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mrsquill · 6 months

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Never knew how much I needed biker!Joel till now 🫠🤌🏻 this is gorgeous. I love how tentative and careful he is with her, and his protectiveness?!? Hits different 😭 I wasn’t expecting him to braid her hair, soft!Joel really gets me in the gut. Beautiful writing!

"a minute from home"

biker!Joel x f!reader no outbreak au

cw: creepy date, reckless driving, tommy kinda cockblocks, soft joel, idk a/n: why can't i write something short lmao. anyway this was just a thought i had when i saw a silverfox with a motorbike and was too shy to ask if i could go for a ride with him, so i wrote this instead. kinda juvenile but you love it wordcount: 3k

The chill air of the evening brushes your skin as you push open the door from the restaurant. You’ve been swallowing the lump in your throat all evening, but the second you reach the parking lot outside you can’t hold back anymore, and a sob escapes your throat as you heave for air.

Through watery eyes, the city lights become a blurry haze. You get a glimpse of a gang of bikers outside the diner down the street as you look around to see if Colin has followed you outside. You don’t have time to assess before he grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Where are you going?” His voice is harsh, demanding. “I paid for your meal and you’re just gonna run off? You think I’m some kind of charity or something?”

He stands too close, looking down at you, holding onto your arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Everything alright here?” A dark voice suddenly booms from behind you. It’s one of the men from the small group of bikers.

“Yeah, mind your business,” your date replies, pulling you towards him.

“Wasn’t talkin’ to you,” the leather clad man says as he steps towards you both. He’s looking at you, trying to meet your teary gaze as you whisper a “yes”.

“What’s that?” He asks again, hands on his hips. He’s bigger than Colin, and while he could probably take him out, he could take you out too, and you’re not sure who you’d rather be alone with: your terrible date or a strange man with a motorcycle.

But something about his presence, the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel safe.

“I just wanna go home…” you muster in a low voice.

“Alright. And is this guy gonna take you home?”

Colin is still holding onto your arm, but his grip is loosening now. Both men are looking at you, waiting, while you’re looking at the ground, not able to form a single word even though your body is screaming resistance.

But then you lift your gaze to what you hope is your rescuer, and you don’t have to say anything for him to read between the lines. The answer is “no”.

“Right,” the man says, and takes a step towards the other guy. He’s holding a hand out, carefully nudging at him. “Why don’t you run off, mister, leave the lady alone.”

He refuses to move, but lets go of your arm and staggers a little as the biker’s hand pushes him.

“She’s literally my date, dude. Why don’t you run off.” His voice is nowhere near as confident as when he was alone with you, and the pitch a little higher, but it might just be compared to the other’s heavy bass of a voice.

“I don’t think so, man.” The biker moves seamlessly in between you and your date, and you’re suddenly hidden behind his broad back.

You look behind you, and see that the rest of the bikers are paying attention, and they all look ready to pounce if anything escalates.

Colin takes a few steps backwards, trying to get a look at you, but failing as the broad man moves to block his view. When he still doesn’t back off, the broad man takes a step towards him, and Colin finally steps back.

“Do you even know this guy?!”

Colin’s talking to you now, backing away. When he gets no response, you hear him huff, and his footsteps disappear. It’s a few more seconds before the man turns to face you.

He takes a step back, giving you space, and you finally get a good look at his face.

Dark eyes are boring into you, seemingly looking for any signs of injury. His lips are plush for a man his age, the streaks of gray in his hair giving him away as at least 50, but the scars across his crooked nose and his temple could be making him look older.

Salt and pepper stubble give him a rugged look, which paired with the leather jacket and biker boots would have been too much, but the concern in his eyes softens him up just enough to not be scary.

“You okay?” he asks, eyes still on yours. You nod in response.

“Gonna need some verbal confirmation, sweetheart.”

You clear your throat, not realizing until now how dry your mouth is, and give him a weak “yes”. He nods back at you, looking back to his gang.

“Alright,” he begins. “I understand you not wantin’ to go off with a strange man right now which you shouldn’t normally, but my friend Maria and her husband Tommy are right over there, and I’d like to ask Al at the diner to fix you up with something to drink.”

The words still don’t come to you, and you just stare at him.

“Somethin’ sugary, for the shock.” And then he adds: “A nod’ll do here.”

And you do. You nod, and he gestures to the diner behind you, which you walk towards together. He makes sure to keep a distance, walking next to you instead of behind so you can see him in your periphery at all times.

