out of your mouth and swipe the wetness off your chin. 

“Are you ready?” you ask. 

“Baby, I fuckin’ need you,” he says. 

Hastily you straddle his cock again, sopping wet cunt hovering over him. The head teases your entrance and you just can’t take it anymore. You sink down onto his cock in one swift motion, hands resting on his chest. You both sigh at the feeling; his cock enveloped by your warmth and you feeling full. 

You rock your hips back and forth and his hands hold your waist. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”

“Y-Yeah?” you ask, voice high pitched from your arousal. You lean forward, face inches from his, and ask, “Be honest, you were thinking about this when you saw me get out of the water earlier, weren’t you?”

“Maybe.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“It didn’t happen exactly like this in my head.” 

“No? What was your little fantasy?” you ask, rocking your hips harder. 

“Fuck… Right there on the beach.” 

“In front of everyone?! Naughty boy you are, Joel,” you say, kissing him. He sneaks a nip at your lip, hands migrating from your waist up to your breasts. He was thinking about these all day, watching the way they sit so pretty in your ill-fitting bikini top. 

You move your hips like a goddamn angel. And his cock fits inside you perfectly, hitting the most sensitive spots inside you. If you keep moving like this he’s going to cum soon. 

You don’t stop. You only pick up the pace, sitting up and placing your hands on his chest again. 

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum if you’re not careful.”

“So?” 

“I can?!” 

“I’m on the pill,” you smirk, leaning in for one final kiss. You cum together in a harmonious symphony, his cock pulsing his cum inside you. You both moan into the kiss, riding out your highs with the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. This is heaven. 

Eventually, your hips slow to a stop and you pull yourself off of him, lying beside him with his cum running down your thigh. He pulls you close, right into his chest. You smell his cologne and press a few sloppy kisses to his neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, rubbing your back. 

“So are you,” you giggle. 

You spend a while talking and getting to know each other after the mind-blowing sex you just had. But between all the energy you just exerted and the alcohol, you’re tired, drifting off to sleep in his arms. 

Before you completely fall asleep he asks, “When do you leave?”

“Sunday,” you yawn. 

Three days left together. 

He knows you can’t spend the night here but for now, he’ll let you take a little nap. He wants to spend as much time as he can with you before you return to your family. His pretty young thing for the remainder of his trip. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🩵

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #no outbreak!joel miller

[stylesispunk]

'I love you, it's ruining my life'

Joel Miller x f! Reader

part ii

Summary: You get to spend your last night with Joel before he gets married to another woman.

w.c: 4k>

warning: angst, mentions of cheating. No proofreading, messy writing (possibly).

a/n: Well, hello. I wrote this because I had this idea in my head for a few days but now I don't feel like I completely wrote what I wanted. Nevertheless, here is it. Sorry if this is not my best work, but I wrote it in a rush and a part 2 could be possible. There's another fic I'm working on so I hope that's better than this one. Happy reading and I hope to have time soon to be back to writing 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Everyone around you could see it. The dilated pupils, the starry-eyed gaze, and the wide smile when you were with Joel. Everyone could see it, but Joel. You could also feel it, but it was forbidden. Being high over heels for your friend was almost a felony. Joel was your best friend, and he was getting married to another woman.

Your paths crossed the day you moved into your new house. The one next to his. You had gotten a glimpse of him a few times during your first days there. His messy hair and the crease between his eyebrows made him look in distress, running back and forth all the time, which made you want to know about him. A few days later, you learned from a neighbor that Joel was recently widowed with a small baby girl named Sarah, who had become his whole world. And you had gotten to meet him one day when he knocked at your doorstep, disheveled and with puffy eyes, carrying a crying baby girl tightly against his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world, which, to him, she undoubtedly was.

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice as you noticed the tear tracks on his cheeks.

Joel looked up, startled by the sound of your voice. His tired eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability before he composed himself. "Yeah, sorry, it's been a rough night. Sarah's been fussy, and I just..." His voice trailed off, and he glanced down at his daughter, then took a look at your clothes. You were wearing a strapless black dress, and when he glanced up at you, he almost got his air cut by your gorgeous face.

You were clearly getting ready to go out; after all, you were a young woman living next to his, and as far as he could tell, you were single.

“I’m sorry, you... You are leaving. I don’t know why I came here,” he said.

Without hesitation and ignoring Joel’s words, you reached out and gently rubbed the baby’s back, trying to soothe her. "Would you like to come in?" you offered, gesturing to the warmth and comfort of your home.

Joel hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, before he nodded gratefully. Stepping inside, he seemed to relax slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sank into the nearest chair. You followed suit, sitting across from him and offering a sympathetic smile.

“I just came back home,” you said.

“What?” He asked dumbfoundedly.

“You said I was leaving. I’m not.” You smiled again, trying to contain the tinkle in your naked arms as you looked at the man in front of you.

"Oh,” he replied. "Oh," Joel repeated, his voice tinged with surprise as he processed your words. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze flickering between you and Sarah, who had quieted down in your presence.

After a moment of silence, Joel cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. "I, um, actually came here because... I need some help," he admitted quietly, his eyes avoiding yours.

You nodded, understanding dawning as you realized the weight of responsibility that Joel carried as a single parent. "Of course," you said softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'd be happy to help however I can."

Joel let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief washing over his tired features. "Thank you," he murmured, his gratitude evident in his voice. "I just... I don't know what I'm doing half the time, and Sarah... she deserves better."

Sarah.

You had learned the baby’s name was Sarah.

“My wife died during labor,” he confessed.

As Joel's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Sarah's breathing. Your heart ached for him, knowing the pain he must have endured losing his wife, especially under such tragic circumstances.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "I can't even imagine what you've been through."

Joel nodded, his expression haunted as he stared off into the distance. "It's been... it's been the hardest thing I've ever had to face," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "But Sarah... she's been my anchor. My reason to keep going." He paused for a moment. “That’s why I’m asking you if you can help me take care of her just for tonight. I just have this thing with my brother, and I found out you’re a teacher, so I suppose you’re good with kids.”

“Wait…how… How do you know I’m a teacher?”

Joel blinked, caught off guard by your question. He hesitated for a moment before his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, uh, well... I may have asked around the neighborhood," he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his response, finding his awkwardness endearing. "I see," you said with a playful smile. "Well, you're right. I am a teacher. And I'd be more than happy to help take care of Sarah tonight."

Relief washed over Joel's features, and he let out a sigh of gratitude. "Thank you, really. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important," he said earnestly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of appreciation and vulnerability.

You nodded, understanding his need for support and reassurance, especially during such a challenging time. "Don't worry about it," you said softly, offering him a reassuring smile. "Sarah will be in good hands with me."

With that settled, Joel visibly relaxed, his shoulders sagging with relief. "Thank you," he repeated, his voice filled with gratitude. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Since that day, you and Joel have become thick as thieves, and consequently, you have become Sarah’s best friend. The three of you became inseparable, sharing laughter and tears as you were there for each other through the ups and downs of life. Whether it was late-night diaper changes or spontaneous dance parties in the living room, you cherished every moment spent with both of them.

As Sarah grew older, she became not only Joel's whole world but yours as well. You watched with pride as she took her first steps, spoke her first words, and grew into a bright, curious toddler. And through it all, you were there by her side, offering guidance, love, and endless patience.

But amidst the joy and laughter, there was a bittersweet longing lingering in the air—a longing for something more, something you knew could never be. You buried your feelings deep within your heart, knowing that to act on them would only bring pain and heartache to those you loved most.

Of course you had dated; you went on dates, but they never worked out. No one was Joel, so you kept burying your love for him. You caught yourself in a complex web of emotion with that lingering ache for something more. What could have happened if you had talked before? But as much as you tried to bury your feelings for Joel, they remained a constant presence, a silent companion that followed you wherever you went.

And now, watching as Joel prepared for his upcoming wedding, the realization of his happiness with another woman cutting through you like a knife. Each detail of the ceremony seemed to magnify the distance between you, reminding you of the forbidden nature of your feelings.

Tess was a lovely woman, yet she didn’t completely like the idea that you and her soon-to-be husband were so close. Perhaps she sensed the depth of your connection with Joel, or maybe she simply felt threatened by the strong relationship you had forged with him and his daughter.

You tried your best to reassure Tess, to show her that your intentions were pure—that you were simply there to support Joel and Sarah in any way you could. But despite your efforts, there remained an underlying tension between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface.

