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witchy11 · 6 hours

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What's In The Bag? | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Anal Play

Chapter Summary | It's time to explore the one thing on the list you're apprehensive about, but it's okay, because Joel's got a plan to make it easier on you.

Chapter Warnings | Again, porn without much plot. Mentions of alcohol consumption and smoking. Oral sex (f), fingering, anal play & anal sex, squirting, pet names (baby), swearing, mentions of pain during sex, just these two idiots still being in love. No Outbreak AU. No use of y/n.

Word Count | 4.7K

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | I have to admit this was the one I was looking forward to the least.... In my personal life (not that you need to know this) but this is my least favourite thing ever, BUT OH WELL. Here we go anyway, I hope you enjoy it. As always, a huge shoutout to my rock @undercoverpena for reading through this and just being generally a shining star in my life. If you like this then please considering reblogging or commenting, it makes my life worth living! And if you'd like to support me further you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that whilst this is part of a wider series, this can be read as a standalone if you wish.

Beautiful divider by @saradika

I no longer have a taglist, to keep up to date with my work, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

Joel’s lips are pressed softly to yours, palms resting across your back, your own arms wrapped across his shoulders as you open your mouth against his. There are dishes to be cleaned, glasses to be cleared and leftovers put away. Dinner parties always seem like such a good idea, especially when it involves Tommy and his wife, Maria and their new baby. The clean up is always a pain though, so for a moment, you’re glad to be able to take a minute to relax and let Joel distract your mind a little.

You can feel. his hands trail further down, palms resting over the swell of your ass through your jeans. He’s been getting more bold with it recently. He knows it’s on the list but he also knows you’ve been scared to ask for it, which is why, last week, he took matters into his own hands.

Joel open’s the front door to his house, gripping his hand around your waist to keep you steady as you lose your footing a little, the beer starting to settle across you. Not drunk, never drunk, you can’t stand the way it makes you feel the next day, but a little merry perhaps, tipsy.

You head straight for the kitchen, Joel smiles as he hangs his jacket up on the peg in the hallway. It’s a known routine now, the way you run the tap, fill two glasses of water, set one on the side for him, drink yours empty before you refill it, pop two painkillers and drain the second.

He thinks you look beautiful tonight. Not that he doesn’t always, but now, as he stands in the doorway to the kitchen, lets his eyes trail down over your body, it takes his breath away. The way your jeans look like they’ve been painted on, showing off the perfect swell of your ass, the way your legs look when you wear those damn cowboy boots - “I’m dating a Texan now, I gotta look the part.” - you’d whispered into his ear when you’d bought them. The low cut of your top that shows the swell of your tits. Just enough to show people what they could have, but what they were missing because you were his. And he still doesn’t quite believe it, how quickly and how totally he’s fallen in love with you.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He muses, chuckling a little when you turn to him, drops of water running down your chin, eyes wide like you can’t believe he feels that way when you look like this.

You go a little shy, like he knows you do when he compliments you, setting the glass down to walk over to him, arms circling around his middle, head buried in his chest as he clutches you to his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other resting over your spine. You look up at him, then bury your head back in his chest, mumbling, but clear enough for him to hear you.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” You mumble, “So there.”

He can’t help but laugh, moving your chin so he can lean down and kiss you. It’s soft, because he knows you’re both tired. You’d insisted on going to drinks with Tommy and Maria - their first night out since they had their baby a few months ago, baby given to Maria’s parents for the night - all Joel had really wanted to do was take you upstairs and spend hours with you pinned beneath him, something he’d wanted more and more recently, to shut the two of you away and waste hours making each other feel good. He knows you should both go to bed, but when you open your mouth against his, he can’t help but follow, tasting your mouth, the beer on it, the mix of tobacco from the cigarette you’d smoked, something you only do when you drink, and the mint of the gum you’d been chewing on the ride home to get rid of the taste in your mouth.

Joel’s hands drop, sliding down your back, each palm resting on your ass through those jeans as he gently walks you back into the kitchen, pressing you up against the side as he pulls away from your mouth, just a touch.

“I want you here so bad, baby,” He groans, fingers gripping your ass tight through your clothes, you say nothing, just crash your mouth back to his, but God he needs to know you really want it to, so he pulls away again, “You want it too?” His voice is low, breathy, and the way you whimper makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

“I’m scared.” You mumble quietly, eyes focused on the buttons of his shirt instead of his face. That simply wouldn’t do for Joel.

He tilts your face up to look at him, eyes meeting yours, “What are you scared of, baby?”

You give him that look that he loves, one that says ‘are you dumb?’, “You’re so big Joel.”

And he knows it shouldn’t turn him on, but the way you almost whine it at him, he can’t help the growing bulge in his jeans, nor can he help the way he grinds into you a little.

“I know baby,” Because he does, he knows he’s big, been told by enough people to know they’re not just trying to boost his ego, “I’d go real slow,” He whispers, lips ghosting over your ear, “Real gentle with you, warm you up, get you ready.”

“I don’t think it’ll fit.” You pout.

“It’s doesn’t have to fit, baby,” He reassures you, “Not all of it anyway,” He can see the cogs working behind your eyes, “I won’t hurt you baby, I promise, and if you wanna take it off the list, we can,” He moves his hands from your ass now, clutching your face instead, pressing a barely there kiss to your lips instead, “But if you do want to try it, I can think of some ways to make it easier.”

Joel presses another kiss to your lips, stepping back from you a little, waiting for you to decide what you want.

“Okay.”

You’re putting the finishing touches to your hair in the bathroom mirror. Tommy and Maria will be here soon, the chicken is almost done roasting in the oven, and despite knowing already that cleaning up with be a pain, you’re looking forward to it. It’s only been recently that you’ve introduced to Tommy - the delay more your idea than Joel’s - but you like him, and his wife too.

Out of nowhere, Joel appears in the doorway, small black paper bag clutched in his hand. He sets it on the counter but doesn’t mention anything about it, just brushes your hair to the side, presses his whole body against your back, and leaves a trail of hot kisses down the length of your neck.

“What’s in the bag, Miller?” You ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“A present,” He murmurs against your skin, “Open it.”

He doesn’t move his lips from your skin as you drag the bag closer to you. There’s baby pink tissue paper in the top, which you pull out and discard to the side. You tilt the bag a little and let out a gasp when you realise what’s in it.

Joel’s hands grip at your waist as you pull the first item out. A bottle of lube, which you set on the counter wordlessly. You’re far more interested in the other item. You take the box out of the bag and bring it up to your eyeline. It’s a plug. Silver, with a blue jewel at the end. Small enough to not be totally intimidating, but big enough that you know you’ll feel it, and that it’ll make whatever Joel has planned a little easier too.

“Thought it would make things a little easier,” He speaks into the skin of your shoulder, “But we still don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“No,” You insist, shaking your head, “I want to.”

His lips still against your skin, his eyes flying up to meet your own in the mirror again, “Yeah?” He asks, “Well, I have an idea.”

Joel’s hands reach around your waist, deftly unbuttoning your jeans and pulling the zipper down. He starts pulling them down, letting them pool at your knees, material tight enough that they stay where they are, then, he drops to his knees behind you, pulling down the blue lace of your panties to meet your jeans scrunched at your knees. He presses a soft kiss to each of your cheeks before his hands start to grip at your skin.

“How about,” He murmurs, using those big hands of his to spread your ass in front of him, “You wear that through dinner?”

You let out a little gasp when his teeth nip at your skin, right where your ass starts to meet your thigh.

“Y-you want me t-to sit at dinner with your brother with this in my ass?”

“I do,” He replies almost immediately, “Wanna watch you squirm all evenin’, and then when they’re gone, I’m gonna take you to bed and fuck you here too.”

And God, do you want it. Since the conversation in the kitchen last week, he’s been pushing you. When he ate you out on the couch on Monday evening, he let his mouth trail back, tongue lapping gently at your asshole. And then Wednesday night, when he had you on all fours in bed, he’d slipped his thumb inside whilst he fucked you, and you liked it. So your answer to this is a no brainer.

“Please.”

You can feel his mouth move into a smirk against your skin at your whimpered plea.

“Pass me the bottle.”

So you do, set it right in his hand as that mouth trails up, further up, until his lips kiss you right there, tongue darting out to lick a little at the puckered hole, getting you to relax. You can hear him opening the bottle, his mouth pulling off you before you feel one of his fingers come to that tight ring of muscle. The lube is cold, but it’s not unpleasant, as Joel circles it around your hole, gently pushing one of his thick fingers into you.

You whimper, bite down on your lip, his finger moving slowly, in and out of you, as he presses soft, reassuring kisses to the small of your back.

“Give me the plug.”

And you do, obeying him carefully. He unwraps it from the box and you can hear him squeezing more lube out of the bottle. Then, you can feel the cold metal pressing gently against you, but he doesn’t push, just rests it there.

“You want me to stop, you tell me, okay?”

“I will.”

And then he’s pushing it inside of you, slowly and gently, with one of his palms keeping you spread for him. It’s a stretch, clearly much thicker than the fingers Joel has been giving you recently, but to your surprise, you don’t hate it. When he finally pushes it all the way in, both his hands gripping at your ass so he can admire you, you find you actually quite like it.

Joel gets back to his feet, fingers dragging your jeans back up, “How do you feel?”

