This Entire Little Series Is Just Amazing, Hot, And Funny All Wrapped Into One. Jesus Lo! You Fucking

This entire little series is just amazing, hot, and funny all wrapped into one. Jesus Lo! You fucking genius! 😍😍😍

dress up Joel masterlist

pic by the wonderful @missredherring

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: Explicit (18+ only!)

general warnings: sex toys, dress up, festive/seasonal shenanigans, no use of Y/N, see individual fics for additional warnings

summary: when a mysterious stranger breaks into your house, and keeps breaking into your house, he gives you the fright, and the ride, of your life. Welcome to your seasonal encounters with one Mr. Joel Miller.

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ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

✨ = new 🖤 = smut 🌈 = fluff 💥 = angst

baubles🖤 - 4.4k Santa Joel fucks you with his balls. That's it.

stupid cupid🖤🌈 - 5.2k Joel makes a return to your home, this time with another gift to give. Will you be his Valentine?

egg hunt 🖤🌈💥 - 5.9k What lies for you beneath the bunny suit, and in his Easter basket, aren't the only surprises Joel has for you tonight.

ghosted 🖤🌈💥- 5.7k

✨stars and stripes 🖤- 5k Roles are reversed this Fourth of July when you surprise Joel with a little festive treat of your own.

extras

dress up Joel lore 🖤 What started as a simple joke from the youngest Miller brother quickly turned into a... beloved brotherly tradition. takes place prior to baubles.

interlude 🖤💥 Joel's egg hunt couldn't have gone worse, and so he confides in the one person who has his back no matter what - his baby brother. takes place between egg hunt and ghosted.

Jealous Joel is always a nice treat! 😍

The Sore Loser Joel x f!reader (one shot)

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!Reader (no detailed physical descriptions, no use of y/n)

summary: When a new heartthrob named Greg Hamilton moves into Jackson City its only a matter of time before he's labelled 'The new and improved Joel Miller.' So when Joel is challenged to a contest of who can bed more women in a week by him, he foolishly accepts. It's going fine until Greg decides to move in on the woman who works at the Tipsy Bison.  The young woman Joel secretly wants more than anything. 

warnings/tags: Age gap (not specified), Mutual pining, Idiots in love, Oral (f receiving), Masturbation (f + m), Nicknames (honey/baby)

masterlist

a/n: Y'all I wrote this today and I don't know why. The idea came to me and it was trying to morph itself into a series but I told it to calm the fuck down and just made it a one-shot. Lemme know what y'all think!

The Sore Loser

When Greg Hamilton moves into Jackson's community, everyone takes notice. He's late forties, broad, muscular with a trimmed beard and if his jeans are anything to go by, an absolutely amazing ass. When he smiles it feels sincere and when he rides his horse during patrol he looks like a cowboy ripped straight from the pages of a Larry McMurtry novel.  

Basically, he's like a newer and improved Joel Miller. 

Now, if you asked any of the women in town they would tell you that Joel Miller is undeniably attractive. Broad, strong, confident. Soft with Ellie and animals, hard with anyone who threatens the safety of his community. He's got dark eyes that make women swoon and full lips that make them blush. 

But where Joel is rough and recalcitrant, Greg is all smiles and charming. He laughs uninhibited, he helps people with their yard chores and he has the most beautiful green eyes ever seen on a man framed by thick lashes. 

Joel can't fucking stand him. Neither can Ellie who calls him a "phony piece of shit" and rolls her eyes when women in town make comments about how sexy he is. But she rolls her eyes even harder when the women openly lust after Joel. 

Greg was a firefighter before the outbreak, then in disposal in the QZ's. He's unmarried, and right now he's chatting up Sharron Wilson, the butchers assistant. She's giggling, twirling her red hair around her finger

"Another one for the Greginator," you murmur in amusement as you swipe a cloth over the bar top before sliding Joel Miller a tumbler of whiskey. He looks at you, confused. 

"Huh?"

You nod your head in Greg's direction. "He's running through the ladies here faster than cholera." 

Joel holds back a smirk at that. You’re funny. You're one of the few people Joel can stand without having to fake it. You're snarky and quick and the last time a drunken regular touched your ass you sprained his wrist citing "next time it'll be a break." 