The woman, Maria, stretches a hand out to you, and you take it.

“You alright, honey?” You nod for what feels like the tenth time in a minute. She gives you a warm smile, and the mustachioed man, which must be her husband, smiles as well.

Maria caresses your arm as he points to the man who saved you. “That’s Joel.”

Joel gives you an affirming nod as he leans over to the other man, whom Maria tells you is Tommy. He leans in and whispers something in his ear, and Tommy heads inside the diner.

The woman’s hand on your arm calms you down, and it seems she can sense it.

“You’re safe here, sweetie. You’re safe with us.”

Your eyes meet hers and she's smiling warmly. She’s probably right, and you do feel safe, but you’re still a little shaken up. Colin had paid for your meal, but you’d been too uncomfortable the whole time to eat much, and your low blood sugar is starting to make you a little dizzy.

As if on cue, Tommy emerges from the diner carrying a cup with a straw and a paper bag. He holds them out to you. You look at him quizzically, and reach your hands out to grab the items from him. He nods, and goes back to stand next to Joel, who is leaning on his motorbike, arms and ankles crossed in front of him.

You’re left clueless for a second, looking from the cup to the bag, before Maria takes the cup from you so you can open the bag. The bag is warm and greasy, and peering into it you smell the french fries before you see them. Suddenly nothing has ever seemed more appetizing than greasy deep fried potato wedges, and you shove a handful of them into your mouth at the same time, washing them down with a big gulp from the cup Maria hands back to you, which turns out to be filled with strawberry milkshake.

The relief is immediate, and you take a deep breath as you let the much needed calories reach your system. When you look to your liberator to thank him, he’s looking down at his boots, kicking at a crack in the asphalt. So instead you look to Tommy, who is already looking at you, smiling the same warm smile as before, and you breathe out a “thanks” between eager gulps. He nods, and looks down just like the man next to him.

Joel clears his throat, and you take it as your sign to get out of their hair.

“Thank you,” you repeat, as you crumple the top of the paper bag in one hand and wipe the other on your skirt. “For this and…” you lift your drink and nod towards the parking lot where you were rescued earlier. “That.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, finally looking up for you, lifting the corners of his mouth slightly. “‘course.”

Your eyes lock. For a moment it feels as if he’s looking straight through you, and you really believe that standing up for you was no big deal to him.

The silence is broken as Tommy claps his hands together. “So!” he says, looking between the two of you, landing on you, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get you home.”

You’re taken aback, you didn’t expect them to do you any more favors. “Oh that’s okay, I can get myself home! You guys have already done enough for me tonight.”

“How?” Joel’s question is accusatory.

“How what?”

“How’re you gettin’ yourself home?”

“The… bus?” You try, worried there’s a wrong answer. There is, and you just gave it.

He shakes his head. “No way.”

“Yeah,” Tommy adds. “We’ll take you home. We’re just riding around anyway, it’s no big deal.” He turns to Joel. “You’ve got Sarah’s helmet, right?”

Joel gives a singular nod. “Shouldn't be walking alone this time a’night anyway,” he says, more to himself, as he fiddles with the extra helmet strapped to the backrest of his bike.

As you watch his competent fingers loosen the strap and put down the extra pair of footrests, you catch yourself wondering if Sarah is the woman waiting for him at home, and why she isn’t riding with him. Maybe she’s too scared. Unlike you, because you’re not scared, you unconvincingly lie to yourself.

Pushing the nerves aside, another feeling interrupts your thoughts, and you can suddenly see Joel up against a wall with you, where the warmth of his electric touch sends shivers down your spine. His proficient fingers exploring every inch of you–

Shaking off the idea, you down the last of your milkshake, throw the cup into a nearby bin, and walk up to Joel and his big gray motorbike.

Maria jumps effortlessly onto the back of Tommy’s, where he’s already sat. Joel holds out the helmet to you, and you grab it cautiously as he goes to put on his own. Sensing your insecurity, he puts it down again and takes yours back from you. He shoves it under his arm as he delicately brushes your hair behind your ears.

“Got a hair tie or something?” he murmurs. “Gets windy.”

You nod, taking the scrunchie off your wrist and pulling your hair together to put it into a ponytail, but Joel shakes his head, and indicates with his finger for you to turn around.

Gathering your hair in his hands, he divides it neatly into three sections and starts braiding them loosely together. His fingers in your hair makes the images return, and you catch yourself wishing he would pull it. But he’s careful and soft as he finishes, quickly caressing the top of your head to smooth the hairs down, and he reaches his hand over your shoulder for you to place the hair tie in his palm.