Your hands come down to do up your jeans before you turn around, Joel’s hands on either side of you on the counter so you’re caged in with his body pressed to yours.

“Feels good,” You smile a little, “Full.”

“Good,” He leans down to kiss the tip of your nose, “Now go,” He moves to let you past him, “We don’t want to burn dinner now, do we?”

Now, stood in the kitchen, with his hands right where you both want him to be the most, slick pooling from your cunt after you’d spent the entire evening sipping wine and eating food, trying not to focus on the fact that you’ve been stuffed full the whole evening, you want nothing more than for him to take you properly.

“Did so well for me baby,” He coos into your ear, “Could see you squirmin’ all night.”

“Joel please.”

“You beggin’ baby?” He teases, “What for? What do you want?”

“I want you,” You breath out, hands clutching at his shirt, “To take me upstairs and fuck my ass.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so fast in your life. Dishes and cleaning up abandoned as he drags you up the stairs. It’s a bit messy when you reach his room, hands flying everywhere to rip off each other clothes, lips moulding together with teeth clashing as you work to get each other naked as quickly as possible.

Once you are indeed both naked, you stand away from each other, chests heaving, excitement pooling in your tummy as he looks at you, eyes dragging up and down your body like he could eat you whole.

“Lie down on your back baby.” He says softly, tilting his head a little.

You do as you’re told, just like you always do and lay your back down against the sheets, feet planted on the edge of the edge, spread out for him. Joel watches as you trail a hand down your body, fingers parting your folds, spreading the slick that’s been pooling there all night, pulling it up to circle your clit as his own fist takes hold of the base of his cock, pumping slowly as he watches you get yourself off.

“You know how good you look when you touch yourself, Joel?” You ask timidly, batting your eyelashes at him a little.

“Probably just as good as you look with your fingers on your pussy right now,” He offers, “Spread your legs wider for me.”

You let your knees drop, exposing your pussy even more for him as he drops to his knees in front of you. He bats your hand away, using the flat of his tongue to drag through your folds, flicking at your clit before he repeats his movements, hands dragging you down a little until your ass is teetering on the edge of the bed as he laps at you properly now, tongue dipping into your aching pussy to drink from you, then trailing up to tease your clit.

His hand his pressed against one of the cheeks of your ass, and you can feel his fingers trailing across, running over the jewel of the plug you’ve had in all evening until those fingers are pushing into your aching cunt, his tongue working over your clit.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me, baby.” He moans into your pussy, fingers hooking up slightly to press into that perfect spot inside you.

Fuck, he’s going to make you come. Embarrassingly quickly too. You’ve been so worked up all night, subtly trying to to rub your thighs together for friction, and right now, the full feeling in your ass, his fingers moving in and out of you and that incredible fucking mouth of his, has your fingers tangling in his hair to keep him right where he is.

“Baby,” You moan, “Oh my God, Joel I’m gonna…” Another moan, higher in pitch this time, “Fuck, gonna come.”

He lets out a moan of permission, maybe it’s a plea to give him what he wants, but whatever it is, it has you hurling over the cliff in what must be record time. Back arching, head pressed into the sheets behind you as you feel your pussy clench around his fingers, thighs clamping around his face as his mouth rides you through the waves of pleasure.

He pulls off you, using his palm to run over his mouth a little as he climbs up your body, pressing those lips to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You can feel his cock, solid and warm, resting at your entrance, and God, it would be so easy to move your hips, take him inside your slick heat and beg him to fill you up. Almost like he can sense it, he pulls away a little, propping himself up on his palms, looking down at you with your kiss swollen mouth and sweaty skin.

“You ready?” He asks gently, to which you nod, “Gotta use those words baby,” He chastises, “Not doin’ anythin’ until you tell me.”

“I’m ready,” It comes out more of a squeak than anything, voice still not recovered from calling his name just seconds ago, “Please Joel, I want you so bad.”

He takes his time moving back down your body, pressing kisses to your neck, sucking your pebbled nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around each, then his tongue is trailing gently down the skin of your tummy, kisses pressed to your mound, one to your clit which makes your body jerk, and because he’s greedy, that perfect tongue swirls softly at your entrance, lapping up the slick he worked so hard to pull from you with his mouth.

He’s pushing you up a little with his palms, manoeuvring you so that he can see the twinkle of that blue jewel right where he knows he’s about to bury himself. He tests the waters, using his fingers to press at it lightly, pushing it a little further, watching from between your legs as you start squirming, hips canting, telling him to get a move on, so he does.

Joel’s fingers are working the plug out of you now, dragging it as slowly as he can whilst watching your face, the way you bite your lip as the swell of the plug slips from you. It’s an odd juxtaposition now, from feeling so full just seconds before, to the emptiness you feel now. It has you shifting your hips, letting out a high pitched whine, hands grappling to reach him.

“Please,” You beg, “Please Joel, I need you so bad.”

He scoots you back on the bed a little, coming to kneel between your thighs, keeping you spread open as much as possible. You reach up, hands coming to find the bottle of lube above your head where he’d obviously thrown it earlier, passing it to him.

Joel smirks a little as he takes it, squeezes some into his hand before languidly pumping it over his cock, fist tight. Then, what’s leftover on his fingers get spread over that tight ring of muscle, his finger gingerly testing to see if you’re ready.

“I’m gonna go nice and slow, baby,” He says gently, bringing the head of his cock to your hole, “One bit at a time, okay?” You nod your head, fingers digging into the skin of the arm that he’s got resting near your head, “You tell me if it hurts or you want me to stop, got it?”

“Yes, Joel, I promise.”

And with that, he’s pressing into your asshole, tip of his cock stretching you out. It hurts, he’s bigger than the plug that’s for sure, but there’s something about this that’s so fucking filthy to you, the way that Joel is finally claiming that very last part of you, the one place no-one but him has taken.

“Jesus fuck, baby,” He moans above you, keeping himself still, letting you get used to him inside you here, and letting himself get used to how fucking tight you are here, “Fuckin’ Christ,” He’s babbling, “Are you alright?”

Your fingernails are digging into the skin of his arm and you’re squirming a little, not sure if you want to squirm away from the feeling or beg him for more, but you think, as much as you can anyway, that you’re okay.

“M’fine,” You breath out, “Just go slow.”

He does, inches himself in a little further. You arch your back a little, but Joel’s free hand comes to rest on your tummy, pressing you back down to keep you still.

“Quit it,” He warns gently, “You’ll hurt yourself with all your damn squirmin’.”

You need some kind of relief though, you need to not just feel full of him, you need to feel him fuck you like he promised.

“Will you just…” You trail off a bit, “Move please.”

You feel him slowly drag him cock out a little, before he slowly moves back in. It feels so different here to how it usually does, but the feeling of him pushing back in, a little further than he had been before has you crying out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, hand flying down to press against his belly to keep him still for a minute.

“I hurt you?” He asks, eyes dark and searching yours for any reason to stop.

“A little,” You mumble, “But it’s fine, I think I like it,” You bite at your bottom lip, “Just don’t go so deep, okay?”

He pulls himself back out a little bit, sitting where he was before, right on the cusp of where it feels really fucking good, “Yeah, right there,” You encourage, “It feels good there.”

Joel smiles down at you, gently pulls his cock as far out of your ass as he can without coming out fully and then pushes back in, watching as your mouth drops open at how good it feels, how full you are of him, “Yeah, fuck Joel, just like that.”

His pace is slow, thrusts shallow, never pushing further than you’ve told him to go. Your fingers digging into his arm are now a result of pleasure more than anything, and as he carries on, speeding up just a tiny bit, you can feel your cunt flutter and clench around nothing, something Joel absolutely doesn’t miss.

“Baby,” He teases, thumb running over the sensitive bud of your clit, “I think she’s feelin’ a little left out.”

As your body softens underneath him, the circular motion of his thumb over you clit helping you to relax even more, you can feel his cock moving a little deeper inside you, and for once, it doesn’t hurt, your cries of his name are from pleasure.

“Put your fingers in your pussy, baby,” He pleads, “We’re going to fill you up properly.”

Your free hand, the one that isn’t clutching at his arm trails down, two fingers slipping easily into your pussy, picking the drag of his cock inside your ass, pushing them in when he does, dragging them out when he does, and God is this more perfect than you could have ever imagined.

You're so fucking full, Joel's body crowding over yours, you can't really explain the sensations you feel, only that you love it and that it's overwhelming and intense. It's everything you wanted, more than you thought you would like it, and it's all made better by the way Joel is looking at you, as if by giving him this, you've hung the moon for him.

“Joel,” You breathe, able to do nothing but watch his face as he looks between you, watching his cock drag out of your ass whilst you’re stuffing yourself full of your own fingers, “Joel, it’s so good.”

“I know, baby, I know,” He breathes, his chest flush and shiny with the same sheen of sweat you can feel across your own body, “I wish you could see how perfect you look right now.”

You can tell this is a struggle for him, not just to hold on and make sure you feel good before he reaches his own climax, but to control himself from going as hard and fast as he knows you like it when he fucks your pussy. The whole feeling is too much for you, the way that your fingers can feel him fucking you as they work in and out of your slick cunt, the way his thumb is so expertly working you to the edge again, just like his mouth did earlier.

“Baby, you gotta come for me,” He pleads, slowly the drag of his cock, “I can’t last much longer, but I wanna feel you come on my cock like this, please.”