Joel looks at you glancing across the crowded bar at Greg, an amused smirk on your lips. 

"He's annoyin'."

"And you're just a ray of sunshine, Miller, is that it?"

Joel smirks into his whiskey tumbler. 

The funny thing is, Greg and Joel have a lot in common: they're both older, both handsome, good at patrols and they don't have trouble finding female companionship. You've rarely seen Joel or Greg go an evening in The Tipsy Bison without some female attention. 

And while you'd never willingly admit it, you get jealous of every single woman who Joel takes home. Every single woman he turns his attention to because all you want is for it to be you. You bask in the warmth of his eyes when he shoots them at you, feeling delighted when he smirks at your jokes.

But you know you're not his type, too young, too loud, and too hardened from a post outbreak world. He's always with gentle women who fawn over him and speak softly. Who wear nice fabric and walk with delicate grace. You possess none of that. 

So you satisfy yourself with being his friend. Sometimes you play darts with him and Tommy on your days off, you serve him beer and pretzels at the Bison, sometimes you join him and Ellie at the dining hall on days you don't feel like cooking for yourself. 

And he's perfectly pleasant with you, funny and supportive when you have a bad day. But he's never looked at you the way he looks at other women. With that slow drag of his eyes up their bodies or the way he wets his lower lip. 

So you resigned yourself to never having him. And that's okay, there are lots of men in Jackson city and you get sex when you need. You have a life you find enjoyable. You just think a life that has Joel Miller in your bed would be better.

"Hey pretty girl," Greg says as he walks to the bar. 

"Hey yourself," you smile back. 

Greg is a shameless flirt and while he gives you plenty of attention there's never any follow through. But unlike with Joel, you don't care. Greg isn't your type, but he is handsome and it is nice to be flirted with. 

"Any chance you got any of that white wine in the back?" Greg asks, motioning to the storage room behind the bar. "From last time? Sharron was wondering."

"Lemme check."

You slip into the back room in search of the wine, unaware that both men are watching you leave before Greg casts his eyes over to Joel, giving the man a nod. 

“Miller."

"Hamilton."

It's no secret that Greg doesn't like Joel very much. Maybe it's a personality clash, maybe it's an alpha guy thing or maybe it's just because Joel is anything but friendly to him. Joel glances over at Sharron standing by the window, waiting for Greg to return. The pub is growing crowded, the noise heightening. Greg eyes Joel's whiskey. 

 "Good booze?"

"Better be," Joel mumbles. "Made it myself."

"No shit. And you drink it here? Why not at your place?"

"Better ambiance here," Joel shrugs. 

"I'll say," Greg laughs as he gazes at the group of women by the jukebox. "Can't beat this view."

Joel glances at Greg to follow his eyeline. He hides a smirk behind his whiskey tumbler as they watch Sharron being chatted up by Mark, one of the fencing guards. 

"Guess Sharron got bored." 

Greg frowns, looking at the woman giggling at Mark. 

"Ah, well, it's a young man's game."

"Don't know about that," Joel muses into his drink. "I do okay."

And it's true, he does. Joel doesn't often venture into town for sex, but when he does he rarely leaves unsatisfied. He's attractive, single, and everyone sees him with Ellie. Big, strong man with a heart of gold.  

"Is that so?" Greg says with levity as he spins on his stool to face Joel more fully. "You think you could do better?" 

"Sure could," Joel shoots back, emboldened by the whiskey. 

You exit the back room with a large bottle of the white wine Greg was referencing. When you see the two men looking acrimoniously at one another you roll your eyes. 

"I see a dick swinging contest is well underway," you remark with an eye roll as you pour the wine into the glass. "Here's your wine." 

"Thanks sweetheart," Greg says with a wink before looking back at Joel. 

Joel watches you leave your position from behind the bar to go start wiping down the tables of the Bison. You get caught into a conversation with one of your regulars, smiling as you clean. 

Joel watches you tilt over the table, grabbing the pint glass and he holds in a groan when your ass is firmly on display in your tight jeans. 

You're so fucking gorgeous; it's hard to concentrate at times. 

You're also young and smart and you don't need an old man like Joel sniffing after you like the creeps he sees here every week. 