After securing the braid, he taps your shoulder to make you turn back to him, and he carefully pushes the helmet onto your head, making sure not to pinch your skin as he fastens the buckle under your chin.

“Ever rode on one of these before?” he says as he squeezes your shoulder and turns to put his own helmet on. You shake your head. You’ve never really been interested in trying either, the only experience you have with motorbikes coming from rolling your eyes when someone revs one up and down your street too late at night.

He reaches his hand out to you, and gently holds it while you throw your leg across the seat, helping your feet find the footrests. Then he seats himself in front of you, and he’s suddenly between your legs. “You just slide down a bit,” he urges you, and reaches behind him to softly guide your arms around his waist. “And hold on tight.”

“Where to?” Tommy yells from behind you. You tell him which part of town you live in, and Joel nods once before he kicks the kickstand and turns one of the handles causing the motorcycle to roar to life. It’s the same sound you’ve spent nights complaining about, but this time it’s different.

The roar of the motor makes the seat shake under you, and you automatically close your legs together around Joel. Feeling your thighs clench around his own, he stretches out a hand behind him again to give your knee a quick comforting squeeze.

The bike stutters slowly forwards, Joel using his feet to move it. It’s vibrating violently between your legs, and you suddenly become very aware of the jeans covering Joel’s hips rubbing against the skin of your inner thighs.

As you glide out on the road, the vibrations from the grumbling motor move through your body to your head, and you feel like you’ve just been hit by a nicotine rush. Except it’s not nicotine, it’s adrenaline rushing through you where you’re sitting on a motorcycle with a stranger, in the middle of traffic with no seatbelts or doors or walls to protect you. Only Sarah’s helmet.

Your hands clench around the soft leather of Joel’s jacket, and you shut your eyes tightly. The visor protects your face from the wind, but you can still feel your eyes water, and you’re not sure why. When you turn your head to the side and finally look, you’re met with a blur. You must be going at least 75 miles per hour, not even on a highway, and the speed makes it impossible for your eyes to focus on anything you drive past.

Even though it’s summer, the wind is freezing at this speed, and the skin on your legs and hands feels frozen. For a second you regret not wearing tights or anything, but why would you, you’d shaved your legs today, and wasn’t exactly expecting this to happen.

You’re not sure why you trust this man, but you do, so you let yourself relax a little bit, trying to enjoy the feeling of flying down the road with him. Without loosening your grip around Joel’s waist, you lean back a little so you can see more.

To your surprise you’re almost home already, and you’re almost disappointed when the motorcycle slows down and turns onto your street. You let one of your hands move to your driver’s arm and tap it lightly to let him know he’s at the right house.

He swerves into your driveway, Tommy following close behind. Maria is off before you’ve even managed to move your hands from Joel’s waist. He pulls out the kickstand with his foot, and Maria grabs your hand when the bike tilts slightly. Joel gets off before you, and takes your other hand. You hadn’t realized how hard you’d been clenching every single muscle in your body, and you wobble as you manage to get off.

"Careful, honey," Joel murmurs quickly as he steadies you. His hand must be just as cold as yours, maybe colder, because it feels almost warm in yours. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, his eyes fixed on you, giving you the same look as earlier, looking for signs of damage.

Tommy walks up and puts a hand on Maria’s shoulder, and she grabs it casually.

"Alright," he almost yells, interrupting your little moment, and you both look up. "You feelin’ okay?"

You nod. You are. "Thank you," you say to all of them, Maria and Tommy nod and smile politely, and your eyes land on Joel, who is looking around. He sniffs quickly, running a hand over his stubble and clears his throat, before he meets your eyes. "Thank you," you repeat, and you think he understand you don’t just mean for getting you home.

"Yeah," he replies, shyly. "I’ll, uhm…" He gives Tommy a quick glance, who responds with taking Maria with him back to their bike. "I’ll walk you in. F’you want."

The silence is thick with expectation as you walk together the few steps to your front door, and your hands shake as you struggle to unlock it. Joel comes to the rescue for the third time that night, saving you from your date, getting you home, and now having to help you get into your own house. You give him a grateful but embarrassed smile as his turns the key in the lock without any struggle, but he just pushes the door open for you without any judgement.

Leaning on the doorway you try to decide on how to end the night, and it must be the adrenaline still in your veins that causes you to say what you say.