“Faster,” You plead, “With your hand Joel, do it faster.”

He gives you exactly what you want, thumb adding more pressure, circling faster, building that familiar rope of tension across your tummy until you can’t hold it any longer. You drag your fingers from your pussy just in time, bearing down until you’re soaking the both of you, arching your back off the bed, inadvertently pushing Joel’s cock further into your ass as you do, but you don’t care as that white hot pleasure bursts across you, body spent and shaking as Joel drags his cock out of you just in time for those hot ropes of his cum to splash across your belly.

He sounds so fucking hot when he comes for you, a litany of swear words, peppered with your name, and the animalistic grunts and groans that you love so much. And he looks even better than he sounds, eyes dark but full of love, plush mouth dropped open as he looks at you, drags his fingers through the mess you’ve both made.

Normally, this would be the moment he would collapse next to you, but he’s running his warm hands down the backs of your thighs, “Are you okay?” He asks timidly, looking down at the mess he’s made - your body painted with his cum and your release, and the spread of your ass that he can see so perfectly now, the one that he’s caused because you trusted him enough to not hurt you.

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, palm to his belly, fingers scratching at the skin lightly.

He takes this as his opportunity to prop himself on the bed, crawling over to sit his back against the headboard, holding his hand out for you. You slide your palm into his, letting him drag you up the bed gently, manoeuvring you both until you’re straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders, the mixture of cum on your lower belly pressing into his skin as his hands come down to rest against the cheeks of your ass.

“I make you sore?” He whispers into your neck.

“Maybe a little,” You answer honestly, “Good thing it’s the weekend and I don’t have to sit in the office.”

“You wanna take a bath?” He asks, “Can put those salts you like in it, might make you feel better?”

You press a kiss to the sweaty skin of his neck, “Will you sit in it with me?” You ask quietly, “I just want to be close to you.”

“Course I will baby,” He speaks softly, somehow managing to shift you to the edge of the bed, “Wrap those legs around me.”

Joel’s holding you up with those palms on your ass, your arms wrapped securely around his shoulders as he carries you to the bathroom. He manages to lean down and flip the taps on, but has to set you down to your feet to put the plug in, but he’s always got a warm hand somewhere on your body, letting you know he’s right there and he isn’t going anywhere.

When the bath is full, steaming hot with salts and bubbles just how you like it, he steps in first, settling down and spreading his legs, helping you with a steady hand to step in and settle down against his chest. It’s quiet, save for the splashing of water, Joel’s hands gathering small drops of water which he lets drip down over your upper body, his other arm wrapped around your middle to press you as close as humanely possible to him.

“I liked that,” He says softly, “Very much.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

“I did too,” You agree, “I didn’t think I would, but it was good.”

“Thank you for trusting me.” Joel murmurs now, lips pressing gently to your temple.

You squeeze his arm a little, “Thank you for loving me and not thinking this silly list is stupid.”

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witchy11 · 6 hours

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witchy11 · 6 hours

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can u believe that Joel Miller’s hands are perfectly shaped to hold my face for 6 hrs….wild

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witchy11 · 6 hours

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Okay. Okay.

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witchy11 · 7 hours

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an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on.

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression.

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand.

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it.

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state.

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap.

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows.

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you.

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches.

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against.

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can.

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…”

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is.

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

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witchy11 · 3 days

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I'm so sorry for spamming ur inbox, but I feel like you're the best at writing Joel and just like, the best person ever? Anyways, I have a feeling that Joel calls his girl some version of mom in bed. I dunno why, but I KNOW this old man calls his little lady mama when he's balls deep. Not that he has mommy issues (which is so debatable) but because he is so FOCUSED on making her a mommy to his chubby lil kids

Sorry for my breeding kink, she be a little outta hand

- 🐏 non

bonny this man has the mommiest mommy issues 😖 but no you’re right its got wank to do with it, he just wants to make you what his wasn’t 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ (a good mama)

MDNI 18+. pre-apocalypse, missionary, bulging + bloating, creampie, use of ‘mama’, breeding kink, slow + sweaty sex 🙂‍↕️

“tha’s it, mama.” he groans against the shell of your ear, hot and husk. he’s arranged you carefully; hips angled to a meticulous pregnable position. “doin’ so well.” his movements are steady, calculated, rhythmic. the knotted hair where his happy trail meets his pubic bush grazes your clit without fail — grinding the hardened swell of nerves each time he sinks his needy cock into you.

“you’ll make a fine mama.” he praises you, kissing his chapped lips from your earlobe to your mouth. “gonna fill up this tummy.” he reaches between you to punctuate the promise with a sensual pat, feeling the head of his cock probing at the lower portion of your bloating stomach.

you whimper, tears welling from the way he gradually drags his cock in and out of your cunt, torturous and deliberate. there’s a slight burn from the friction of his girth massaging your tightness, easing you open a little more with every deep thrust. he draws moan after moan from your whining mouth, his sweat-slickened skin sliding against yours.

with the occasional nip and suckle at the flesh of your neck, he rolls his hips against yours, the base of his cock sandwiching against your gaping hole whilst his pulsating balls — heavy and round — press against your upturned arse where milky juices gather beneath it, making a mess of the sheets.

you’re so full. full of cock, full of cum, full of his child. the mass of spunk he pumps into you plunges through the seams, a creamy sheen lathering his cock. he doesn’t pull out, still burying himself to the hilt, spewing cockhead — raw and engorged — bullying the roof of your cervix, as though he’s trying to breach the narrow canal.

his potent semen is warm and thick within your womb, painting its walls. the sensation of him unloading himself over and over again is an odd one. he’s fucked his cum into you before, but not like this. not to the point that his product leaks from the puckered mouth of your cunny, drooling around the width of his base, matting his dark curls of hair.

“s’good, mama.” he grunts, spinning generous webs into your contracting uterus until he starts to spasm a series of shallow ruts against you, balls emptying. like a male in season, he won’t stop until your cunt has sucked him dry of every drop, stomach already round from his kid.

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witchy11 · 14 days

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I can fix him (no really I can)

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witchy11 · 14 days

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Ruined!

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.

Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.

Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse

Surely he was hurting you now.

Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.

At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.

He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.

Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:

“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”

Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.

Crying, too.

Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.

“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”

Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.

Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.

Almost.

He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.

Almost.

“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”

And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.

“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.

Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.

Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.

He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.

“SON OF A—”

“—good girl.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.

“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.

“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.

“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”

Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.

“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.

Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,

“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”

You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.

“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”

Probably forever.

“Good.”

You knew he liked it that way.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.

“Shit,” you whimpered.

Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.

“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.

Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.

“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.

His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.

And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.

“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”

It was.

More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.

He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’

Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.

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witchy11 · 14 days

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i’ve talked about this before very briefly…but joel being an older man and having a difficulty coming…

and he’s not trying to overstimulate you. he’s not. he had no intention of making you all teary-eyed from making you orgasm so many times.

joel hushing you gently after each time you come and he keeps fucking you. telling you that its okay, sweetheart. you can take it. you can.

and you’re practically sobbing. legs splayed wide open, wrapped around his hips. and his cock is soaked. covered in your slick and come. he’s still hard, still throbbing inside you, still sliding in and out of your used hole. and you just have to take it, take him until he finally comes.

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witchy11 · 15 days

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Stiff (no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader - age gap)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E!!! 18+MDNI

summary: As Joel's getting older, his body isn't working the way it used to. Luckily, you're happy to help him out.

contents: erectile dysfunction, age gap, anxiety, Joel is old (affectionate), m masturbation, oral sex, p in v sex, reader is able bodied but not described, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 2k

a/n: There was a post going around a couple weeks ago about Joel taking a long time to finish as he gets older. Well, I made it worse for him. Sorry to this man. Thanks @ezrasbirdie for betaing and being a slut for Joel even if his dick doesn't work.

...

Joel’s nervous in a way he can only remember from his youth. Back when girls’ bodies were a mystery to him. It’s his own that’s the real conundrum these days.

He’s been seeing you for over a month now and he likes you. A lot. He wasnt sure he would considering Tommy set the two of you up and there were more than a few years between you. Joel hasn’t dated for a while but he’s glad he took a chance on you.

You’re a great girl. Knock out looks. Funny, smart. The kind of woman he wouldn’t mind introducing to Sarah.

Only problem is, one day he’s going to have to fuck you.

Not that he doesn’t want to. He’d love to. He’s thought about it more than he should.

He imagines how warm and tight you’d feel around him as he tugs at himself in the shower. Pictures your pussy swallowing him whole. Sometimes he thinks about what your mouth would feel like, those beautiful lips wrapped around him.

But he’s too chicken shit to do it.

He’s getting up there. 56 years old and his dick doesn’t work the way it used to. It happens every once in a while, no matter how horny he is. Things just go soft.

He’s already self conscious about seeing a younger woman. He’s caught himself examining the grey hairs at his temple before a few dates. Maybe it’s time for some Just For Men. Silver hairs are one thing. He doesn’t think he can withstand the humiliation he’d feel if he couldn't make it to the finish line with you.

The worst part is, you want it. There’s no playing coy with you. You don’t hesitate to invite him back to your place after drinks. You initiate deep, lurid kisses in his truck. You wear slinky lace panties that beg to be seen.

You must think he’s some kind of saint the way he’s insisted on going down on you with no reciprocation. Each time you reach for the fly on his jeans, he demurs.