However, you knew that after the wedding, you and Joel would grow apart, and you already had a plan to bear with the solace that would cause you.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me tonight." Joel gushed, bringing his wine glass to his lips. “It feels like when Sarah fell asleep and stayed late talking.”

You nodded, plastering a smile on your face. It had taken a lot of work to become this good at faking it. You had conditioned yourself to smile at Joel and respond to his questions with excitement, as your insides felt like they were tearing apart from the thought of these being the last hours of Joel being single. But you didn’t have a choice.

Almost eight years of friendship had taken a toll on you. That was a lot of time to reconsider your feelings and come back with a new perspective, but you were just burying your feelings as you always do. You didn’t want to ruin Joel’s chance of happiness, and as soon as tomorrow arrived, you would play your role and then be out of his life.

“Are you excited?” Joel asked you.

“For you?” you asked, bringing your wine glass to your lips. “Of course,” you plastered your best smile at him, even though it didn’t reach your eyes.

Joel smiled back at you, tossing himself on the sofa, his hand over his chest as he breathed in and out rhythmically, watching as you stared at your glass of wine with a lost gaze.

“What do you want to do?” He asked, only watching you shrug.

“Don’t know.” You mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Joel only hummed in response, looking around his living room before his eyes settled on the record player across the room, his eyes widening in excitement.

“Hun.”

“Don’t call me that.” You mumbled, directing your gaze at him. You were just waiting to drift off to sleep.

“Do you remember our parties?”

Your eyes opened to look at Joel trying to piece together what he wanted to do. “I do, why?”

Without another word, Joel stood up and walked across the room to his record player, standing there with a tin of dust. Trying to look for the perfect disc and allow the melody to sweep through the house.

After his silence, you closed your eyes once again, just to abruptly open them to the familiar melody of the song playing through the house.

Out of touch, out of reach, yeah

You could try to get closer to me.

I’m in love; I’m in deep, yeah.

Hypnotized, I’m shaking to my knees.

Without a warning, Joel shot across the room to you, raising his hand for you to take it.

“What are you doing?” You questioned.

You felt a rush of panic surge through you as Joel approached, his outstretched hand beckoning you to join him. Your heart raced, torn between the desire to escape the moment and the temptation to give in to the pull of the music and Joel's presence.

"I... I don't know, Joel," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you hesitated to take his hand. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to resist, to maintain the boundaries you had carefully erected between you and Joel. But as his warm gaze met yours, a flicker of something unfamiliar sparked within you—a longing, a yearning for something more.

Joel's expression softened, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Come on," he urged gently, his voice low and soothing. "Let's dance, just like old times."

Despite your better judgment, you found yourself relenting, allowing Joel to pull you to your feet and into his arms. As the music enveloped you both, you were transported back to a time when laughter and joy filled the air, when the weight of unspoken feelings had yet to cast its shadow over your friendship.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lose yourself in the rhythm of the music and in the warmth of Joel's embrace. But even as you swayed together in the dim light of his living room, you couldn't shake the nagging sense of unease that tugged at the corners of your mind. You felt a lump form in your throat.

"I'm going to miss this, you know? Our late-night dance parties, just the two of us." You whispered.

“I’m not dying,” he replied, humored.

You pulled back to look at his face for a moment, finding the words you wanted to say. “I know, but it will be different.”

You found the same easy smile and the same playful glint that had always been there, masking the deeper emotions that lay beneath.

"I know," Joel replied, his voice softening as he squeezed your hand gently. "Things are going to be different after tomorrow. But no matter what happens, you'll always be my best friend; you know that, right?"

His words struck a chord within you, stirring a mix of emotions that you struggled to put into words. Part of you wanted to cling to Joel's reassurance, to hold onto the comfort of his friendship, even as the world around you shifted and changed. But another part of you couldn't help but wonder what tomorrow would bring and whether things would ever truly be the same between you and Joel again.

"Yeah," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music. "I know."

And as you continued to dance together in the dim light of Joel's living room, you couldn't help but wonder. What would happen after tomorrow?

You allowed yourself to inhale his perfume as you placed your head on his shoulder, containing the tears that threatened to spill.

There was silence.

“Have you ever been in love?” He asked.

As Joel's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications settled over you like a heavy fog. You lifted your head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. His eyes searched yours, holding a depth of curiosity and vulnerability that you hadn't expected.

"Have you ever been in love before?" He asked, his voice soft and earnest, as if he were searching for something in your answer, something beyond mere words.

You felt a lump form in your throat, the truth of your feelings threatening to spill out despite your best efforts to contain them. But you couldn't bring yourself to lie to Joel—not now, not when the walls you had built around your heart felt so fragile and precarious.

"Yes," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke the words that had long been buried deep within you. "Yes, I have."

Joel's expression softened, and his heart exploded at the tiny thought of being the one you loved. “And... is it someone I know?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal and how much to lay bare before him. But in the end, you couldn't deny him the truth, and you couldn't deny yourself the chance to finally speak the words that had remained unspoken for so long.

"Maybe,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly as you met Joel's gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and longing.

As the song ended, the room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your confession lingering in the air like a palpable presence. You and Joel stood there, locked in a moment of uncertainty, each grappling with the implications of your words.

Joel's gaze searched yours, his eyes filled with a myriad of emotions—surprise, confusion, and perhaps a glimmer of hope. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out, his thoughts seemingly tangled in a web of conflicting feelings.

“Wait, you have to tell me so you can be the next one to get married?” Your heart skipped a beat at Joel's attempt to lighten the mood, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the gravity of this situation inside you.

“I can’t.”

“Why? Any man would love to be with someone like you.” he encouraged.

“I can’t because that man is getting married tomorrow.” That's it. You had confessed your feelings for him.

A heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the weight of your confession hanging in the air. You could see the flicker of realization cross Joel's features, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your words.

The warmth that had filled the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by a palpable tension that wrapped around you both like a suffocating blanket. You watched as Joel's expression shifted, a myriad of emotions playing across his features—shock, disbelief, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

"I... I don't know what to say," Joel finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. "I didn't realize... I mean, I never thought..."

His voice trailed off, and he looked away, his gaze fixating on a spot on the floor as he wrestled with his thoughts. You could feel the weight of his confusion and uncertainty pressing down on you—a heavy burden that threatened to crush you beneath its weight.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, the words barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I didn't mean to... I never meant for things to get this complicated."

Joel shook his head; his expression hurt as he finally met your gaze once more. "No, it's not your fault," he said softly. "I just...”

You nodded in understanding, knowing that this revelation had changed everything between you, perhaps irreparably so. But even as the reality of the situation sank in, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at finally speaking the truth, no matter how painful it may be.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Joel's question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of years of unspoken emotions.

You swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words to explain the complexities of your feelings. "I... I didn't know how," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was afraid of ruining our friendship, of losing you altogether."

Joel's expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek as he listened intently. "You could never lose me," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You're my best friend, and nothing could ever change that."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of Joel's understanding and compassion. "I know," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "But I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, even if it meant keeping my feelings hidden."

“And you had to wait all these years just to tell me the night before I got married!” He raised his voice; he had never done it before.

Your heart clenched at Joel's raised voice, the rawness of his emotions cutting through you like a knife. "I know, I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I should have told you sooner; I should have been honest with you from the beginning."

Joel's expression softened at your words, regret flickering in his eyes as he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands. "I'm not mad," he said softly, his voice filled with tenderness. "I'm just... I'm just surprised, that's all. I never knew."

His words trailed off, and you could see the turmoil churning beneath the surface, the weight of his impending marriage bearing down on him like a heavy burden. You reached out, tentatively placing your hand over his as you searched for the right words to ease his pain.

As the weight of your shared emotions hung heavily in the air, you and Joel sat in a charged silence, stealing glances at each other as if trying to decipher the unspoken words lingering between you. There was tension, a magnetic pull drawing you closer, and neither of you could resist its irresistible force.

With a trembling breath, you meet his eyes, knowing this would be the last time you would be this close to him.

His eyes also met yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, mirroring the tumultuous emotions swirling within your own heart. And then, in a moment that felt both inevitable and electrifying, Joel closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender, achingly sweet kiss. It was a kiss filled with years of unspoken desires and unacknowledged feelings, a silent confession of the love that had always lingered just beneath the surface.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you melted into each other's embrace, the world falling away to leave only the two of you, lost in the swirling tide of emotions that threatened to consume you both.