"Do you wanna… come inside? For a drink, or something?"

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, and you swear you see a subtle smile before he speaks.

"I’m drivin’."

You almost roll your eyes at your own stupidity. Of course he’s driving, he just drove you home.

"Right," you grimace, and he chuckles back at you, which you only hear, because your eyes are fixed on your doormat, embarrassed.

"But, uhm…" he continues unexpectedly, and you look up at him.

"F’you ever need a ride…" He shrugs. "Or anythin’. You know where to find me."

You nod before your mind catches up. "Wait, where?"

"Al’s diner," he clarifies, another grin making a quick appearance on his face. "Right," you chuckle again. "The diner."

Something suddenly startles you both, and you realize it’s Tommy starting the motorbike. He revs the motor to get Joel’s attention, who turns to look, and takes a few steps backwards.

"Like I said," he says as he turns to leave. "If you need anything…"

You watch his broad form make his way back down your driveway towards the big motorcycle. Your stomach makes a jump as he straddles it, and right before he pulls his helmet down over his head you swear you see him wink at you.

#need to be on the back of this man’s motorbike so bad #he fits it so well #joel miller #fanfic

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mrsquill · 6 months

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Much has been said about this scene I know, but I'll say it again, I love this scene, Din renounces his creed and everything he believes in by taking off his helmet so he can find Grogu, his son. If this isn't love, what is? This moment made me fall in love with Din.

Also, this moment along with the moment of Din saying goodbye to Grogu made me fall in love with Pedro, which led me to all the wonderful people I've met thanks to this fandom.

Happy Mando Monday, this is the waaaaah

#HELLOOOOOO BROWN EYES 😭😭😭#this is the wahhhhhh #din djarin #the mandalorian

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mrsquill · 6 months

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hi mimi ily and your theme is gorgeous and so are you just wanted to let you know okay byeee 🤍

Hi baby 🥺💘 that’s so lovely of you omg!!! It took me ages to get it right lmao. I love you & feel the same goddamn way about YOU!

#cutest #replies

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mrsquill · 6 months

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I’ve read everyone saying that he looks kinda sad and tired in the photos of last night and I’m really concerning over here. I hope he’s doing good and well🥺🥺

Also someone said he had to get ready for tomorrow’s event in New York??

i see it and i get it but i don’t think we need to be concerned :) yeah, sarah paulson’s being honored at a theatre gala tomorrow in nyc, which i suppose we’re all assuming he will be attending, but nothing’s confirmed! let’s send good vibes out there, and make sure we’re not getting too affected by how this man may or may not be doing. he’s got his gang to do that. i say with love! ♡

#ummm this is perfect actually #pedro pascal

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mrsquill · 6 months

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joel being ellie’s ladder

#just father daughter things #i KNOW that second one hurt his back lmao #actually can’t tell if that’s a stunt double or p??#joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us

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mrsquill · 6 months

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❤️🎄☃️ manifesting we get through the holidays without anymore discourse ☃️🎄❤️

#.#lmao

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mrsquill · 6 months

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TW England but that video of Pedro saying you lil radge packet will always send me lmaoooo he said that with FEELING 😭💀

#he nailed it fr #pedro pascal

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mrsquill · 6 months

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JOEL MILLER EP1 SUPREMACY!!!!

I’ve literally said it forever. He will always be famous 😭🤌🏻 all shorter silver curls and shoulders in that fucking denim. Dorito shaped lover boy!

ep 1 joel is soooo top tier i’m sorry, something about the shorter haircut squaring his head out So Nicely, the gray strands causing little multicolored swirls in his hair and the dirt on his cheeks and how Big he looks in that denim shirt like wow

that’s the one

he is The One

like yeah young joel can most definitely set up sarah for a little play date so he can have a play date with me

but mr. qz? that’s my big meanie and i wanna hold his dirty hands sorry

#you’re so right rose and you should fucking say it #joel miller

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mrsquill · 6 months

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THE LAST OF US S01E02: Infected | dir. Craig Mazin

#joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us

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mrsquill · 6 months

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SDLN HIVE RISE!!!!!!! 😭🤌🏻

SDLN 15 🥹 so precious, i love this series so much

especially the line: “I think your big sister was just sayin’ hi, pretty girl.” i CRIED 😭

You are not the only one 🥺

I got photographic evidence of @swiftispunk doing the same thing, as well as voice memo evidence of @mrsquill and @the-ginger-hedge-witch and a real life testimony from me, who very much cried while writing that section!