However yhat doesn't stop him from fucking his fist at night to visions of you bouncing on his cock and begging for more. It doesn't stop him from rubbing one out in the shower with sinful thoughts of your mouth on him. 

"You think you're such hot shit, Miller?"

Joel drags his eyes back to Greg who has murmured just loud enough for Joel to hear. He's leaned forward, his alcohol soaked breath lingering in the space between he and Joel. 

"Let's see who the ladies like more. One week."

"One week what?"

"One week to see how many we can take to bed."

"S'fuckin' disgusting," Joel says with a grimace. 

"They're all adults," Greg insists. "What's the matter, Miller? Can't get it up anymore?"

Oh he sure can. And he does often, but only to thoughts of you. Even the sporadic times he’s taken a woman to bed since he met you, you’ve plagued his thoughts. And he can’t have you, can he? You’re too young for him. You have a whole life ahead of you, wheras Joel has what? A few decades at best?

And what Greg’s offering is something a little different. It's been so long since Joel felt that thrill of a challenge that wasn't life threatening. And what's the harm in a little excitement? 

“Fine.”

Joel doesn't miss how Greg's eyes linger on you clearing the tables. He feels himself bristle. 

"She's off limits."

"Bullshit," Greg says frowning. "Why?"

"She's a good friend. Don't want her caught up in this." 

Joel can't have you, but there's no fucking way you're going to be used as some pawn in this game. Especially not by Greg fucking Hamilton. 

"Fine. Deal."

Joel gives a crooked smirk at Greg before grabbing the wineglass you left behind. He takes it, standing. 

"Let's start now."

///

You wonder what Joel and Greg were arguing about earlier. You sneak a glance over your shoulder to see his sharp profile before turning back to your duties. 

You always find your thoughts drifting to Joel. His strong hands, his sexy voice, his ass in those jeans. Thoughts of him have warmed your bed on more than one occasion... Almost nightly since you first met him. 

You gather some of the empty pint glasses in your arms, turning to bring them back to the sink in the back. But you pause, watching Joel zig and zag through the crowd of patrons. He looks like a hunter after prey, his dark eyes locked on A figure by the jukebox. 

Sharron. 

You feel disappointment claw at your insides, dragging down under your ribs and making you wince. 

Joel approaches Sharron, holding a glass of the wine you brought out. You pretend to wipe the nearby table down, shielded by one of the taller regulars as you covertly watch. Joel says something that makes her laugh gaily, pressing a hand to his arm as she throws her head back. 

You watch him grin, his eyes raking over her body. He's so fucking gorgeous and you can't stand it. 

You turn, unable to watch them any longer. 

///

Joel knows that Sharron wants him. It's obvious as she presses closer to him, pretending the music makes it necessary to brush her mouth against his ear when she talks. 

"I was hoping you'd come up to talk to me, Joel."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," Sharron takes a sip from her wineglass, her tongue trailing suggestively around the rim. "Had my eye on you for a while."

Sharron is a lovely woman and even though she has the personality of a wet mop, she's very easy on the eyes. 

"Is that so," Joel grins, finding her tongue to be rather hypnotizing. "Tell me more."

Sharron giggles, pressing her mouth to Joel's ear again. But now her hands curl around the collar of his flannel, tugging him tightly against her. 

"Been wondering what your cock tastes like."

Joel can't deny the finger of pleasure that runs down his spine at her husky words. He swallows, his dark eyes finding hers.

"Wanna get outta here and find out?" 

Sharron giggles, nodding and placing her mostly full wineglass onto a nearby table. 

Joel feels a particular swell in his chest as he wraps his arm around her waist and leads her from the bar right in front of Greg. 

He gives Greg a little half salute, wanting to make sure he sees his company. 

"Night, Hamilton."

Greg frowns before giving Joel a polite nod. 

"Night Miller." 

///

It's Tuesday before the news starts to get around Jackson city about the unofficial official contest between Joel and Greg. Eager women are starting to flutter their eyes when the men walk past, asking Joel to come look at issues with their home repair and Greg for his suggestions on making their fireplaces safer. 

You don't hear about any of it because you keep to yourself. You never enjoyed idle gossip, and the end of the world doesn't change that. 

You do however notice when Joel takes a woman home from the Bison every night for five days straight because your jealousy makes it hard to breathe at times when you witness it. 