“That’s alright, darlin’. Just want you to feel good.”

His cock throbs, balls ache.

He wants to do it, to plunge into that pussy he’s made all messy and wet. But he’s terrified he’ll start and find himself dying inside of you, shriveling up like a raisin. Thirty years ago, he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. Now, he’s afraid he can’t keep it up. He’ll never hear from you again when you realize he’s an old man with a limp dick.

Tonight you asked him over to watch a movie. He knew exactly what that meant. It’s been playing in the background for thirty minutes as you climbed into his lap to kiss him. You slide yourself rhythmically across the growing lump in his pants, slow, steady strokes. He can feel the heat of your pussy through the fabric and, fuck, he wants you.

He holds your hips against him so you can get more friction and you moan. You can use him to get yourself off and maybe that’ll be enough.

“Joel, I want you to fuck me,” you breathe against his ear.

“Yeah?” he asks. He’s buying time, trying to think of an excuse.

“Please don’t make me beg,” you whine.

He looks at you, all disheveled and needy. You’ve stripped off your shirt and your bra strap hangs off of one shoulder. Your body feels so soft on his. It’s too much to take. He swallows hard.

“Let’s go to your room,” he says.

There’s more time for preamble once the two of you have changed locations. More kissing to get back into the swing of it, clothes coming off piece by piece.

Joel makes one more last ditch effort to snake between your legs mumbling something about getting you ready. You stop him.

“I’m already soaking for you,” you whine.

He gives up.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks. Maybe you won’t and he can pretend the one in his wallet doesn’t exist.

“You don’t have to. I’m on the pill,” you say.

Joel hates himself. You’ve practically gift wrapped your pussy and put it on a silver platter for him. He should be elated for this.

You sense his hesitation and your brows knit together.

“I’ve been tested. But we can use a condom if you want,” offer like you’re trying to save him the embarrassment of admitting he has a venereal disease.

You look like you’re about to ask him why he’s acting so squirrelly and he’d rather drive off a cliff than say it out loud.

“Nuh uh. I wanna feel all of you,” he says.

Despite his anxiety, it’s true. He’s fantasized about this moment as much as he’s dreaded it.

You recover quickly, giggling with anticipation as Joel settles between your thighs.

In the soft clutch of your cunt, Joel has no regrets. It’s absolute bliss. He’s not sure he’s capable of being anything other than hard inside of you.

“That feel good?” you coo.

“Fuck,” is the only answer he’s capable of.

You clench around him, egging him on, and he lets out a groan. He rolls his hips back and plunges his cock deeper. The heady feeling of being surrounded by you is perfection.

He’s ravenous for you. He buries his face in your tits, grips onto the bend in your knee, bites at your jawline. Each time he denied himself this pleasure has made him exponentially aroused.

The sounds that come from you drive him crazy. Little moans and whines with each thrust. You weave your fingers into his hair and dig your fingernails into his shoulder.

“Take it so good,” he grunts. “Pretty little thing.”

He shouldn’t have waited for this. He should have fucked you every time you opened your legs to him. He should have gotten those pills so he could go on fucking you until you had tears in your eyes.

And then it happens. He keeps driving his hips into you but he can’t reach as deep, isn’t being hugged with that snug fit. First frustration fills him. Then utter humiliation.

You can tell. He knows you can. You’re not making as much noise and when he dares to look at your face, he sees the slightest hint of concern.

He’s sweating from his exertion but a chill runs down his spine. Shame and fear, despair. It feels like the rug has been pulled out from his feet.

“Shit. Need a break,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you respond.

He’s breathless when he rolls off of you. He fists his cock, willing it to spring to attention.

“It ain’t you he insists. You’re— fuck, you’re incredible. Gorgeous.” His head falls back against the pillow as he tries to regain his breath.

He can imagine you having cosmos with your girlfriends, telling them all about the old geezer that couldn’t fuck you porperly.

“I ain’t a young man anymore.”

It feels like another nail being driven into his coffin. He notices his age more and more. His back hurts, knees complain. Tommy ribs him when he sits on palettes of tile with a groan.

Just as Joel feels like he’s got one foot in the grave, you speak up.

“I’m glad you’re not,” you say. You’re trying to catch your breath too. “Joel, I've never come with a guy my age. Most of them won’t even eat pussy.”

That only adds to his self loathing.

“I was just— I was trying to avoid this,” he admits.

It doesn’t feel right to accept your praise when he had ulterior motives. You sit up on your elbow, you other hand gliding across the plane of his chest.

“So you wouldn’t have gone down on me?” you say.

“No. Course I woulda,” he says.

“Even though it took me, like, 45 minutes to finish?”

“That’s alright,” Joel says. He’d loved every second of it, his cock begging for relief as you writhed under this tongue. “I don’t care how long it takes you.”

“Well, me either,” you assure him.

You’re circling his damp skin with a soothing touch and your hand inches down his belly.

“You still want to come, right?” you whisper.

He nods. The need is still there, just as it has been from the very first time he kissed you. He’s touched himself to the thought of you but it’s never been enough. He’s desperate for it now.

You kiss him and bring his hand to cup your breasts. He’s not sure he deserves this— your compassion, your patience. But weeks of fear and embarrassment begin to melt away as Joel focuses on the taste of your tongue, the warmth of your skin under his touch.

“I bet I can get you hard,” you purr. The fine edges of your teeth rake against his earlobe before you get up.

You swing your leg over to straddle his middle, your back facing him. He runs his palm up your bare skin, from your hip as far as he can reach to your shoulder blade. A beautiful expanse of delicate skin, coated with a sheen of perspiration. You look at him over your shoulder with a seductive look, eyes hooded, bottom lip caught in your teeth.

He groans and grips a handful of your ass. You respond by arching your back.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Uh huh,” is all that he can manage.

“I was so excited to see you, to do this, last night I was touching myself,” you admit.

“Yeah?”

The thought of it increases the arousal that’s already coursing through him. You, twisting in your sheets, fingers coated in that sweet slick. Or maybe you used a toy— a smooth little purple thing or maybe one of those big wands that could jackhammer the knots out of his back. Filthy images fly through his mind.

“Not the first time,” you say. “But it’s not as good as the real thing.”

You lean down and through your legs, Joel can see the heavy swell of your breasts. Your peaked nipples sway against his lower belly. As your legs spread wider, he can see your pussy throbbing, convulsing.

Everything is revealed like this. It’s obscene. The curve of your ass is presented, open so he can see your hole. Your lips shine, swollen and slick with release. Dripping for him.

If this doesn’t get him hard, he ought to give up and become a monk.

You moan against him. It’s a little much, pornographic and almost silly but he needs it. Joel focuses everything on the sounds, the feel of your weight on him.

“Put your fingers in me,” you command.

Two digits slide easily into your cunt and you press your hips back towards him. Your breath catches with each rock of your ass. His senses are overwhelmed by you. Soon. Soon he’ll be back inside you, fucking you properly.

And then you put your mouth around his half-hard cock. Hot and unbelievably wet, your tongue coaxes him on. Sloppy noises come from your lips as he begins to twitch back to life.

It’s exquisite torture. The strain in his belly courses lower and he grits his teeth. All of this for him. An old man that ought to be taking those blue pills. You’ve become a little vixen to make him feel young again.

By now his cock has awoken, harder even than before. Probably hardest it’s ever been.

“Okay. Okay, darlin,” he pants. “I’ve got to fuck you right now.”

You lose no time, pulling off of him and scooting down over his thighs, still facing away. You line his stiff cock up to your entrance and sink down over it. This new angle grips him even tighter and he hisses as you draw him in deeper. It’s an obscene view. Joel looks down his chest to see his cock disappearing within you as you ride him. He watches himself fuck you, holding onto your hips so hard he’s afraid he might hurt you.

“Turn around, darlin’,” he manages. “Want to see you.”

You pull off and quickly flip around, your hand tracing his cheek once he’s back inside of you.

“So good for me,” you say.

The sight of you— radiant and triumphant— inspires him to press his feet against the mattress and fuck up into you. He’ll probably regret the strain on his back tomorrow but now, he needs to bury himself deep inside of your cunt before he loses it again.

“Can’t believe I waited so long to fuck this pretty pussy,” he says. “You wanted it so bad. Filthy girl.” He’s babbling senselessly, lost in his own pleasure.

The delicious tension and heat wind in his belly. Each thrust brings him closer to the edge.

His orgasm hits him so hard he practically roars as he spills into you. His hips stutter, every muscle in his body goes taught. Just as quickly it unspools and he nearly collapses under you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, your palm pressing to where his heart beats erratically. You both struggle to catch your breath.

“Not bad for an old man,” you tease.

He lets out a tired laugh before hauling you in for another kiss.

Comments and reblogs always appreciated! My asks are always open!

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witchy11 · 15 days

Text

— looking back

joel miller x f!reader

rated e - 2.2k

tags: jackson-era Joel pov, angst, canon-typical violence/references to death, established relationship, Joel is an ass man, consensual somno elements, posessive!joel, body worship, dirty talk, male masturbation, spitting, touching, come marking

a/n: easing back into writing and started 2 little wips that are sort of "introspective-joel-pov-smut-fics" - here is the first one! 💕

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Or - Joel gets off just from the sight of you

He’s strung as tight as a bow. The lingering adrenaline a notched arrow, leaving him about to snap. Blood seeps into his jeans - splattered across his knees, where he had jerked the knife from the man’s neck.