As Joel deepened the kiss, his phone suddenly rang, breaking the spell of the moment and pulling you both back to reality with a jolt. You reluctantly pulled away from each other, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to compose yourselves.

Joel's hand instinctively went to his pocket, retrieving his phone with a mixture of frustration and resignation. He glanced at the caller ID, his brow furrowing in confusion as he recognized the name flashing on the screen.

"It's Tess," he murmured, his voice tinged with apprehension as he answered the call. "Hey, Tess, what's up?"

You watched as Joel listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line, his expression growing increasingly tense with each passing moment. Your heart sank as you realized the gravity of the conversation unfolding before you, the weight of Joel's impending marriage casting a shadow over the fragile intimacy you had shared just moments before.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel finally ended the call, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered his phone. He turned to look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing.

"I have to go," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tess needs me."

You nodded, your heart heavy with disappointment and resignation. "I understand," you replied, forcing a small smile despite the ache in your chest.

And with that, Joel gathered his things and made his way to the door.

“Joel.”

He stopped on his tracks by the door, looking at you without being able to look you in the eyes.

Joel's steps faltered at your words, his hand pausing on the doorknob as he turned to face you once more. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“I’m not coming tomorrow,” you said.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to comprehend the significance of your statement.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage as you met his gaze head-on. "I mean, I can't be there tomorrow," you repeated, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within you. “Not after this, so I’m going back to my house and I’ll move to New York just as I planned.”

“What?” Joel's voice wavered with disbelief, his eyes widening in shock at your words. He took a step closer to you, his expression pleading as if hoping you would take back what you had just said.

"Please, don't do this," he urged, his voice filled with desperation. "You can't just leave like this, not after everything that's happened between us."

You felt a pang of guilt at the anguish in Joel's voice, the weight of his words bearing down on you like a heavy burden. But you knew that staying would only prolong the inevitable, dragging out the pain and heartache for both of you.

"I have to," you said softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. "I can't stay here and watch you marry someone else, knowing how I feel about you. It's too much, Joel. I need to go."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke, the ache in your chest growing heavier with each passing moment. But despite the pain, you knew deep down that leaving was the only option, the only way to protect your heart from further damage.

Joel reached out to you, his hand hovering in the air as if unsure whether to touch you. "Please, don't go," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion. "I... I need you here with me."

You met his gaze, the intensity of his words washing over you like a wave. But as much as you longed to stay, you knew that leaving was the only way forward, the only way to find peace and healing for your shattered heart.

"I'm sorry, Joel," you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you turned away from him. "But you just kiss me, and I feel sick because you cheated, and I won’t be the other woman.”

Joel's shoulders slumped, and his face contorted with anguish as he realized the depth of his mistake. "Please, don't leave," he pleaded, taking a step closer to you. "I'll call off the wedding; I'll do whatever it takes to make things right. Just please, don't go."

“Do you even love me to do that?” you asked,

Joel's eyes widened at your question, his expression filled with a mixture of shock and desperation. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out, his thoughts seemingly tangled in a web of conflicting emotions.

The silence was defeating, and your heart sank at his response, the uncertainty in his words cutting through you like a knife. You had hoped for reassurance, for a declaration of love that would make everything right again, but instead, you were met with doubt and confusion.

And with that, you gathered your things and made your way to the door, leaving Joel standing alone in his living room, his heart breaking with every step you took away from him.

"You'll marry Tess, and I'll leave," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you disappeared from his sight.

The words echoed in Joel's mind long after you had gone. At that moment, Joel knew that he had to make a choice—one that would determine the course of his future and the fate of his heart. But as he sat alone in the silence of his living room, the weight of that decision felt heavier than ever before.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller series #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal

[magpiepills]

Put It In, Coach

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x f! Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: you are an 18 year old high school senior on the cheerleading team, and Joel is the beloved and successful football coach. He helps you with some stretching after practice.

Warnings: SMUT!! The girthiest age gap (18 & 56), consensual but extremely unethical sexual relationship, pervert Joel, power imbalance, dubcon (due to said power imbalance) but I assure you reader is of legal age and enthusiastically consents. piv, oral (m receiving) fingering, dirty talk, semi-innocent reader, blackmail, creampie, twist ending, possibly dark Joel.

A word from the author: This is a repost! Listen, I know this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. That is fine. Please don’t feel obligated to interact with this fic even if we are friends. It will be fine. I am posting this without making eye contact with anyone.

What is more important in a small Texas town than the high school football team?

Nothing, if you asked most anyone, including of course, head Lions football coach, Joel Miller- Coach Miller, that is. He had lead the team to numerous state titles, securing donations to the football program and filled display cases with trophies and framed team photos. Several former players had even gone on to play in the NFL.

Yeah, Coach Miller is a big deal.

You feel lucky when during your senior year the cheerleading team has to share practice space with the football team. Honored when Coach Miller helps your squad with conditioning. While the football team runs drills, he’s monitoring your time on the treadmill, checking your form during lunges, and helping you really lean into your stretches. He’s so helpful and encouraging. “That’s it, girls, get those knees up! Hustle!” He yelled as he watched you run by in your little shorts and sports bra. The one you took to wearing when you knew he might see.

Coach Miller knew a thing or two about cheerleading too, and he helped your coach to develop a cheer routine. You always blushed when his rough, steadying hands gripped your bare legs or circled your waist to help direct you. You saw how the other girls exchanged looks, but

Coach Miller had experience, he obviously knew enough about cheer. He knew what got crowds excited and lifted team morale. You beamed when he clapped and tucked his clipboard under his arm as you balanced on your teammates shoulders, one knee lifted high, both arms aloft, Pom-poms rustling in the hot Texas breeze. You felt butterflies that fluttered from your stomach down to your throbbing pussy. “Atta girl. You got it!” He praised.

The fawning newspaper articles never mentioned how handsome Coach Miller is. He’s probably in his fifties but you didn’t care. The other girls rolled their eyes, called him an old man. You liked the gray in his hair and beard. You liked the way his body was still so broad and strong, even if his belly was a little softer than it used to be. You liked the way his forearm flexed as he lifted the whistle to blow and get everyone’s attention. “Alright, boys go hit the showers, girls you stay and finish stretching.” Your cheer coach was busy with Megan and Lindsay and Tiffany, so you did your best to go through the regimen on your own.

You stood and twisted at your waist, first to one side, then the other. You spread your legs wide and bent deep to touch your toes, keeping your spine loose. You wanted him to see. “Ugh. He’s watching us.” You heard behind you. “He’s such a creep. He’s like a hundred years old.” “Yeah and you remember what happened with Monica. Nobody’s going to say shit to him.” You listened to the other girls talking, and tried to ignore them. Of course there were rumors about Coach that passed though the girls at school. They were probably just mad that he wasn’t giving them the time of day.

It was easy to forget the other girls and their hateful gossip when you saw that handsome man across the field. You stood and dabbed your shoulder. You winced and rubbed it, drawing the attention of Coach Miller. He jogged over, the muscles of his thighs rippling under his khaki shorts, belly rounding slightly under his royal blue polo shirt, and whistle bouncing as he made his way to you. “What’s ’a matter, sweetheart?” Care and concern painted his dark features, furrowing his brow. “It’s just my shoulder, Coach. I don’t know, it just is pretty sore.” You pouted up at him, giving him your best helpless face. He hummed and nodded. “You girls go on and get cleaned up, we’re done for today. I’ll let your coach know. I gotta deal with this.” He gestured to you, and you bowed your head sheepishly. The rest of the girls scoffed and muttered as they gathered their bags, shooting you looks of disdain and perhaps pity. Good riddance to them.

“Thank you Coach.” You said softly, bashfully. “C’mon, I got an ice pack in my office. Can’t let our rising star get hurt, can we?” You relished his attention. The hallways leading to his office were dark and empty, at 5:30 on a Friday, everyone had gone home. Once inside his office you sat on his desk, cluttered with papers and Gatorade bottles. You swung your legs and leaned back on your palms, letting the hem of your top ride up to expose a sliver of your belly. You hoped he would notice the way it was snug against your breasts. His office smelled like sweat and Lysol, but photos and framed newspaper clippings covered the walls. You used your phone to cover the framed photo on his desk of him and his wife and kid.