Joel is subtle, chatting up a beautiful woman, capturing her attention simply because he's Joel Miller and he barely speaks to anyone. It's not long before he has his arm banded around their waist, and is walking them home. 

Greg isn't far behind, usually chatting up some pretty young thing. For Greg it's usually the same story; find a girl, grab them a drink, maybe a slow dance, a little kissing of the neck and it's game over.

Seduction is different in this world. It's not like it was before outbreak day. Back then it was mind games and long flirtation. Now it's more recreational, a way to pass time, not as serious or romantic. 

You can't say you enjoy it much. 

///

Joel arrives into the Bison on day six of the contest, grateful it's almost over. While going home with the women was entertaining, there was a certain hollowness to it all, especially since he couldn't fuck any of them with his cock. He just went down on them, bringing them to crest night after night. 

The contest was to see how many he could get in his bed, after all. 

And he's ashamed to say that every time his mouth and tongue fucked them, it was images of you behind his eyes, fantasies of you moaning for him that made him groan as the women under his mouth writhed. 

And worst of all this game meant neglecting his favorite part of the evenings - being in your company; sharing a laugh over a tumbler of whiskey, playing darts. He wonders if you'll be up for a game tonight.  

He walks into the Bison, shaking off the chill of the evening and feels his body stiffen the second he sees you behind the bar.

Greg is at the barstool nearest to you saying something to make you laugh. You have a great laugh. The kind that makes your cheeks swollen and your eyes disappear. Unlike the majority of the women Joel's taken home this week you're so unapologetically you. You don't giggle and bat your eyelashes and say things to get him hard. He's harder at just the thought of waking up next to you in his bed. 

And normally seeing Greg harmlessly flirt with you would never bother Joel because he knows you'd never fall for that bullshit. Except it doesn't look harmless from where Joel is now standing in the crowded bar. Greg says something and reaches forward, pushing a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. 

Joel's fist tightens when he sees you blush, looking down at the bar top. 

Joel always stayed away from you because he thought he was too old and that you were too sweet with so much ahead of you. But here you are getting chatted up by a guy practically Joel's age? What the fuck? 

Joel strides up to the bar, sliding into his usual spot and gazing at you. 

"Hey Miller," you offer, smiling at Joel when he arrives, looking so beautiful it's almost hard to look at you. "The usual?"

Joel can only nod, watching as you pour his favorite whiskey and slide it towards him. His fingertips brush yours and he feels his throat constrict when you wink at him.  

"Enjoy."

Warmth spreads in Joel's chest when your eyes meet his, but it quickly dims when you turn your radiant attention to Greg who's smiling seductively at you.  

"You wanna get out of here, pretty girl?"

You smirk and Joel's jaw tics. 

"My shift doesn't end for another fifteen."

"I don't think they'll mind," Greg murmurs, his voice silken. "You work hard and deserve to relax."

Joel feels the back of his neck getting hot with every sentence shared between the two of you. You won't fall for this bullshit will you? 

Your eyes dart his way and then back to Greg. 

"Lemme check."

You disappear to the back to check with your coworker and Joel acknowledges that his teeth are grinding together almost painfully. He feels Greg's oily smirk without even looking. 

"Thought I told you she was off limits."

"She asked me out," Greg informs Joel sounding proud. Joel thinks he sees red before he blinks it away. 

"Bullshit."

"She sure did," Greg chuckles. "And that's not against any rules."

Joel tries to slow his angry breathing. 

Thinking of you with Greg has Joel's guts churning. He always assumed when you went off with some guy it would be a handsome young man that Joel could never compare to. But you pursued Greg?

Why not me?

All Joel can feel is the gut punch of perceived rejection. It makes breathing steady difficult as jealousy rears like a monster behind his ribs. Greg is oblivious to this, smirking over at Joel.

"Contest is almost over, old man."

"Glad it is." Joel sighs

"I'm makin' sure to go out with a bang," Greg tells him, finishing his pint with a smack of his lips. "Just left Sarah at her place an hour ago, then after I finish with everyone's favorite bartender I got...Brittany I think her name was."

"She know that?" Joel snaps. 

Greg almost laughs at the suggestion.

"Why the fuck would I tell her that?"