It had been a mercy killing. A stranger, but they had all seen the bite. He had been the only one to do something about it.

He’s told others that you get used to it. The killing - that after a while, survival wins out.

You get over it.

But you don’t. Instead, it clings to him like a shadow, following him home - down the worn, familiar path. Inside the gates, back to Jackson.

Heavier than it’s been before. An itching beneath his skin. If he was over it, he wouldn’t have to turn himself off. Shutting away a part of himself, only to fight to come back - clawing his way out later.

An aching reminder at how short life could be. That yes, things were different - but he was never really safe.

Not really.

His path brings him to you. A beacon, guiding his way back.

His - your - home coming into view, just as the dawn creeps over the fall, wooden fences. The misty grey brightening into gold and pink with the sun, as he’s unlocking the wooden door, shouldering it open.

A look thrown out the window as he scrubs his hand clean in the kitchen - seeing that the garage light is on. That she’s home, that she’s okay. An automatic check, before his weary feet take him upstairs.

Joel sheds the layers, the jacket thrown over the railing at the top of the stairs. Fingers fumbling with his belt, pulling the worn leather through the loops before his stained jeans crumple on the floor, as he pushes the cracked door open.

The light from the hallway stretches across the wooden floor, creeping into the dark room. Where you still lay sleeping, curled on your side within the blankets and sheets. Missing him in your dreams, that space next to you long empty.

Cold - where your fingers reach out, searching for him.

His path diverts, moving to you instead of the attached bathroom. The edge of the bed sinking under his weight, a soft sound as you stir.

“‘Welcome ‘ome.” You murmur, still half-asleep. A little wiggle as your bent knee hitches higher, the oversized shirt you’re wearing bunching up around your hips.

He reaches out, just the ghosting of his fingers against the soft skin near your knee. The fluttering of heavy lashes as you fight sleep, only to be pulled under again.

Joel’s hand shifts. A warm palm pressing against your thigh. Against soft skin, so different than his own calloused touch.

Home.

It is, isn’t it? As close to he’s had in years. Decades. The old apartment in the QZ had never felt that way, not with the faded floral walls. Those small rooms that still held ghosts.

But here, his own touch lingers. Yours, melding with it. It would never be like before - the picking out of furniture, of paint. But it’s his clothes in the closet. His worn guitar that rests against the couch. His wooden carvings lining the top of the mantle, above the fireplace.

And you - you're scattered throughout. Woven blankets and thick sweaters. Books, covering damn near every surface.

A little bottle of found lotion tucked away in the bathroom. He can smell it now, as he leans over you. A bristly kiss pressed against your cheek, the curve of your shoulder.

Amber, vanilla, caramel.

He’s pulled back to the memory, the light shining in your eyes when he handed the beaten bottle over. The minuscule amount you had worked into your knuckles - the soft sigh of contentment.

A bright laugh when he had pulled you close, the murmured “smells good” against your throat, as you had squirmed in his grasp - smiling as you read the fragrance notes out loud.

Something stirs in him, then. The press of his thigh against yours, as he leans over. Eyes dragging down to the bare curve of your ass, his hand tracing cup your thigh to palm your flesh.

His already uneven breath hitching, as you sigh. That little smile - his name - murmured out as you rock instinctively into his touch. Still on the edge of consciousness, lulled off into a deep sleep with the cooling of summer.

Waking you up wouldn’t be unusual. Half the time you’re already up after these early-morning patrols. Waiting for him.

How he waits for you, on those few days where it’s you out there, instead of him. His jaw working with irritation until you’re home and back and safe, and he’s stripping your clothes from you himself.

It’s selfish to wake you, on a morning where you sleep so deeply. Even with the stress that’s eating at him, simmering in his veins.

But maybe… maybe he can just-

Joel is leaning, his mouth against your neck. A shift as you stretch, baring your skin to him as your lips curl in a smile. A soft, sleepy hum as you reach for him, fingers curving over the thick muscle of his forearm.

The hand on your ass drifting up - across to the small of your back. Meeting nothing but warm, bared skin beneath your shirt.

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Heavy-lidded eyes open then at the sound of his voice - his words - as you tilt your head. A slow sweep over the breadth of his shoulders, the curve of his stomach. The spread of his thighs as he kneels behind you. The already half-hard tent of faded boxers.

You had been waiting for him. Anticipating his return, eager for his touch. The cloud of sleep begins to clear as he palms himself, the bed shifting as your hips shift, thighs spreading open for him.

“I can take care of you,” Your voice is scratchy - husky, in the early morning. A hand pressing again on your back as you begin to roll over, holding you in place.

“You already are,” Joel groans, as your hips tilt up, off the bed. Knees pressing into the mattress as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting between them, “Stay just like that, alright?”

The combination feels erotic. His smell on the shirt you wear. The tingling throb between your thighs, the desire in his voice. How much he wants - enough that just the sight of you has him hard, thumbs catching on the waistband of his boxers to free himself.

You relax into the bed, as you watch. The weight of his hand as it moves to squeeze your ass. A pressure as he tugs, opening you up.

“Fuck.”

Joel spits in his palm, before it’s wrapping around his cock. A rough groan as some of that need is eased, with the sharp stroke of his fist.

Just letting himself look. Admire.

A sight that is only his, fingers sinking into soft flesh. The way you trust, how effected you are already - the shallow rock of your hips as the sound of skin-on-skin fills the room.

“You got a pretty little pussy, honey.” He hears himself saying. Watching how you clench at his praise, the little gasp that follows. “Pretty little holes. All for me, right?”

He can feel the weight of your gaze. Darkening, as your hunger grows low in your belly. Darting between his face and the sharp flick of his wrist.

Rarely getting to see him take, like this. Usually he would have been buried in you, by now. There’s the urge to ask, but there’s a power in this - wanting to watch him get off to you. Not having to lift a finger to do so.

“All for you.” You sigh, “Always.”

His jaw grits, teeth clicking together. A bead of precum joins the slick of his spit, that angry fire in his belly transforming.

So different that the little mouse he had taken to bed, all those months ago. Your hands covering your mouth, muffling the moans, until he had pried them away. Pinning them against the pillows, whispering filth in your ear.

Now, he can see the greed in your eyes. The way you glisten, when his own gaze drops. The shift of your thighs as he takes a second to rub himself against the curve of your ass. Dipping down to press against your core.

The tip coming back slick, in a new kind of way - fueling the pressure, building in his belly.

Your moan breaks the early-morning quiet. His name on your lips again - more urgent than before.

The little beg only sends him closer, a rough groan in his throat. His own hand too familiar - used to the quick and precise touch he needs to get off, when he had to.

In the before. In the during - when it was only words that the you of you had exchanged. Heated looks that lingered late into those lonely nights.

Hasn’t felt the urge to, since he’s had you.

He expects you to ask him to fill you, eyes caught on the enticing lift of your hips.

Caught off-guard for the briefest second, a heat flushing over his cheeks, when you shift beneath him instead. Flipping over, onto your back.

Eyes bright, teeth sinking into your lip as you smile.

“Wanna watch.” You admit, and that tension in his shoulders settles in his chest, turning sweet.

His fist tightening around his cock, as your thighs splay over his. Opening yourself up under his gaze, stretching out in front of him.

And fuck, what a sight. There’s a rolling wave deep in his core that he chases with the rock of his hips.

His hand fits perfectly against the curve of your waist, eyes caught on the way your fingers catch on the hem of your shirt.

Pulling it up over your breasts, a path that his eyes follow greedily.

“Christ, darlin’.” The words rumble in his chest.

A rough exhale as your own gaze drops to his fist. The pace that he’s picked up - the peek of the flushed tip when he strokes down to the base.

Already about to burst, like he’s a man half his age. Could say it’s just his own touch, the urge to relieve the weight of his stress.

But he knows it’s more. That warmth in his chest, a tenderness that has only softened the rough stone of his heart since he’s left Boston.

It’s there in the way that he could linger on the slick place between your thighs. But instead he’s watching you watch him. Focusing on the part of your lips, the shine in your eyes.

“‘m close.” Joel breathes, his words low. Rough. “Where do you want it?”

He’ll catch it in his palm if he needs to. If it helps you go back to sleep, after. He hasn’t given up on that wish - to let you drift off for a little longer.

The look you give him, the little smile that turns mischievous, has his stomach twisting into knots. Like butterflies, he thinks.

Your hand drifts down, knuckles brushing over the jerk of his. Soft fingers tracing over hot, swollen flesh. Only to curve over your mound, to spread yourself open for him.

“Fuck.” He breathes, again, “There?”

The answering hum is low, desperate.

“Wanna hear you ask me.” Joel pushes - needing to hear you say it, knowing it will push him over the edge.

You squirm beneath him, affected by the edge to his voice, the soft command.

“Want you to come on me.”

“Where, baby?” The word slides from his lips without thought.

The eye contact breaks, your gaze darting away with embarrassment. But after a moment it’s back - the soft heave of your breasts as you suck in a breath, steeling your nerves.

“Want you to come on my pussy, Joel.”

He can’t help the rough groan, ripped from his chest. The shift of his thighs as he pulls back, as that pressure builds. The pleasure surging instead of ebbing, as he tips his cock downward.