When Coach Miller returned with the ice pack, he found you innocently playing with the hem of your short cheer skirt. He hesitated, taking in your long, bare legs, smooth and pretty. He followed the line of them up to where they disappeared under that damn skirt, he wondered what he might find if he flipped it up. Wondered if you had on those little white panties he had seen once when you were practicing cartwheels with the other girls. He wasn’t stupid man. He knew that some of you young girls had little crushes on him. He'd be a liar if he said it didn’t stroke his ego or that he hadn’t jerked off more than a few times behind his locked office door. He would never, ever admit to a few consensual dalliances with a few girls. Always over 18, but always so young and beautiful and eager to please. Was it wrong? When they wanted him? Joel preferred to think of it as a perk of the job.

“Where’s it hurtin’, honey?” Coach Miller asked, his voice much more tender than he ever used with the boys on his football team.

“My shoulder, coach. It’s sore.” He made a sympathetic sound and slowly, carefully began to run his big hands over your arms. “Can you hold ‘em up for me? Good girl.” You held your arms out to the side and he palpated your shoulders, stepped back to look you over, checking for you didn’t know what. It didn’t matter. Your shoulder didn’t really hurt.

Joel frowned. “What is it coach? Is it bad? Your voice was small and wavering.

“No, darlin’ it’s just that I can’t get a good feel for your rotator cuff cause your shirt’s in the way.”

“Oh..”

“Well, here’s the thing, you know we got that big game comin’ up and your coach won’t let ya cheer if you’re hurt. Really would be best if I could just check it out. If nothin’s wrong we ain’t gotta worry your coach over it.” He winked at you conspiratorially.

“What if I just…I could just take this off.” You tried to sound casual. Like it was the most normal thing for an eighteen year old to be topless in a room alone with a 56 year old woodshop teacher/football coach.

“That’s what the boys all do, sugar. Ain’t a big deal, but I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable. I can just go get your coach and she can check ya out.”

There was no way you wanted your coach thinking you were injured. Not when you were gunning for a cheerleading scholarship. Missing any games now was out of the question.

“We don’t need to bother her, Coach Miller. I trust you.”

Joel nodded. “Alright, I’ll tell ya what- I’ll give ya a towel to cover up with. How’s that?”

“Sounds good, Coach. Just, could you help me unzip?” You gave him a little smile over your shoulder and held your hair out of the way for him to drag the zipper down.

Joel stifled a groan when he realized you didn't have a bra on under your little top. His cock was already beginning to swell in his shorts. You shrugged off the blue and yellow top of your uniform and clutched the tiny towel he handed you to your chest. “Is this good, Coach Miller?”

“Yeah that’s good. Real good. Arms straight up, now. Gotta check your rotator cuff.”

You did as he asked, and the towel slipped to your lap and he rubbed and squeezed at your shoulders, peeking over to catch a glimpse of your bare tits. They were so pretty, your hard little nipples making his mouth water.

“Good news. I don’t think it’s anything serious. A little massage and rest is probably all ya need. Couple ibuprofen.”

You thanked him, half heartedly bringing the towel to cover your chest again.

“Just one thing though, I noticed there’s not a current physical on file for you. You know, they take that stuff real serious. I know you’ve been workin’ real hard all year, I think you’ve got real potential and I’d hate for you to throw that away over a little form. If you want, I can give ya a quick check and it’ll be our little secret.”

“Gosh, Coach. You’d really do that for me?”

You knew damn well your physical was on file. You had taken it to the office yourself. It was something you’d been doing every year since you started playing sports in junior high.

“Yeah, won’t take but a minute. Don’t want ya getting in any trouble.”

You sighed gratefully. “Thanks Coach Miller. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Go on and hop up on my desk and I’ll make this quick and easy.”

He moved your arms one at a time, feeling for proper movement. He had you step on a scale and measured your height and weight, commenting that you were “full grown.” He had you bend forward and touch your toes, sliding his fingertips up the length of your spine to check for scoliosis, but taking the opportunity to admire the way your skirt rode up to expose just a bit of your panties, just barely brushing his hard cock over your ass. “Oops!” You dropped the towel, dramatically covering your tits with your hands, squeezing them together.

Joel looked at the form he was half-assing and scribbled on it, before sitting it aside and clearing his throat. “You uh, you do your regular self exams?”

“Self exams?” you blinked at him innocently, hiding the smirk that threatened to break through.

“Breast exams, sweetheart. Gotta make sure everything is like it’s supposed to be. Real important to check. Maybe I better show you how. Why don’t you lay down there and put your arms over your head for me?”

You did as he asked, lying back on his desk and didn’t bother hiding your lustful stare and he slid both hands up your rib cage to cup the underside of your breasts. He squeezed gently, kneading the supple flesh. “You’re doing great, baby.” You whined as he worked his way around your nipples, watching intently as they hardened. “Almost done.” He pinched at your nipples, making you squirm, he pulled gently, and rubbed them under his thumbs before squeezing your tits once more. “I think that’ll do.”

But he didn’t take his hands from you. He ran them over your chest, down your sternum, over your belly to the band of your skirt. He gripped your hips through the rough fabric, forgetting himself, or dropping the act. Either way, he found himself staring at the wet spot on your exposed panties. You bent your knees and rested your heels on the edge of Coach Miller’s desk. “Let’s see if he can resist this!” You’d thought, delighted with the way your plan was working.

Joel had his fair share of girls throwing themselves at him over the years, but you certainly took the cake. In half an hour you’d gone from a shy school girl to a sex starved slut right on his desk. It had been so easy, maybe too easy. Give you a little attention, some praise you weren’t getting at home, some touches like he knew the dumbass boys on his team weren’t going to learn about for another eight to ten years. Joel loved it when his plans worked.

“Something you need, baby?”

“Mhm. My backs kinda stiff. Maybe you could help stretch me. Get me loosened up.”

“This help?” Joel placed his hands on your knees and pushed them up, gently rolling your lower spine as he stood between your legs.he lowered them, letting your covered pussy brush against his rock hard cock, then repeated the motion, pushing your knees a little further each time.

“Feels so good, Coach.” You breathed, hands gripping the sides of his desk.

“Gonna open your hips up, you’re bein’ such a good girl.” He pushed again, letting your knees fall to the side, spreading you wide open. You could feel the way your panties clung wetly to your aching pussy, rendered nearly transparent by the slick that started seeping from you the minute you entered Coach Miller’s office.

Joel couldn’t play this dumb game with you anymore. He squeezed your plush thighs and pushed them down, dragging his thumb over the soaked gusset of your underwear. “I think ya got a bigger problem than a stiff back. Looks like you’re really hurtin’ right here. How long has this pussy been needin taking care of?”

Finally! “All day, Coach. I really need help to make it feel better.”

Joel’s finger slipped under the fabric to slide over your puffy lips.

“I got some other massages and stretches that’ll make this all better. Do you want that?”

“Yes, please! Please Coach.” You nearly shouted at him. If he didn’t do something soon you’d have to try to climb on top of him and just take what you needed. It’s not like you couldn’t see how hard his cock had been since the minute you got your tits out. He was a creep and everybody knew it, but he was too handsome to resist and if his bulging erection was any indication, well…

“Gotta get these panties off.” You lifted your hips for him to slide them off, then stretched your legs and demonstrated your flexibility by pulling your ankles down and holding your legs wide open for him. “Goddamn. Look at this. You do want this, don’t ya? Got so damn wet on my desk from just gettin your tits touched. Are all the girls on your team so slutty?” He marveled at how wet you were, slipping his fingers from your entrance up and around your clit, tapping your pussy firmly with the flat of his hand and groaning at the sticky slapping sounds.

His index finger teased at your opening while his thumb rubbed over your clit. Flames licked at your belly. “Just slutty for you, Coach. Need a real man.”

“Yeah? You need a real man?” He emphasized his words by sinking two thick fingers into you, “I’ll show ya what a real man can do for you, but you ain’t ever gonna be happy with a boy again.” He pumped his fingers into you and to your shock, dripped spit directly from his mouth to your clit. The slip made the sensation even more intense, and you squeezed his fingers as your orgasm crested. “Good, huh? Well, we ain’t done. I got a little more stretching for this tight little cunt.” You’d never heard anyone talk so crudely. You loved it. “Fuck yes, Coach, please. Please!”

Joel’s eyes snapped up from where he was watching his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Watch your language.” You whined and bucked your hips, eager for what you hoped was coming next. Joel worked a third finger into your pussy, the stretch stung and radiated, but faded into a pleasant feeling of fullness you’d never experienced before. Not with your inexperienced conquests.