To think of his daughter living through his next child is so...soothing and yet painful, and I really loved digging into those emotions this chapter. More of it to come, as we continue to heal this man!

#you always make me cry babe #in the best way #cuz i fucking love u

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mrsquill · 6 months

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Just checking in for my monthly little sleepover with this fic 🥲🤌🏻

Hello! If you’re taking requests currently (if not I apologize), but I have one that’s eating away at my brain. Joel and a reader with nipple piercings. Thanks and I love you and your writing 💓💓💓

flesh and metal | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 2.4k summary: [no outbreak] porn no plot. you meet joel at a bar. he really likes your nipple piercings. that's about it. warnings etc: smut, oral (m receiving), mild hair pulling, a lot of spit, face fucking, titty fucking, nipple play, coming untouched, nasty dirty blowjob bc i said so, joel miller is a boob man. no use of y/n. a/n: i wanted this to be longer but alas, my brain so said no. dedicated to @mrsquill.

You have absolutely no qualms over telling men to "fuck off" at the bar.

Most nights, you're content to drink alone, or else enjoy the company of friends, staving off unwanted attention with an errant flick of your wrist or something a little more stern, if necessary.

Of course, then there are nights like tonight. Nights where you leave the house with intention, hoping to nab a beautiful stranger on your own terms. When you'd donned your short denim skirt and thin white camisole, flesh and metal poking through the delicate fabric, you'd known the message you'd been sending. You'd known what you'd wanted.

Tonight, it had started with a drink. Doesn't it always start with a drink? You'd already turned down a couple of willing suitors, men you may have otherwise settled for if you'd only been able to take your eyes off him all night. In his forties or fifties - you can't be sure - broad and strong, all greying curls and deep brown eyes. He'd taken up an entire booth to himself, nodding offhandedly to passing servers and patrons. Dark plaid had strained over wide shoulders and big hands had clutched a crystal glass of bourbon. And those eyes - they'd just kept finding yours.

You hadn't been waiting for a cue, but you'd been grateful when he'd offered one, cocking his chin for you to join him after you'd downed the tequila shot the bartender had informed you had come from, "the fella in the booth over there."

He hadn't said much but he hadn't needed to; all the usual tells had been there. All the lingering stares and polite compliments. And your favourite, of course, the one most men fall victim to - the one where their eyes flit down to your chest, noticing the nubs of steel poking through your shirt on the peak of each of your breasts, the gears turning in their brains as they ask themselves all the usual questions:

Do they make her nipples more sensitive?

Does she like when someone sucks on them?

Will she let me?

And he'd find out soon enough, but the answers are yes, yes and yes.

"Wanna get outta here?" he'd asked before he'd even finished his drink, when all you'd parsed from him was his name - Joel Miller - and the fact he'd been there on a rare night out. Maybe for the same reason as you.

It's how you end up here, crowded up against the wall of his front entry while his mouth devours yours, his massive hands greedy where they grab at your arms and waist. His touch is certain and forceful when his fingers coil around the base of your throat to press your skull into the drywall, giving him free rein to explore your neck with his lips and teeth.

He's not slow. He's not patient. When his thigh invades the space between your legs, you grind your clothed heat into it and he doesn't stop you.

His lips find yours again and you charge your kiss with new fervor, all wild, hungry energy when you bite down on his plush bottom lip and he groans into your mouth.

"God, you're so fuckin' hot," he rasps, one hand moving lower to hike your skirt up over your thighs. "Wanted you like this all night."

There's a deliciously dark edge to his voice that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. You can tell already -

This man is going to give you exactly what you need.

"Me too, Joel," you sigh, clutching at the sides of his face to reconnect your mouths, speaking through heated kisses. You waste no time, reaching between your bodies to run your fingers over the bulge in his jeans. "I want this."

Joel growls, low in his chest, and then he's pulling back, tilting your face upwards with a firm hand on your chin.

"Open for me?" he requests and there's just a hint of doubt there - almost as if he's testing the waters, gauging just how willing you are to yield to him.

And you are so, so fucking willing.

You glance up at him, batting your lashes as you loosen your jaw, presenting your tongue for him without hesitation.

Two thick fingers are taking up your mouth then and his gaze darkens as he watches you close your lips around them instinctively, eyelids fluttering shut. His skin tastes like salt and leather.

Joel's mouth twitches into a smirk.

"That's good, honey," he says. "Dirty little thing, aren't you?"