The next stroke of his fist pushes him past the threshold. Relief sings in his veins as he spills across your mound. Painting your abdomen with his release, eyes fluttering closed as his hearing goes fuzzy.

Drowning out his long moan, as you push yourself up. He meets you instinctually, arcing over you as his mouth is drawn to yours.

As his spend drips down the crease of your thigh, so warm against soft skin.

It feels like a weight is lifted, like he’s back in his own skin again. Relaxing into the fingers that scratch into his hair, the tongue that sweeps against his.

But it’s only a few moments before he remembers. Coming back to himself, as he fits his hand between your thighs.

Fingers dragging through his release, bringing his slick fingers to circle against your clit.

Because there’s no way you’re going back to sleep after this. Not if he knows you - which he’s now certain that he does.

"Thank you honey." He murmurs, with lips that press against your cheek.

The smallest smile after, as your own part with a moan - as he croons against your skin.

"Now let me take care of you."

thank you for reading! was excited to explore a little idea I had 💕

(tags: @celestianstars)

2K notes · View notes

witchy11 · 15 days

Text

joel miller - oneshots - part 1

fic recs masterlist - please check the tags and warnings on each fic! if you enjoyed a fic, please show the writer some love <3

fool me twice by @inklore

you should be my only girl, comfort came against my will by @undercoverpena

fucking your best friend's brother, i might kill my ex & pillow queen by @beskarandblasters

squirming by @frannyzooey

little black dress by @hellishjoel

sweet spot & for you, i would by @javiscigarette

sequins & happy birthday by @trulybetty

i did something bad, but why's it feel so good? & sylvia plath in the toilet by @louswrld11

my girl now, biting down & that pretty girlfriend by @psychedelic-ink

sweet dreams are made of this, quit it & some rotten man by @iamasaddie

old dogs don't change & body language by @futureman

develop by @missredherring

call me by @macfrog

a sheep in wolf's clothing by @jupiter-soups

where you want your gift, girl? & she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel by @thetriumphantpanda

you're a mansion with a view by @atticrissfinch

sundown by @bageldaddy

sleepless by @covetyou

flesh and metal by @swiftispunk

what do you need? by @whatsnewalycat

sick days with joel miller by @bearsbeetsbeskar

shared by @swiftispunk & @joelscruff

looking back by @eupheme

no closer could i be to god & grab the bull by the horns by @proxima-writes

red light by @kiwisbell

observations by @ezrasbirdie

hypothermia & my protector by @morallyinept

traitor by @chaotic-mystery

what you need by @endlessthxxghts

truth or dare by @joelscruff

moon, a hole of light, trust fall, made by hand & where you sleep by @tinycozycomfort

little mouse by @josephquinnswhore

someone to lean on by @cavillscurls

attraction spell by @jksprincess10

sweets & old man by @hearteyesforjoel

mystery by @honeyedmiller

wake by @notjustjavierpena

born lucky, under a bad star by @softlyspector

curled in by @bonezone44

unlikely friends & it takes time by @sweetercalypso

no control by @fhatbhabie

love me better, kiss me back & be my daddy by @bastardmandennis

never enough by @amanitacowboy

sugar rush by @beardedjoel

go ahead and cry, little girl by @party-hearses

flannel by @romanarose

strawberry by @joelsgreys

vicious by @sinsofsummers

ensnare & knife play by @ozarkthedog

216 notes · View notes

witchy11 · 15 days

Text

The Last of Us

➼ Joel Miller ‣Size Difference by palioom Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Angst in Age-Gap Relationship by inklore Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Ensnare by ozarkthedog CNC!Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Come Clean by futureman Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Keep It On The Low by futureman Ex!Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Shadows by ozarkthedog [Dead Dove] Noncon!Dark!Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Gimme What I Want: A Fic in Texts by atticrissfinch Joel Miller x F!Reader and sexting ‣Stiff by mothandpidgeon Erectile Dysfunction!Joel Miller x F!Reader with age-gap ‣Butterfly by stargirlfics Joel Miller x Black!Latina!Reader ‣Wolf Song by eupheme Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣In the Woods Somewhere by eupheme Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Greedy Little Thing by ozarkthedog Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Impetuous by inklore Joel Miller x Smuggler!F!Reader ‣Ain't No Sunshine by sunflowersteves Joel Miller x Sunshine!F!Reader [Part 2] ‣Just the Tip by toxicanonymity Dubcon!Joel Miller x Innocent!F!Reader ‣Reckless by psychedelic-ink Feral!Joel Miller x F!Reader ‣Misbehavior by stargirlfics Brat Tamer!Joel Miller x Black!F!Reader

dividers by saradika-graphics

1K notes · View notes

witchy11 · 15 days

Text

JOEL MILLER FIC RECS

⇾ 18+ minors DNI, read at your own risk! ⇽

an appreciation to all my favourite writers out there you deserve all the love <3

Series

— Something To Fight For by @auteurdelabre | After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever...

— I Know Who You Are by @punkshort | A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long-term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.

— The One You Need by @loliwrites | When you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at arm’s length, your neighbour Joel finds his way into your life.

— By The Grit Of Sandpaper by @penvisions | An offhand comment from you inspires Joel to branch out and create helpful kitchen wares. And it seems everyone has been gifted one from him, except for you. It makes you rethink the casual friendship you had developed...

— I Wanna Be Your Lover by @shellshocklove | Miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor, you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

— If The Door Wasn't Shut by @heartpascal | months of travelling with Joel and Ellie come crashing down on you, the fear is suffocating.

— Stay In Bed by @psychedelic-ink | After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance.

— That's A Real Fucking Legacy by @wyn-n-tonic | When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.

One-Shots

— No Time To Die by @davosmymaster | The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

— White Lies by @poeticpascal | Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

— Saying Thanks by @vivwritescrappythings | Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

— Soft & Sweet by @cavillscurls | You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

— Who We Are by @gracieheartspedro | Being stuck on the road with an older guy you've been crushing on for ages won't be so bad, right? wrong. because he's been pining after you, too. and one of you will have to give in eventually.

— Warm Me Up by @tightjeansjavi | While on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

— Love In the Time Of Cordyceps by @sameheart-sameblood | When the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. Joel Miller makes that rule hard to stick to.

— Puppy Love by @absurdthirst | You always follow Joel Miller around, you've got his back. You're in love with him. Putting up with Tess's nickname of puppy dog, you don't realize that Joel feels for you until the end.

— Light The Flame by @yeollie-plz | Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

— Best I Ever Had by @endlessthxxghts | Someone tries to hit on you on your night out with Joel, insulting your man in the process, and oh you don't like that. You blow off some steam in more ways than one.

— Make A Move On Me by @freelancearsonist | You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodelling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

— Fire Walk by @motherofagony | A chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt.

— Cry Baby by @psychedelic-ink | bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in Jackson. As the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of Joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

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witchy11 · 17 days

Note

Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?”

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure.

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily.

You’re both lying in his bed, half-naked. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him.

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes?

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be.

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now.

“Joel?”

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore.

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right.

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes.

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes.

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year.

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself.

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you.

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.”

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you?

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you whine.

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure.

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him.

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—”

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—”

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face.

You love him. You said it. And he believes you.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters.

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin.

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him.

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back.

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back.

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm.

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time.

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now.

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat.

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained.

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria.

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts.

*****

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witchy11 · 20 days

Text

Just Stay.

- A GN!Reader x Jackson!Joel Miller story

For my wonderful, lovely, kind, hilarious friend, Jo (@morgaussy/@merci-killing), who wants nothing more than to worship that old man. I hope this is to your liking ♡

Tags: 18+ MDNI, explicit content, BODY WORSHIP, slight size difference (reader is described as shorter than Joel), reader is generally able bodied and has hair but is otherwise not described, oral sex (M receiving), heavy petting, lots and lots of kisses, body hair appreciation, domestic fluffy smut, two goobers deeply in love, kink discussion (daddy kink, and per jo's request, "A secret barely there splash of mommy kink"), grief mention, TLOU2 Jackson Era (post-Ellie run away era, pre-snowstorm)

WC: 4.6k

A/N: this is full of lazy writing technique and i am aware! there is POV switching whenever i say so, get in both their brains, die mad about it POV purists :)

Warm water, straight from the tap. Straight from the tap and into the basin where Joel Miller’s aching muscles are learning to relax, still, years after their first reconnaissance with a god’s honest bath. He can’t quite believe it. More than 20 years after the end of the world, where people starve and maim and kill and hunt to survive, there are still hot baths. He takes a deep breath and sighs in relief, letting himself sink lower beneath the surface, only the top of his broad chest and shoulders remaining above in the cool air of the home. He closes his eyes for a moment, soaking.

The jiggling of the sticky front door knob calls his attention. An alertness solidified in a world consisting only of predators and prey. Kill or be killed. He knows, rationally, he’s safe here. His eyes clock his hunting knife laid safely on the vanity anyway.

He listens to the familiar sound of your steps, the way you insist on toeing off your boots at the front door, the soft pattering of sock clad feet as they maneuver around the first floor, the creak of the loose floorboard near the kitchen island that he’s been meaning to fix. He can tell just from your movements that you’re hankering for a cup of tea—hearing the cabinet door close softly, always gentle, the ceramic clink of the base of your favorite mug coming into contact with the stone countertop, the metallic clang of the filled teapot as you set it atop the stove. He relaxes further knowing you’re home, safe.