Satisfied that he’d prepared you well enough, Joel hastily unbuckled his belt and let his shorts fall to the floor, weighed down by his wallet and keys. You watched as he tugged his turgid member, the biggest you’d ever seen. “C’mere. Get on your knees a minute. I know you know how to do that.”

“You want me to suck your cock, Coach Miller?”

He huffed at you, amused at your innocent act.

“Open your mouth.” You opened wide and took him deep, gasping and bobbing your head over his tip, hollowing your cheeks. You looked up at him and took him as deep as possible, relishing in the look of devastation that washed over him as you gagged and drooled.

Joel muttered something you didn’t hear before he pulled you off his cock by your hair. “Bend over the desk. Come on.” You did as he asked, and he slicked his cock with your abundant arousal, slapping the head on your ass a couple times, then held the base of his cock in one hand, and gripped your hip with the other. Slow and steady he pushed into you, taking his time until he was fully sheathed, hips flush against your ass. He waited there, leaning his forehead against your back and reaching under you to grab your tit.

“So fucking tight. Tightest pussy I think I ever felt. You’re not a virgin are you?” You shook your head. You weren’t a virgin. He was your third. He was your biggest and best. It would be hard to top him, you mused until he dragged his length out of you and slammed back in with more force. He did that a few times- pull out slow, slammin hard. Slow, hard, slow, hard. Then he switched it up, pushing your knee up into the desk he favored slow, deep strokes so he could watch how your pussy gripped him and sucked him back in, wetting his cock with your slick, so wet it dripped down to his balls.

He smacked your ass, leaving handprints on the unblemished flesh. “Fuck yeah, baby. Just like that. Taking this cock so good. Feel ya squeezing me so tight. Cock hungry little slut making me fuck her. Fuckin beggin for this dick.” He gritted filth through clenched teeth. You reached down to rub your clit, and let your hand wander further, feeling where your bodies joined, stretching your fingers to catch his balls as he pounded mercilessly into you. He smacked your ass hard, then reached up to hold your shoulders and his movements became uneven. “Coach, please! Please, come in my little pussy!” You’d heard that in porn and thought it sounded good.

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut tight as he let go, filling you with rope after rope of cum. You moaned, feeling him pulsing deep inside.

There was no kiss afterward. No hugging, no cuddling. Joel handed you the little towel to clean up with, Carter he watched his spend drip out of your wrecked pussy and onto the fabric of your skirt. He wished he had a picture of it. You wiped away what you could and put your shirt back on, your panties had disappeared and at 6:15 there was no time to look for them now. Coach Miller promised he would find them for you. You gathered your phone and backpack. He squeezed your shoulder as he walked you out to the main hallway and cleared his throat. “You know, if anyone found out about this, it could ruin your shot at any kind of scholarship. You might not even get into college at all. Now, I know you young girls make mistakes and I’m not going to tell anyone as long as you keep up your grades and your practice. If I hear about ya being a slut, though, I’ll have to inform the principal for your own good. Don’t make me do something we would both regret, sweetheart. Ya understand?”

“Yes, Coach. I understand.”

Joel breathed a sigh of relief. He had seven years until he could retire. He wasn’t sure how many more pretty little seniors would come sniffing around, but he thought maybe he should try to stop giving in to every doe eyed little slut that came along. Oughta try other ways of keeping his dick wet.

On Monday Joel was at his desk, drinking coffee, making out a supply request form for his woodshop lesson plan when his phone chimed. A message from an unknown number had sent an attachment. He squinted at the screen, and froze in horror when he saw his own face looking back at him, he was perfectly framed in the shot, a still from a video, and there you were, smiling at the camera underneath him. The message that followed was short. “See you after practice, Coach.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller fix #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #smut #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #bat writes

[javier-pena]

pull (a joel miller drabble)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 854

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You discover something new about Joel.

Warnings: unprotected p in v sex | rough Joel | hair pulling | creampie | biting | (allusions to) oral (f receiving)

Notes: lmao I just quickly had to write this, inspired by this first look at season 2 that made me feel like a Victorian lady who needs to go to the seaside for her constitution, @ravensmadreads - I saw your tags and on my post from like half an hour ago, so here it is.

***

"That's it, that's it," he groans, his eyes closed tightly in concentration as he focuses entirely on feeling you around his cock. You want to focus too, on how he fills you, on how firmly you can clench around him, but there is something you want more – to stare at him in wonder and adoration.

That he came back to you today is a miracle, that you are straddling him now while he sits on your couch, legs spread widely, letting you roll your hips against him … you never want to take that for granted again. Usually, when he almost dies or you almost die, you don’t fuck like this. Usually, he takes the lead, more determined, sometimes more violent than you, until he has made sure you will not disappear from beneath him, that you’re real and solid and here. Today is different.

His breath hitches as he moves beneath you, and changes the angle ever so slightly. You clench around him, hard, your mouth falling open to shape a surprised O. That’s when his eyes fly open and he smirks up at you, a look you could paint from memory, one you can see so clearly even in the dimness of the room.

“You’re always so tight for me,” he mumbles against your neck, kissing you first just below your ear, then right above your collarbone. And then he bites down, ruthlessly, right into a tendon jutting out of your neck.

Your breath hitches as pain shoots through you. There it is, that brutal, almost violent side of him you love so much, and your world starts to make more sense again.

He’s licking the spot he bit, the one that will probably show the marks of his teeth for a while, when you raise your hand and dig your fingers right into his curls, pulling him away from you. His neck, stretched by the sudden movement, is all exposed now, his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he assesses the challenge you’re presenting him with.

Like a cat trying not to get caught, he moves his mouth closer to your throat again, not breaking eye contact, silently daring you to do something about it. You let go of his curls, brush them back, relishing how smooth they feel beneath your fingers, how they curl tightly at the back of his neck. And that’s where you dig in next, yanking his head toward the backrest of the couch.

He groans, so lost in the sensation he forgets about your little game. He thrusts up into you, meeting the roll of your hips, coming as close to relinquishing control to you as is possible for him.

You tighten your grip. “Kiss me.”

His hand closes around the back of your head immediately as he brings your lips down for a kiss. You smile, unable to hide your pride.

“What?” You feel the question against your lips more than you hear it.

“Guess you like it when I do this,” you whisper back, and yank his curls a third time, right on the this.

He growls, a sound that makes your hips stutter and your stomach curl tightly every time you hear it. “Careful, sweetheart, you’re playing with fire.”

“What are you going to do about it, big boy?” you ask, knowing full well what will happen if you use those two words.

He rolls you over faster than you can consider the consequences of your own actions so your naked stomach lands against the couch. You hear his belt buckle jingle as he kicks off his jeans, then climbs above you. You shake, actually shake, with anticipation, your whole body charged with an energy that’s impossible to control.

He's so so big when he takes you like that, and you press your face against the couch to muffle your scream as he pushes into you, spreading you so wide you’ll still feel him tomorrow. The whole couch shakes as his thrusts become erratic, chasing his own pleasure while putting yours on the back burner. That's the side of him you love the most – the one that lets go and just takes.

He doesn’t pull out when he comes, doesn’t try to hide the desperate stutter of his hips or the deep pants he makes when he empties himself into you, the ones you love to hear but he always tries to suppress. You lie still, finally in a position to focus on the sensations.

When he pulls out, you expect him to sit down next to you, to tell you, “Give me a minute,” like he so often does. He never forgets about your pleasure, but he needs to collect himself after an orgasm. Today, he glides of the couch onto his knees and pulls on your arm until you sit up, ears still ringing from how hard he fucked you.

“Come here, sweet girl,” he says softly, wrapping your legs around his shoulders, his eyes on the mess he made of you. “I need you to hold on now.” And then he buries his face between your legs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #don't look at me

[boliv-jenta]

Ted Garcia x f!reader

WC: just shy of 4k

Warnings: smut, violence, horror elements, mentions of killing children.

Summery: Ted saves you when a mysterious madness claims his town.

The Cabin

The banging synchronised perfectly with the throbbing in your head. Memories faded in and out in time with the beat. Running through the desert. Someone chasing you. Fear and betrayal swirl in your gut and fuel the pumping of your legs.

The exposed light bulb swings on its pendulum in time with the pounding. That sparks another memory. Pleasure blooming from between your legs. His deep breathing in your ear. Promises whispered as you lay on the soft pillow, your body feeling just as soft and pliable as you come down from your high. 

With a groan you try to sit up, the room spins but the pounding stops. Large hands find your back as the sparsely decorated room comes back into focus.