You just nod and suck until Joel bring his fingers, coated with your spit, to the apex of your thighs, shoving the thin fabric of your underwear aside to rake them over your folds.

He catches your responding gasp with his mouth, licking between your parted lips as his fingers toy sloppily with your clit. He hums in approval when you melt into the wall, already dripping wet and weak for him.

"Take your shirt off," he orders, his fingers still working your clit as you lift the fabric over your head. You keep your eyes on him, watching his pupils widen as his gaze falls to your breasts, those gears in his brain turning all over again when he sees them bare -

The metal bars that pierce each pebbled nipple, shining in the dim light of his living room. He curses lowly and then it's as though he forgets your pussy altogether, both his hands suddenly overtaking your tits, big palms cupping the flesh there while his thumbs experimentally flick over the piercings.

And - fuck - it never gets old how fucking good that feels.

You moan, a high-pitched, keening sound, revelling in the feel of those calloused thumbs skirting over soft skin and hard metal. Your pussy pulses between your legs, wetness gathering and pooling at your centre, staining his dark jeans. Unconsciously, you grind into his thigh, seeking friction where you need it most, while Joel, engrossed in his efforts, suddenly tweaks each pierced nub between two fingers, tugging curiously at the bars and making you cry out in a mixture of pain of pleasure.

"Shit, yeah, you like that?" he asks and before you can answer, he does it again, clouding your thoughts till there's only him and the rough drag of his thumbs over your nipples, the grinding friction of denim against your aching cunt. He chuckles darkly at you falling apart for him, easily folding when he grits out, "You gonna let me fuck you?"

You nod, overtly eager, and then he's guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom, stripping you out of your skirt the second you're through the door, exposing your lacey black panties beneath.

Rough hands grip your waist and pull you into his chest, Joel's mouth crushing yours in another commanding kiss. He's a good kisser, you think, greedy and indulgent, messy in the best way. His hands find your tits again, pinching and prodding at your pierced nipples - fascinated. He likes them, you note; can't seem to keep his hands off them.

You love that.

You're so lost in his touch and his kiss that you barely notice the backs of your knees hitting the edge of his bed until he wrenches his mouth free from yours, that firm grip on your waist pushing you down so you're seated and staring up at him.

"Right there, baby, you sit right fuckin' there," he instructs you as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock, hard and leaking and right at your eye line.

"Show me that mouth."

You part your lips without a second thought, staring up at him as he guides the tip of his cock into your waiting mouth, groaning as he presses his hips forward hastily, impatient.

Perfect.

He takes a moment there, softly cups your face in his massive palm, traces a thumb over your cheekbone. Sweet, for a just a fleeting breath.

"Gonna fuck your pretty little face, okay?" he tells you.

Fuck - yes.

You moan around him and it seems to egg him on; a hand curls into the hair at the back of your head and you let him hold you steady as he begins to fuck your face in slow, agonizing thrusts. The tip of him collides with the back of your throat on each stroke, his impressive girth straining your jaw. Coarse hairs brush at your upper lip each time he pushes in deep and your throat opens obligingly to take him.

"Keep it open real fuckin' wide for me," he says as unwitting tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You hum contentedly, slackening your jaw as much as you can and Joel moans lewdly, the pace of his thrusts coming faster, rougher, now that he knows you can take it. You work to breathe through your nose as you choke and splutter around his cock, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and soaking his length. Salt streams from your eyes and you gasp for air when he eventually pulls you off him with a firm hand in your hair and a wrecked growl.

"Fuck me. Get it nice and wet for me," he orders you, even as thin strings of saliva connect your lips to his cock. Still, you do as he says, fixing your eyes on his as you collect a pool of spit on your tongue and aim it onto his length. You wrap your wet, puffy lips around him and bob up and down till he glistens with you.

"Yeah, there you go. Good girl."

You beam at the praise, sitting back into your hands as you await further instruction. Joel's eyes dart down to your chest again and you think you know what he wants. Sure enough -

"Squeeze those tits together."

You obey without question, arching your back and clutching at the sides of your breasts, tightly pressing them together as Joel inches closer. He reaches out to flick his thumb over a pierced nipple, half-hooded gaze intent on your chest as he spits a slow stream of saliva there, watching as it disappears between the valley of your breasts.