The water is just turning tepid when he hears the stairs creak, signaling your imminent arrival. He pushes himself back up to greet you, the cooler air causing his wet skin to break out in gooseflesh. He turns his head to find you standing quietly, hip propped against the vanity, warm mug cupped between your palms, eyes trained on him already, his favorite soft grin gracing your lips, plumping your cheeks.

“Whatcha doin’ there, starlight?” he asks.

“Just admiring the art,” you respond, raising your mug to your mouth and taking a slurping sip, careful not to burn the fragile skin of your lips and tongue. The response makes him chuckle and flush, blaming the pinkness brought to his chest and neck on the temperature of the water if pressed.

His starlight. A beacon in the dark, guiding him home. He found you at a time when he thought he’d lost everything. Ellie had run off, and, terrified, he’d run after her. Once she’d been found, she’d confessed how she hated him for the choices he’d made for her, how she didn’t want to be part of his life anymore, and he’d agreed to her terms as long as it meant she’d be safe and home. He’d spent the entire ride back to Jackson fighting off the grief that threatened to overtake him. He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope this time, losing another daughter. At least this time he knew she was alive, could watch from a distance as she grew, could talk to the other townsfolk and get updates on her life, make sure she was ok.

That was where you came in. You’d been serving at the local watering hole, The Tipsy Bison, when he’d come in for a drink. You’d poured his whiskey neat, just as he’d requested, and quietly left him to his thoughts as you tended to other patrons. He sat quietly, sipping his drink and listening to your conversation. His ears perked up when he heard you mention your students having a hard time with an assignment you’d given recently. He knew everyone in town shared responsibilities, should’ve figured you would have more to offer to Jackson than to only be a bartender. When you came over to check on him, see if he wanted another pour he assumes, he cleared his throat and asked about your other role as a teacher and your entire face lit up as you gushed about your kids. He tried to listen, but found himself lost in the feeling of being a kid again, the awe he felt the first time his dad had taken him and Tommy out to the wide open Texan countryside and shown them how bright the stars could shine.

He tuned back in when he caught you talking about one student in particular you had connected with—his Ellie. How she was a natural writer, so creative, always scribbling in her journal. Mostly doodles, but over time you described how you’d earned her trust and she’d opened up a little more, shown you some of her poetry, how you’d encouraged her to keep writing. You talked about how she was quiet, shy, kept to herself most of the time, but she had a lot to say on paper. Joel tried to tamp down the proud tears that threatened to well at the news. She was ok. She was going to be ok.

Joel kept going back and you were always there for him, greeting him by name with a soft smile, pouring his glass of whiskey before he’d even had a chance to take a seat on one of the old wooden barstools. You’d formed an easy friendship and before he knew it, he was inviting you over for dinner. You’d gone a little speechless and he worried he’d overstepped, but then you’d let out a breath you must have been holding and giggled, burying your face in your palms for a second before you found his eyes again and the way they shone for him was nothing short of celestial. You’d agreed, and the rest is history.

“You wanna get in?” Joel asked, motioning to the tub.

You shook your head. “Not today. Just want to keep you company if that’s alright.”

“Course that’s alright, sweetheart. Make yourself at home,” he said before going back to relaxing, closing his eyes.

You watched him ease back into contentment in the water before you moved, opening the cabinet below the sink and stealing a couple clean towels. You placed them on the floor next to the tub before kneeling atop them. You took a long drink from your mug of tea before placing it aside. You looked over the products on the tub ledge and grabbed the shampoo. Quietly, you leaned over, laying a soft kiss to Joel’s exposed shoulder before whispering in his ear, “Tip your head back for me.”

He did as instructed, sitting up from the wall, keeping his eyes closed and tipping his head back. You grabbed your mug of tea, draining it before quickly rinsing it in the water, filling it and carefully soaking his sweat damp curls, using your hand to ensure none of the water dripped forward onto his face. You then uncapped the shampoo and squirted a small amount into the palm of your hand. You lathered your hands together, causing the shampoo to begin sudsing, and brought your fingers to his scalp. He hummed in bliss as you began massaging the soap into his tresses, the day’s tension easing from you both as you cared and were cared for in return.

After a few minutes of gentle ministration, you guided his head back with your fingertip under his chin before rinsing the suds from his locks. You then reached for your bottle of conditioner, something you typically reserved for special occasions, and squirted a dollop into your hand before softly carding it through his hair. You let it sit for a bit, rinsing your hands in the water and allowing yourself a moment to admire the man in front of you. He was remarkably beautiful—strong, broad, sun speckled chest giving way to a softer stomach coated in a fine layer of soft brown hair that drew your eyes southward to where his thick cock laid softly against the crease of his thigh, his legs strong enough to walk or ride for miles. Scars littered his skin and you mentally pressed a kiss to each one as your eyes worked their way back up to his face. His eyes met yours there and he leaned forward, capturing your mouth with his own. He held you in place with his palm in its favorite place, cupped around the side of your jaw, thumb finding its place in the divot next to your ear. He kissed you deeply for a few more moments, pouring all of his affection for you into it. You smiled, effectively breaking the embrace, and left him with a final peck to his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, before maneuvering him once again to rinse the conditioner from his hair.

Once clean, you helped ease him from beneath the water, wrapping him in one of the towels, now body-warm from where you sat, using the other as a soft barrier between his wet feet and the cold tile floor. He lets you care for him without a word, chest warming as you dry his body and leave sweet kisses in the towel’s wake as you go. He laughs good naturedly when you try to comb his hair back and have trouble reaching, bending down to make the job easier. His heart swells when he sees you grab your precious jar of aloe from the countertop, swiping your fingers through the gooey substance and working it between your palms.

“Can you sit on the toilet for me, please?” You ask. He plants a kiss on your head and complies, thankful for the warm towel you wrapped him with saving his damp skin from the cold porcelain. You stand between his spread thighs and begin your work, piecing together a clump of curls and twisting them around your finger, effectively applying the gelled aloe before giving the little ringlet a squeeze and moving onto the next piece. Joel sits calmly, loving the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the way you love him so simply. He wonders, as he often does, how he got so lucky to find such goodness in a world gone so rotten.

You take your time, dipping back into the jar of aloe you harvested earlier that week as needed, ensuring each ringlet receives the care it so deserves. You love doing this for him. You love this man—this man with his reputation for violence, this man with a karmic debt that may never be fully repaid, this man whose hands were made to create, not destroy, who patiently sits with children as he teaches them to play the guitar, who misses his daughters more than anything in the world. Joel Miller, who protects the least of these with his gun and his knife and his bare hands. The same hands that delicately carve in his workshop, drafting some of the most intricate pieces of woodworking you’d ever seen.

You finish the last curl at the base of his skull, just behind his ear. You give it a little tug and watch as it springs back into shape, smiling at the sight, before leaning down to leave a kiss there…and there and there as you move down the column of his strong neck. You feel his large palms grip your hips and you move your kisses northward, along his jaw, to his mouth where he meets you, urges your mouth open to lick inside and explore. You pursue a deeper physical knowledge of him in return, giving as good as you’re getting, tongue dancing behind his teeth, cataloging every crevice, every bump and ridge, deciphering the taste of him as if he were a fine wine—notes of apple and coffee and his 5pm pour of whiskey and something uniquely him.

You feel his hands roaming, making their way to the front of your jeans, pushing the button through its hole and tugging down the zipper before stuffing his hand inside. He gives you a few firm strokes over your underwear, just to feel, to be so close, and you allow him to explore for a moment before you break your kiss to rest your forehead against his.

You shake your head softly when he attempts to move his hand beneath your cotton barrier and he stills his hand. “Not tonight,” you say quietly, “you first,” and you step back before sinking to your heels in front of him, grabbing the towel from in front of the bathtub and placing it under you before kneeling forward and meeting his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, mouth shiny and flushed with arousal, his chest and neck blushed a beautiful pink. You think he’s never more beautiful than when he’s about to get his cock worshiped by your reverential mouth.

You reach up and gently unfurl the towel from where it’s tucked at his waist, allowing the soft graze of your fingertips to lightly tickle the skin of his stomach, the muscles beneath contracting in their wake. You unwrap him like the gift he is, allowing the towel to open fully, exposing all of him to the room. You take in the sight of him, hard and drooling at the tip, thick thatch of curls nestled at the base, strong thighs parted to cradle you between them. You turn your head to the side and lay a kiss to the inside of his knee, up his thigh, right to the crease of his sensitive groin, before repeating the motion on the other side. You hear him groan and look up to find his head tipped back, already losing himself to his pleasure. You’ll never get over how easy he is for you, how much he clearly loves the way you love him. You repeat your favorite vow to whatever god is listening, to love him forever if they’ll be so gracious.

You reach up to grip the heavy weight of him in your palm, curling your fingers around him as much as you can, and give him a few gentle strokes, the velvety soft skin warm in your hand. You feel his pulse combine with your own as you glide your thumb along the veiny underside. A fresh drop of precum oozes from the tip and you’d be remiss to let it go untasted, leaning forward to meet the spongy head with the wet warmth of your tongue and lapping at it, thankful for its musky, salty gift. You’re sure at some point you’ve stepped out of your body because everything goes quiet as you taste and taste and taste him, lathing your tongue over and over the weeping head while your hand continues to stroke, kissing the very tip of him gently before trailing your lips along the length of him, down to the base and tonguing back to the top, mirroring your actions on the other side, lifting him to give attention underneath, not wanting to leave even a millimeter of him unfound by your mouth.