“Hey, you. You're awake. How are you? I was so worried.” Relief floods his voice as he wraps his arms around you. His moustache brushes your temple before he places a kiss there. Like he had a thousand times before. Ted. His name is Ted.

“I…I can't remember. What’s happening?” Your voice sounds far away to you. The rest of your mind is searching inwards. 

You remember your name, you prefer dogs over cats, tea over coffee. You remember Ted. The Mayor. Your Ted. He brings you flowers every date night. The pretty pink roses on the table between the takeaway he brought. The best tacos in town. You remember screaming. Someone attacking you. You, fighting for your life. Not just your life, someone else's. It's all there but it's not. It fractured, some parts missing completely, others a mere outline.

“What's the last thing you remember?” His broad frame is wrapped around you as he cradles you. His thumb gently rubs back and forth on your cheek. 

His presence brings you comfort. You know how you feel about him. “I love you.”

A sigh leaves his lips and blows through your hair. “I love you, too. What else do you remember?”

“Someone attacked me. I was fighting to protect myself and someone else…you?” His lips twitch into a smile against your skin as the words leave your mouth.

“Yes. That's good, you remember some of it. I'm glad because if I had to explain it, I don't think I could make you believe it. It's just…insanity. That's the only way to describe it.” He holds you even closer. ���The people…our people…they started to attack each other. I don't know why. It's like a madness that spreads. Those that don't die in the attacks become mad too. I was bringing you here, to protect you when we were attacked. You're right, you fought for me, saved me, but you took the brunt of the attack before I could…I had to put them down.” His voice is choked up now.

It's your turn to comfort him. “Ssshh, Ted. You did what you had to. I remember the attack. It was dark. We were walking then they grabbed me by my hair, kicked me, choked me…”

“Hey. Don't think about that now. We're safe.” He kisses away tears you didn't know you had shed. “We have food and water. We can wait until things are safe then get out of here. You were only passing through anyway. We'll go buy that beach house you wanted. Alright?” His lips find yours. The kiss is easy, familiar, your lips move against his with ease. 

“Yeah. That sounds perfect. Do you have any idea what's causing it? The madness?” You can't help but think of your neighbours. A sweet old couple. Hopefully they are safe too. 

“The doctor had a few theories. Animal virus in our meat. Fungal infection. Natural gases. I tried to get us help. I really did. It happened so fast. The army should be on their way to help…survivors.” His shoulders slump. He loves his town. He loves being Mayor. That's part of what attracted you to him.

Your coffee was lukewarm as you planned the next part of your trip. Ted walked past the diner talking passionately about his town to the camera. He speaks with ease, his words are honest, straight forward. Later, he speaks the same with you. His marriage is a sham. His wife is already half moved in with her lover. She's staying until after the election, on his campaign manager's insistence. He likes you but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. It's you that does the chasing. He's almost shy when you touch him. He looks down at you through his lashes when you drop to your knees for him. You bring his hand to your head it lays there passively until he lets out a stifled groan and his fingers clench in the stands of your hair. It takes a while for him to take charge, to be as comfortable with you as he is in his role. When he does though, he has your sobbing, near folded in half, your cervix bruising, you and your body screaming. When you lay in his arms afterwards you spill your secret desires and hopes. You want a home on the beach, a career in nature photography. He wants a family, a bigger political career. You lay both your bodies and souls bare in your stolen time together. Quickly, you fall head over heels for him.

The water is hot and inviting as Ted helps you into the tub. “Here. This should help. Nice and hot. I have some whiskey here somewhere too. As my Abuela would say, a couple of shots won't solve everything but they won't hurt either.” 

Ted had taken stock of your injuries, while he helped undress you. Your sides were bruised. You remember them kicking you while you were curled on the dry ground. The scrub cut your face and bare arms as you tried to roll away from your attacker. The water stung the tiny scratches at first. Then it began to relax you.

“There, all cleaned up.” Ted wrung out the wash cloth he cleaned you up with.

“Thank you.” You sigh.

“No problem. I'm a public servant.” He laughs lightly. “You relax. I'll go heat up some food. Then you can go to bed early. I boarded up the windows and barricaded the door but I'll stay up to watch over you, just in case.”

The tinned soup is pretty damn good. It warms as it fills you. Ted washes the dishes in the tiny sink in the corner of the room, next to a small counter top with a camping stove and some utensils on it, while you rest on the bed. 

Once he's done, he fills a glass of water and hands it to you with a couple of round, white pills. “I found a few painkillers. Have these for now.” It still hurts to swallow but it'll be worth it for the painkillers to kick in.

“Thank you. You're doing all this for me but how are you?” You pat the bed next to you and he takes a seat.

“Honestly? Terrified. I don't know what's going on. I couldn't help my town. I feel like I could have done more but I saw the opportunity to save you and I had to. What kind of person does that make me?” He hangs his head in his hands.

“I'm sure you did whatever you could. Then you saved who you could. I would have done the same.” You replace his hands with your own. Drawing him to you, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, he returns it, then you do, then the back and forth rhythm dissolves into a hungry clash of tongues. Using his flannel shirt as leverage you pull him close until a pain shoots through your abdomen. The hiss that leaves you stops Ted in his tracks. 

“Honey! I'm sorry. Are you alright?” He checks you over as if he can fix it all. Ever the practical man.

“I'm okay.” The pain subsides and you feel even more tired.

“Come on. I'll lay with you until you fall asleep.” Once again he is cradling you like he can protect you from the world.

Sleep comes quickly. It's fitful and filled with nightmares. Nightmares about the madness that Ted told you about. The sweet old couple you were worried about tearing out the throats of the children across the street. Their terror filled eyes glazing over as their blood spills over their colorful chalk drawings on the sidewalk. Sweat cools on your skin as you jump awake. Ted flips on the light and is by your side in seconds. His shotgun is abandoned on the cupboard that is serving as a barricade and the high stool he was perched on to keep watch is tipped over in his haste.

His hands find you to comfort you. “I'm here. I've got you. Oh, shit!” 

Following his eyeline you see the heavy blood stain on the white sheet between your legs. “What?! What. I…” 

“Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. You took some kicks to the stomach, maybe something was damaged. Let's stay calm. If we need to I'll get you to a hospital. The army should be here now. I'll get you help, I swear. I love you. I love you.” Fear creeps into Ted's voice as he begins to ramble while he rocks you in his arms.

A week passes, each day much the same. You rest. Ted cares for you. Thankfully, the bleeding stopped before that first morning. Each day you get stronger. With each day the hope of survival rises. Each day Ted reminds you why you fell in love with him. He's your gentle protector. 

When your need for him grows too strong, he's still gentle, he kisses and caresses you until you are dripping for him. His thick fingers dip inside you to spread your slick before teasing your clit until you gush and relax for him. Even though his girthy length fills you with ease, he still takes his time with you. He works himself in slowly until your hips start to chase him. When he picks up speed he constantly checks in with you, whispering in your ear. After you come around him pulling him deeper, he asks if you can keep taking him until he comes. When he does finally spill inside you it's with a whimper.

Another week passes. This one is like a honeymoon. The worry of the world outside is almost forgotten with the two of you exploring each other's bodies like never before. Before you had stolen moments between meetings and appearances. Now you can take your time. 

“Ted, I can't!” you can't help but giggle as you push him away. His moustache is soaked with your cum. You've lost count of how many times you've come against it while Ted spent the morning pleasuring you. “Here, let me take care of you.” You reach for the massive bulge in his underwear.

Catching your hand, he brings it to his lips. “Actually, I have an idea.”

Letting go of your hand, he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear to slip them down his firm thighs until his cock springs free. Running his fingers through your slick, he uses it to coat himself until his fist pumps up and down freely. His eyes are laser focused on your wet cunt until they roll back and close. His hand slaps against his balls as he openly pleasures himself to your body. He looks beautiful, free and unashamed. A delicious look of pure ecstasy crossed his face when he hunches over grabbing your bare breast as he comes in hot ropes over your stomach. The one room cabin smells of sex every night that you fall asleep together.

The sun is setting as you finish dinner. The bare light bulb is off in favour of the small bedside lamp. Its warm light makes your new home feel cosy. Ted kisses your head as he collects your empty bowl. What you see next is so unexpected in your new little world that it takes a second for you to realise what you are seeing. A beam of white light flashes through the gaps in the boards of the window.

“Ted?” Ted turns to your voice and sees it too. 

Quickly and quietly, he crossed to the door frame, squeezing himself between the window on the cabin door and the one on the wall next to it. He tries to see out without being seen.