There's a low grunt, a shaky exhale, and then he's wedging his stiff length between your tits. He holds you in place with a solid hand on your shoulder, thick fingers pressing down hard enough to bruise while he slowly fucks your tits. You throw your head back, raking your thumbs over your nipples while you squeeze his cock a little tighter between the swells of your breasts.

"That feel good?" he asks, his low voice strained as he eyes your thumbs working over your nipples. "When you play with 'em?"

You bite your lip and nod because it's true; it feels fucking amazing, those tiny spears of steel heightening every minute sensation just like they always do. Joel murmurs, "Shit," like you've just made him aware of something vital, backing off and dropping to his knees between your legs, barely giving you a chance to catch you breath before he's licking a thick stripe through your soaking folds, his hands shooing yours away to firmly cup your bare breasts.

He moans at the taste of your arousal on his tongue but he doesn't linger there long. No, instead he moves to your chest, sucking a pierced nipple into his mouth and experimentally swirling his tongue over the hardened nub.

He hums in approval at the way it makes you curse and moan and cry his name, relentless as he moves to the other nipple and repeats that pattern - swirling and sucking, swirling and sucking - his massive palms eclipsing the globes of your breasts as he squeezes them tightly together.

You writhe under his mouth, your neglected pussy drenching his sheets and clenching around nothing - but Joel doesn't let up. His tongue flicks over each nipple in deliberate, coaxing strokes. When he bites down, the clanging sound of teeth hitting metal makes your insides curl. White heat gathers in your core as your breathing grows ragged, panted moans rising in pitch and Joel - Joel seems acutely aware of the response.

"Bet you can come just from this, can't you?" he whispers hoarsely.

You shake your head, braced on your elbows. "Need more, Joel. I don't - "

You don't know. Impossibly, it feels like you could come, Joel's tongue insistent over your nipples, the precise laps of his tongue increasing in pace and strength, drawing you nearer and nearer to some impending edge.

"You're close, aren't you?" he purrs, voice low, and the vibrating sensation of his voice against your nipples is downright dizzying. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you fist his sweaty curls, holding his face flush against your chest because -

"Yes."

"I wanna see," he mumbles huskily against your skin. "I wanna see you come like this."

He works his tongue feverishly over each nipple; first one, then the other, over and over, his mouth wide as he licks obscenely over them, fucking shameless with it, lasciviously enthusiastic.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you stammer wildly when he resumes the firm, lithe flicks of his tongue over one, swollen, puffy nipple, flesh straining and wet around glistening steel. Tension pulls taut at your nerves; your cunt aches and slick pools at your centre and before you can even warn him, you're coming, shuddering violently as you arch back into the mattress with a gasp.

How in the fuck?

Your neglected pussy throbs as the unlikely climax washes you in waves of overwhelming heat that's somehow burning hot and perfect and still not nearly fucking enough. You're moaning out a symphony all the same, Joel following you down into the sheets, caging you in as he hovers over you and sucks hard at a nipple, circling the piercing under his tongue until you start to see white.

"Joel - fuck - please - s'too much," you beg, writhing beneath him and clawing at his shoulders till he pulls off your tit with a wet pop. He watches your face closely until he feels you've caught your breath before diving forward to lick a fat stripe over the same nipple he'd just finished with. He smirks devilishly when you squirm away from the contact with a squeal.

"So fuckin' sensitive," he marvels.

He climbs off you at last, tersely telling you, "Up," while he stands to lift his shirt over his head and pull his jeans off.

You think he means on the bed so you quickly move to all fours, positioning yourself ass up for him willingly. Joel laughs as he comes up behind you, assertively smacking the meat of your thigh.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he says. "Wanna see those perfect fuckin' tits bouncin' when you're ridin' my cock."

#i actually still cannot believe this is real.#lmao #joel miller

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mrsquill · 6 months

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thank you so much for answering my question! in that case… considering me sliding on in here with a req if it interests you!!! i just really need to read joel spitting in f!reader’s mouth during sex… like, i rlly can’t stop thinking about it. just food for thought! *flees*

ok what if it was during a reallyyyyyyyy nasty blowjob lol (yes i will use this gif every time i write joel miller blowjob porn)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader word count: ~950 rating: 18+ minors dni warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), spitting, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, one use of the word "cockslut" (oops), light hair pulling

“Focus on me, sweetheart, you focus right here.”

His voice is commanding, fierce, as his thick fingers tighten in your hair, tilting your head back so you’re forced to look up at him.