“God, baby, there you go, so good at this,” Joel’s praises bring your head back above water, but all you want to do is drown. And so you do. You flick your eyes up to meet his before opening your mouth wide and allowing the thick length of him inside, sliding him along your textured tongue, and closing your lips around him tightly. You hold him there for a moment, watching his face as you roll your tongue along the underside of his cock, sucking in a stuttered pattern, allowing the pillowy softness of your inner cheeks to hug him briefly, before pulling off and refilling your lungs. His eyes glisten just as yours do. He cups your face in his palm and you turn to kiss him there. He pushes his fingers into your hair and gently scritches at your scalp. You close your eyes and lean into the gesture before returning to prayer at your altar.

You take him as deep as your jaw will allow over and over, not caring for how messy things are getting as you continue the push and pull, saliva pooling on your tongue and dripping along his length, down the corners of your mouth, off your swollen lips and onto the towel below. You can hear him moaning with abandon now, knowing he’s loving this as much as you do. You tenderly roll his sac between your fingers and he tugs at your hair, so you continue your ministrations as you suck.

“Shit, baby, gonna make me cum,” he warns. You pull your mouth off him and continue to stroke him with your hand.

“Cum in my mouth. Please, want to taste you, want to, want to,” you stutter, mind focused solely on him, making him cum, easing him into blissful release. You open wide and take him back inside, closing your eyes and losing yourself to the feeling. You grab his other hand with your own, holding tight to each other as he helps guide your head exactly where he needs you. You suck and suck and suck until he grants you the prize you’ve eagerly anticipated, and he does it so beautifully. The sounds he releases from his throat resonate against the tiled floors and walls of the room, reverberating into your bones. His lashes fan and grace the tops of his cheeks where his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. His pillowy lips part, the plushness marred by his own teeth marks, bitten in an effort to not give too much of himself away too soon. He tastes so deliciously of man—clean, soapy, salty, musky—as he releases onto your tongue, into the back of your throat, and you make every effort to gracefully swallow everything he gives.

Once he’s finished, you softly suckle the last of your combined fluids from his length, ingesting them to become one together inside you. You leave a parting kiss to his length in thanks for all he’s given you before you allow Joel to haul you up to meet his mouth. He kisses you fiercely, tasting himself there. You know him almost as well as you know yourself, and you know he’s itching to return the favor, but you slow him, softening the kiss until the temperature returns to a simmer. He holds you there against his bareness, one arm keeping your head against his chest while the other strokes your back and you mirror him, fingers running gently all along his back. You feel more than hear when he speaks as it rumbles from his chest.

“Thank you, darlin’. Love you, more’n I thought was possible,” he says. You sigh and kiss his chest, wrap your arms around him tighter.

“Feeling’s mutual, my love. I promise,” you assure him, giving him a final squeeze before stepping back, keeping his hands in yours, not wanting to completely break contact with him just yet. “Come with me, we need to get you dressed.”

You lead him by the hand to your shared bedroom and sit him on the edge of the bed. You turn around and find the dresser where you keep a majority of your combined clothes—yours on the left, his on the right—and pull out a well worn tee and pair of grey sweatpants. You bring the clothes back over to him, setting the pants aside for the moment, and unfolding the t-shirt.

“Arms up, baby,” you instruct. He complies amusedly, raising his arms above his head while you drape him in soft cotton, paying careful attention to the collar, ensuring it’s stretched wide to not disturb his drying curls. Once the shirt is tugged down to cover his soft belly, you move to his pants, scrunching up one leg and feeding his foot through before repeating the motions with the other side. “Stand, please,” you request. He stands, allowing you to tug the waistband up over the swell of his ass, carefully pulling the material over his front to not accidentally overstimulate his now soft cock. You eye him up and down, nodding in approval of your handiwork. “Beautiful,” you say under your breath, not intending for him to hear, just for yourself.

Joel doesn’t remember the last time he felt this way—so deeply cared for. For as long as he can remember now, he’s been the provider, the protector. He hasn’t had a moment to slow down since before Sarah was born, 30 some odd years ago now. And it feels…nice. He feels small in some ways, but not diminished, never with you. No, he feels almost young again, experiencing this kind of selfless love that he’s only ever experienced before from a parent, and something clicks for him. He sees you near the hamper, changing out of your day clothes and into your own pajamas and he gets you, understands you on a deeper level than he had just hours before. He lets you finish your routine and make your way back over to him, anticipating you getting into bed, but instead he’s met with your hand reaching out for him. He takes it in his own, he’ll always take it when it’s so graciously offered.

“C’mon, let’s have a snack, worked up an appetite,” you say jovially. He snickers, thinking to himself that he fed you pretty well not 10 minutes ago, but he’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if it meant you’d keep smiling at him like that.

You lead him downstairs to the kitchen and sit him in his chair at the breakfast table he made just for you. While you putter around, preparing the two of you a small meal to share, he thinks about how beautiful you look in the morning light, the early sun catching on your hair and in your eyes. And you, you give the sun a run for its money with how you shine, bright and golden, warming everyone you come into contact with. You make it so easy for him to forget where you all are, when you are. Nothing is simpler than time spent with you. And now he knows you even better and he isn’t sure yet how he’ll quite thank you for that.

In what feels like just a blink, Joel watches as you plate a simple late evening dinner of eggs and toast for the two of you, an old favorite of Sarah’s, nothing sillier to a child than having breakfast food while the moon sits high in the sky. You bring the plates to the table and sit across from him. He hooks his foot around your ankle as soon as you’re settled.

“Thank you, sweetpea. You didn’t have to do all this,” Joel tells you as he accepts the proffered fork.

“I know,” you respond, stabbing a bite of your scramble with your own cutlery, “but I wanted to,” you finish simply, popping the eggs into your mouth with a smile. Joel returns your smile and digs in.

The two of you quickly polish off your plates, leaving nothing but the crumbs from the bread you’d baked a few days prior behind. Joel moves to clear the table and you allow him to, but join him at the sink, grabbing the dish towel from its place draped over the left half, falling into your regular routine—Joel washes, you dry.

“You know,” he starts, “I think I understand you even better now, after today.”

You turn to look at him with an amusedly confused face. “In what way?”

“You know how sometimes you ask me to be your “daddy” in bed? I love you and I would do almost anything for you, so I’ve never had a problem with it, and I love how it seems to make you feel, but I didn’t fully understand it before,” he pauses, giving you time to respond if you felt you needed to, and turns to see you’ve paused with plate in hand. He fully turns his body to face you now. “I think I get it now. The way you took care of me tonight? It was…almost parental? But it wasn’t at all at the same time. I think,” he tries again, “I think the only other time in my life I’ve experienced that kind of selfless…devotion, I guess…was from a parent. And obviously you’re not my parent, but…fuck, I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” he asks self-consciously, unable to meet your gaze.

You bring your fingers to his chin, lifting his eyes to meet yours before you speak. “You’re not fucking anything up. You’re right, that’s why I like it, why sometimes I need it. It’s the way you take care of me. You make me feel so incredibly safe, Joel,” you answer him.

Joel pulls you into his chest, gently rubbing your back. “It makes me so, so happy to hear that, my sweet starlight. Always want you to feel safe, loved, taken care of here.”

Your hands snake up the back of his shirt, needing to feel him closer, flesh on flesh. “The same goes for me, you know? If you ever need, or want…I want you to feel that way, too. I love taking care of you, too.”

Joel leans down and kisses the top of your head, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of you, wanting to solidify this memory for as long as his mind will allow him to hold it. He considers leaving the dishes in the sink to be tomorrow’s problem, wanting nothing more than to return to bed with you, but he knows he’ll be frustrated when the egg has glued itself to the pan and he has to really scrub to remove it. He reluctantly releases you from his embrace and turns back to the sink, washing the remaining plate before handing it to you to dry, and doing the same with the utensils and the old, salvaged steel pan.

Once you’re both satisfied with your work, you close down the kitchen in tandem, flicking off the lights and heading back to your room. You move to your respective sides of the bed—Joel going left, you going right—before climbing beneath the old, soft comforter. You’re both wiped from the day’s activities, opting to just turn the lights out rather than do your usual song and dance of reading for five minutes and falling asleep with the book splayed open on your chest, leaving Joel to gently dogear the page and set it on your bedside table before clicking off your lamp in fond exasperation. In the dark, you hear him shuffle, turning towards you.

“Hey, darlin’?” he asks, getting your attention.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can you, umm, would you hold me tonight?”

“Of course I will. C’mere, my sweet boy,” you answer. Joel turns over again and shuffles back, allowing you to snake your arm over his torso and bury your face in his shoulders. He holds your arm in place and it feels…right, so nice and comforting and he gets it.

“Thank you. For everything. Never known a love like this, but you make it so easy. Not sure how I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

“Just stay, Joel,” you answer simply, “stay with me. That’s all I want, all I need.”

And he thinks he can do that. And he sends up his own prayer, his favorite vow, to whatever god is listening, to let him stay with you forever, to let him love you until his dying day, that they owe you that much at least, your simple wish. He’ll do whatever he can to ensure it comes true. And as he drifts into unconsciousness, held safely in your arms, he thinks he never wants to be anywhere else.

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