“Get down!” He orders as the light gets brighter.

The sound of approaching footsteps fill the small space. Your heart is in your mouth. Beating harder with each nearing step. The bang on the door almost caused your heart to explode. Another bang has you nearly choking on it.

“Mayor Garcia?!” A voice calls out. 

The name escapes you but the voice is familiar. It's one of the Sheriff's deputies. Relief floods you. “We're saved!” You sob at Ted stumbling towards him on shaking legs.

“Hello?” The voice calls, clearly having heard you.

“Ted? Open the door.” You try for the handle and Ted stiffens. “He's here to help.” Ted still doesn't move to open the door. “Ted?” 

When you look at him in the low light his face is cold for a second before he opens the door. “Of course.” He gives you a fleeting smile.

“Sir, are you okay? Sheriff Vasquez came to look for you but she never came back. I found her car a little up the road there in a ditch. Ma'am.” He added in politeness with a nod.

“We were fine.” Ted responds coolly before taking his shotgun and blowing away the Deputy.

Shock rips through you like the pelts through the Deputy's flesh. “Ted!”

Fear claws at your throat as he turns to you. His warm, soft eyes are cold as steel. 

“They couldn't just leave well alone. After all I've done for this town!” His raised voice raises the hairs on your neck. “I had a plan. I always have a plan. The ones I did for this town always work. But the one time I do one for me and it all goes to shit.” The stool by the door is flung across the room. “It was simple. Bring you here. Kill you. Bury you. No one would know. You were just passing through. No one would care.” As his words swarm you you cower back against the wall, using it to hold your broken pieces up. “Then you had to go and dig yourself out of your grave. I was going to just shoot you, seeing as choking you didn't work but then I thought ‘How did you manage to survive?’ a weak little woman. A whore, who sucks down married men's cocks. Maybe you had potential. Or maybe my seed made you stronger. Of course, I had to fix you back up. I had to make sure you lost that bastard child first. I can have an heir out of wedlock. How would that look? A hot bath, some whiskey, some pills that you didn't look too closely at. That was that. Thankfully, you didn't even remember that night.”

The pretty pink roses rest on the table. The same pink appears in two lines on the pregnancy test next to it.

“You're pregnant?” Ted is expressionless as he repeats his question. 

“Yes and I want to keep it.” You reach for his hand, only for him to snatch it away. 

“What? You think I'd have a baby with you? How would that look? Having a baby with a whore?” His words hit you like a slap in the face. 

“A whore? You said you loved me.”

“I do but you're not Mayor's Wife material. You threw yourself at me. Bounced on my bare cock after only knowing me for a few weeks. Begged me to fuck your ass. Came all over my suit from rubbing your hungry pussy over my thigh. I mean, it was all good. I've never shot my load down a woman's throat that quickly before. Even when I hold my wife's head and force my cock down her throat it takes me a while to get there. I mean, I married her for her standing, not her skills in the bedroom but to have a child with you? You must be crazy.”

You're up on your trembling legs while you try to process. The words come out before you realise. “Ted. I…I love you.” As if saying it could make him the man you fell for again, not this horrible stranger in front of you.

“Then you'll get rid of that kid and we'll go back to what we had.” He rises slowly to gently take your hand.

“No! I can't.” Your fingers are shaking in his palm. You're not sure I'd it's from fear or anger.

“You can. Or I can make you.” His free hand shoots up to grab your throat.

“Fuck you!” You manage to spit before kicking him in his knee.

Howling in pain, he releases you. “You little slut!” 

You are soon outside, running as fast as you can. The thought of your unborn baby pushing you on. Until Ted yanks you back by your hair. The sudden momentum sends you hurling to the ground. Ted manages to get a few kicks in to subdue you before he pulls you to your feet. Terror grips you as he wraps his large hands around your throat and you become light headed. The fight in you starts to fade as your lungs begin to burn.

“That's it. Let go. It'll all be over soon. Shhh. Let me take care of you.” The bastard has the audacity to kiss your temple as you go slack in his arms.

Ted feels relieved while he carries you to the shallow grave he’d dug. It would keep you hidden long enough for the animals to find you and pick you clean. No body, no crime. This is what he had to do. For the town. He couldn't have a scandal keeping him from being reelected. It was only when he lay you gently in the ground that his heart betrayed him. It clenched at the thought of you all alone out here. The two of you, without his protection. He brushed the thought away when he threw the first shovel load of dirt on your body.

Back at the cabin, he sat to get his story straight. He told his campaign manager that he was taking a day. He made sure enough people saw him leave town alone. He'd stop by the store tomorrow and make sure everyone saw him coming back. He had a few weeks before he needed to pile on the pressure with his constitutes. He could lay low for a while. If the police found you before the animals could do their job he could spin it. He could be saddened at the death of the poor woman, who he had taken under his wing. The poor woman who he'd allow to use his cabin for a while to take some nature photographs for her portfolio. She'd confessed that she had a baby on the way from her abusive ex so Ted felt compelled to help her. All his plans went sideways when you stumbled back into the cabin and passed out on the bed.

Fighting the urge to throw up, you push past Ted and out into the night. 

“Come on, Honey. You know this goes one of two ways for you. You die or you stay with me. I knew I couldn't go back to town when you came back, so I've set my sights on bigger and better things. You could be a part of that. I'll make an honest woman of you. You can have a few kids. I look after all of you. We'll be picture perfect for my new campaign.” His voices get quieter to your ears as you edge your way in the dirt towards the Deputy’s car that he rolled to a stop down the dirt track. It's only a few feet away. The door is open and the keys are in the ignition. You're sure you can make it. 

“Come on. What do you say?” His voice seems closer. 

The light from the car obscures your view. There's no way for you to know where he is without giving yourself away. 

‘Fuck it!’ you think and prepare to launch yourself at the car.

Just as you do the window of the open door bursts like an overripe watermelon above you. Glass rains down on you. You hear the distinct sound of a shotgun being snapped open. You have time to get to the car. Filled with renewed hope, you haul yourself up. Only for Ted to kick the door shut inches from your face. 

“Hey, you. Let's just talk about this.” His best trustworthy smile is plastered on his face. It's eerily lit by the car’s lights. It gives his beautiful profile a harshness. His profile becomes even more harsh when you punch him squarely in the crotch. 

Even as he crumbles, he laughs. “See, maybe that fire can come in handy. The world is changing. People expect more from politician’s wives.”

You are off running again. The same way you ran that night. Unfortunately, you take exactly the same route you took that night and end up back in your shallow grave. This time with even more company. The Sheriff is stone cold. Her face is bloody and puffy. Her glazed over eyes are bloodshot. 

“Thankfully, you didn't check those pills too closely. Sleeping pills kept you out for most of that first week so I could go back to town and sort some things out. Unfortunately, I must have made her suspicious. I should have known. She got too close last time.” It felt like Ted was just treating you like the crowd at one of his rallies now, giving one of his long speeches. “We used to have a problem with homeless people. People can only run so far from their past. A lot of them ended up here, hoping to disappear over the border. I couldn't have that. Not on my streets. The first couple were tough. They were big men. The women were easier. They followed me out here willingly. Any-who, I slipped you another dose a couple of nights ago to go back to town. The Sheriff was waiting up the road there. She knew I had property out here and was trying to catch me in the act. Dumb bitch. Like I would drive around with evidence. I disposed of everything…”

It was your turn to laugh. “Not everything.”

The beautiful smile, the one that he gave you on that first day, the one that made you feel special after years of heartache, spread across his face as his brow furrowed in confusion. His confusion increased as pain ripped through his chest and his gut. He sank to his knees, suddenly weak and cold. “You forgot to dispose of her gun.”

The day was cooling down. The sun was low. The breeze picks up as you pull the blanket around you. For a second you debate going into your home, the house that you bought with the money Ted had stashed at the cabin on one of his trips into town while you were drugged. Instead you sat to watch your daughter run around on the sand, your faithful dog hot on her heels. For the past three years of her life, you've been asked over and over again about her unusual name ‘Tesha’. With a smile you tell people it means ‘survivor’. 

Tags to prove that I did what I said: @yourcoolauntie @tinytinymenace @missredherring @artsy-girl-76 @maggiemayhemnj @novemberrain-writes @sheepdogchick3 @janaispunk

Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse @sherala007 @vabeachazn

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #ted garcia #ted garcia x f!reader

[popcornforone]

HOT GIRL SUMMER

A collection of my Fics to get you through the summer

I never actually created this last summer so now this summer is approaching it’s time to start grouping them together. It’s time for us all to enjoy a good hot girl summer finally.