He smirks down at the sight of you all puffy-lipped, wide-eyed and wrecked below him. He loves you like this, loves how pretty and ruined you look after he's fucked your face, your jaw slack and sore from stretching around his girth, corners of your mouth wet where spit’s leaked over the edges.

“Good girl,” he hums when your eyes meet his. His hand in your hair moves to cradle your face, one of his thumbs sliding between your lips and coercing your mouth open wider for him. He keeps a firm grip on your jaw (“Tongue,” he orders and you present it for him willingly), before bending forward to spit into your waiting mouth, a whimper catching in your throat and echoing in the cavernous space between your parted lips.

“You want this cock, gorgeous?” Joel purrs, clutching the base and guiding the tip onto your outstretched tongue. You can only nod, the weight of Joel’s cock on your tongue stifling any hope of forming the words to answer him.

But Joel is unsatisfied. He pulls back and you moan in protest.

“Ask me for it and I’ll let you have it back, babygirl,” he vows, devilish smile glued to his features as his hand once again finds your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone with tender care as if he hasn’t spent the last ten minutes ravaging your throat with his cock.

“Please,” you croak, voice hoarse and cracked. “Please let me have it, Joel. Let me have your cock.”

“Can’t get enough of it, can you?” he grins, languidly stroking his length right in front of your face, your eyes glazing over when you see precum leaking from the tip, so enticing you could cry. “Such a needy little cockslut for me, aren’t you?”

A quiet, “Mhmm” is the most you can muster, your eyes fluttering closed unwittingly, spent.

“You look at me, darlin',” Joel orders you firmly and your eyes snap open immediately. “You look at me when you’re takin’ my cock.”

You obey, your gaze fixed on his face when he presses himself forward, filling your mouth and hitting the back of your throat in one agonizingly slow thrust. You groan in unison, Joel’s big hands grasping either side of your head and holding you perfectly still as he begins to move in and out of your slackened mouth, your garbled choking sounds harmonizing with his harsh grunts, each snap of his hips making tears sprout at your eyes, tears which quickly spill over and streak down your sweat-veiled cheeks.

When he thinks you’ve had enough, he pulls out entirely, revelling at the way you gasp for air, how streaks of saliva trail over your chin and bottom lip.

“So pretty, baby,” he praises you and your heart pangs at the adoration in his voice, how jarring his sweet, Southern drawl sounds after fucking your face raw. “Love seein’ you on your knees for me, cryin’ for this cock.”

You whine meekly in response, hands in your lap fused together, aching to touch yourself as your pussy drips between your thighs.

Your mouth still agape for him, Joel can’t resist; he spits into it again, barely giving you a chance to react before he shoves his cock between your lips once more. This time, he doesn't move.

“Make me come,” Joel says instead, his hands falling to his sides and giving you free reign at last.

You spring into action with a contented moan, gripping his length with both hands and expertly working your mouth over the tip, just how you know he likes it. Joel rewards your efforts with a raucous groan, his head falling back as he braces himself with a firm hand on your shoulder, his touch an anchoring thing for you and him both.

“Gonna come in that pretty mouth of yours. Yeah?” Joel growls, voice strained with pleasure. You moan around him in response, an obvious “Yes” as your movements grow more frantic, bobbing on him in earnest, pumping him with intent. You know it won’t take long - Joel has impressive stamina for a man his age but he’s been teasing you far too long. You know he wants to come, know he's aching for it.

And you always know just how to do it. You live for it.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Joel huffs, sounding more and more desperate as his words fall from him in quick, rambling waterfalls - a clear tell he’s getting close. “Such a good girl for me, always takin’ my cock so well, so fuckin’ pretty with your mouth on my dick.”

Your eyes flit up and catch his gaze, the curve of your eyebrows pleading. Joel knows what you’re asking for.

“You want my come, pretty girl?” he murmurs gruffly. You keen and nod around him.

“Show me that mouth,” he grunts and you pull off him to part your lips expectantly, opening wide for him again as you maintain the heady strokes of your hands on his length. Joel holds you solidly before him with a strong hand on the back of your head, letting you coax out his release till he’s coming hot seed into your mouth, over your lips and cheeks, cursing noisily as his fingers involuntarily constrict in your hair.

“Right here, sweetheart, right here,” he reminds you, imploring you to look up at him again when you dutifully swallow him down.

#i am once again back reading this fic #han i have never met someone who writes giving head like you #it’s filthy and all-consuming and the way you make him talk is something else #gorgeous gorgeous work #sensational #i want to live inside this fic #joel miller #fanfic

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