All fics have their own warnings but it’s best not to read if you are under 18.

Thanks for all having a browse peoples.

Dave York:- Cherry Kisses

Dave York:- The Good, The Bad & The Naughty

Javi Gutierrez:- The Bartender & The Billionaire

Marcus Pike:- Pike & Prejudice

Max Phillips:- The Forever Solstice

Silva:- Refreshing

Dieter Bravo:- The Drinks Break

Frankie Morales:- Bea-ch Day

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #over18 #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal universe #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal fic

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 38

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

The Spreadsheet is back! Welcome to my not-so-weekly fic rec list. This is everything I've read since the last time I did this (I think). They're in alphabetical order (I think) by Pedro Boy.

I'm being even more lazy than I usually am and not including the tags, just the summaries, so be careful and look at the tags! Any commentary from me is in green.

Sight - a Dave one shot by @goodwithcheese - A surveillance job offers Dave a distraction. - there are other one shots in this universe I also highly recommend. You can find them >here<

Forget My Charms - a Dave one shot by @joelscruff - your new boss gives you a memorable first day

Work Song- a Dave one shot by @eupheme - Work Song + Dave York - this was for my hozier drabble challenge and it's so good!!

Sedated - a Dave one shot by @luxurychristmaspudding - you and dave are no strangers to this business, to death. so there can be no harm in relying on each other in times of need.

Hold Please - a Dave/Javi P/ Marcus P series by @ghostofaboy - Dave decides to arrange a little get-together for him, Javier and Marcus. - m/m/m!!!

Memories - a Dieter one shot by @bitchesuntitled - What happens when your husband, Dieter, forgets who you are?

You're the Loss of My Life - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters - You reminisce on your time with your riduur after his death. - ow

[Sin]ema - a Frankie one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - You are unhappy in your marriage but trying to hang on. When you ask your husband to spend more time with you, he thinks a movie date is in order. You don't expect to run into your ex fiance, Frankie, and his new wife there.

Sun to Me - a Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - Javi wakes up early to do chores, but can’t peel himself away from you just yet.

Sunlight - a Joel one shot by @lotusbxtch - Joel Miller has avoided love, pushed it away at the first sight to stay in the darkness. But then he meets you, and he wonders if he was wrong after all.

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun - a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes - Storm chaser-turned-weatherman Joel Miller hunts down his old crew in an effort to serve his wife with divorce papers. When a storm interrupts his efforts, he finds himself falling back into old routines and old feelings. A Twister (1996) AU

Delicate - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters - You play with Joel’s hair during a moment of anguish.

Pull - a Joel one shot by @javier-pena - You discover something new about Joel.

Should've Stayed Bored - a Joel one shot by @pedroshotwifey - You really need to learn to lower your expectations. - this fic is hilarious

Nephilim - a Joel series by @cherubispunk - Joel Miller was something of a biblical figure to you. A small glimpse into the past of something archaic, untold, and harbouring on the dangerous. You liked to imagine him as one of the Nephilim. A son of god, offspring borne of a fallen angel and man. A giant of misunderstood nature. Who’s soul had been cast down on earth in punishment. His large hands had bloodshed on them, or so people had said. They whispered it quietly in the spaces between. The places he didn’t occupy often. But he was always on your mind…so there was no place for those whispers there.

Nicest Thing - a Joel series by @schnarfer - Let's fall madly in love with neighbour!Joel

Observations - Joel one shot by @ezrasbirdie - You're not like the other girls, but it'd be easier if you were. Joel Miller doesn't see it that way. - neurodivergent reader!!!

God is a Woman - Max Phillips one shot by @wheresarizona - Max Phillips has been trying to fuck you since the moment you met. It surprises him when you want to fuck him. (Or pegging Max Phillips) - y'all already know how i feel about pegging fics.

It Will Come Back - a Max Phillips one shot by @beskarandblasters - Against your better judgment, you let Max drink your blood. - another amazing entry for my hozier drabble challenge!

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #Dieter bravo fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #max phillips fanfiction

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 9k

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink

additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!

a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀

edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist

Joel was lonely. 

He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college. 

Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.

But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like. 

Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name. 

Ravish 

Ravish 

Ravish 

It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was. 

Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen? 

Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard. 

JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him. 

He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps. 

“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.” 

Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most. 

While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later. 

Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug. 

Liked! Added to your queue for later.

Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore. 

Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself. 

Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet. 

Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks. 

Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop. 

“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!” 

“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I’m ready to put on a show.” 

“Patience everyone.” 

“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .” 

Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—

He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor. 

Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . . 

His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out. 

“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?” 

Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles. 

“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.” 

Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible. 

He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again. 

“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.” 

What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet. 

He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got. 

Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it. 

Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal. 

“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.” 

Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.” 

A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good. 

“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.” 

Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone. 

Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm. 

“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?” 

Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias. 

“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?” 

Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.” 

With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud. 

“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.” 

You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter! 

A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come. 

He wants them to come at the same time. 

Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up. 

Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera. 

“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time. 

She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet. 

He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes. 

“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”  

Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor. 

His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release. 

 Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop. 

“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline. 

Good girl. 

Joel is a weak weak man. 

Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him. 

Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling. 

Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets. 

Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious. 

He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little. 

And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her. 

He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat. 

Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable. 

The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly. 

A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.  

“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?” 

He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look. 

“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.” 

Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice? 

“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?” 

His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively. 

“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.” 

You always call me that. Why?  . . .  Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean. 

Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.”  she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.” 

 Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks. 

“Can—Can you hear me?” 

Her eyes sparkle. 

“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.” 

She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?” 

“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?” 

There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.” 

“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.” 

Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.” 

“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”

“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.” 

She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?” 

Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement. 

“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?” 

“Would you laugh if I said no?” 

“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily.  “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?” 

Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.” 

Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.  

“Anything that you like, sir?” 

“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—” 

“The heart-shaped ones?” 

Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.” 

“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?” 

“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.” 

“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.” 

Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples. 

Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch. 

“Are you touching yourself, sir?” 

“Yea.” 

“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.” 

She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted. 

His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?” 

Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it. 

“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.” 

“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?” 

Fuck. 

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword. 

But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough. 

“Harder.” 

She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release. 

She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders. 

It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it. 

“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.” 

“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?” 

“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.” 

“P-Pillow?” 

She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.” 

“Shit, say that again.” 

“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—” 

She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat. 

“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.” 

With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?” 

“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight. 

“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.” 

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him. 

The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips. 

“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.” 

Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking. 

“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.” 

You hate visiting home. 

You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.

Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of. 

JMiller. 

You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again. 

You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online. 

You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood. 

Of course he did, he was perfect. 

Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late. 

Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you. 

Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line. 

“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.” 

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.” 

“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.” 

He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.” 

“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull. 

You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind. 

“You know what—” 

“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”  

You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice. 

The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you. 

“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?” 

You’re not but you kinda wish you were. 

“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.” 

The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after. 

“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.” 

He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor. 

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters. 

You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale. 

“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask. 

“You don’t have—” 

“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?” 

“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.” 

The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment. 

Your rake your brain for answers. 

Why? 

Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle? 

His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.” 

“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.” 

You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow. 

“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.” 

Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.” 

“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.” 

Oh shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

It is him. 

JMiller—J stands for Joel. 

Fuck. 

“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .” 

He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.” 

“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.” 

“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.” 

“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.” 

Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that. 

Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Technically you bought it.” 

“Right. . .” 

The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” 

You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.” 

He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction. 

After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself. 

He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice. 

It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask. 

“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.” 

“Ask away.” 

“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss. 

“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward. 

He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods. 

“Is that okay?” 

This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

His grin is infectious. 

“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.” 

You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home. 

The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had. 

He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company. 

You found it incredibly charming. 

As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too. 

Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall. 

“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.” 

Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.” 

You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall. 

Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs. 

“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .” 

“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.” 

You gasp, “P-Please.” 

He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze. 

He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled. 

Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock. 

“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—” 

Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face. 

Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—

“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!” 

A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper. 

“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—” 

You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing? 

“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.” 

Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs. 

“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.” 

He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean. 

Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing. 

“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild. 

When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth. 

“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.” 

“You really had low expectations, huh?” 

“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.” 

“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.” 

You smile, heart fluttering. 

“Me too.” 

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