You step back out front the back room, skipping over to Greg and Joel and effectively ending their heated conversation. You smile sweetly at Greg. 

"I'm good to go."

"That makes two of us," Greg mumbles to himself as you clear the last of the bar top glasses. You turn, giving Joel one last smile. 

"Night, Joel." 

Joel can't even speak, he's so fucking furious. He just sits there, watching as Greg's arm bands around your waist and he leads you outside. 

///

Greg is handsome enough. He's funny and charming and you have It on good authority that he's good in the sack. All in all, it might be exactly what you need to shove the thoughts of Joel Miller straight from your brain. 

How much longer are you supposed to pine after a man who will never see you as a woman? A man who you have watched time and time again leave with women you could never hope to be? 

So no, Greg isn't your dream date. But he's nice and funny and that's good enough for right now. Who knows, maybe Joel will get married to one of the many women he's brought home this week. Maybe that will cure you of this aching unrequited affection. 

You step out of the Bison with Greg's arm still around your waist, allowing yourself to soften in his grip. 

"So you wanna check out the movie playing in town?" Greg asks you, walking slowly, enjoying the night breeze. 

"Yeah, sounds go-"

You're cut off by the sound of a door slamming open, hitting the side of the building as it does. You jump, turning when you hear a deep voice. 

"HAMILTON!"

It's Joel, looking furious as he streaks towards the two of you. He looks like a boxer entering the ring, all tensed up, hands in fists and a fiery look at his eyes as he glares at Greg. 

"Joel?"

Without warning Joel has launched forward and punched Greg across the face. The other man groans as you shriek. Greg's fingers swipe along his lower lip before he bares his teeth at Joel. 

"You split my lip you motherfucker!"

All at once Joel is pulling you by the wrist towards him. You stumble in his direction and without ceremony Joel lifts you up over his shoulder. 

You barely have time to react, letting out a belated shriek when you realize he's hoisted you over his shoulder like a bag of groceries. He aims a pointer finger at Greg. 

"You're not takin' her anywhere."

He stalks away from Greg who stands in shock, watching Joel carry you off in the direction of your home like some evolved caveman. The world slides by as Joel continues to haul you, his chest expanding with every furious step. 

Greg's far off voice sounds out. 

"Joel, what the fuck?"

He doesn't answer but you can hear Greg calling after the two of you, his footsteps drawing closer. 

Your hands go into fists and you punch at his kidneys and back. Joel grunts, but he doesn't stop walking. 

"Joel stop!" You cry out. "Please!" 

Joel feels you pounding on his back, insisting you let him down with a shriek. And it's like it shakes him from the frenzy from seconds before. He stops abruptly, blinking before he pulls you from his shoulder, sliding you down his front. 

"I'm sorry," he says gruffly, his voice soft. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I just saw you leavin’ with him and I just-“

He grunts as you push his chest and begin glaring at him, turning his attention back to Greg who is now standing and watching everything with a smirk on his face. Joel feels fury surge through his body again and he steps in front of you, effectively cutting you off from Greg.

"You're not takin' her home. You're not puttin’ your hands on her. You're not comin’ anywhere near her."

"Joel," you say sharply. 

“You don’t deserve her,” Joel continues. “She ain't for you.”

Why the fuck is he trying to cock block you right now? You aren't for Greg? Then who are you for?  Joel looks desperate, wild in a way you've never seen him before. It makes you nervous. Greg gets a strange look on his face as his light eyes move from Joel to you and then back again.

"Ohhh, I get it now," Greg says and despite his bloodied mouth he grins. 

Joel turns his attention on you, desperate to touch you. 

"He doesn't want you, baby," Joel rasps, "not really."

You’re momentarily stunned by the pet name before the reality of what's going on occurs to you. 

"Joel, just because you don't want me doesn't mean other men don't." 

You frown, trying to walk around him to get back to Greg. But Joel holds out an arm, keeping you from advancing. 

"Stop."

"I don’t know why it’s so unbelievable that someone would want to fuck me,” you say rolling your eyes. "I mean, you yourself have taken home a different woman every night this week."

"That was just the contest sweetheart," Greg explains patiently over Joel's shoulder. "I'm sure you've heard about it by now. The whole town is talking about it."

"Contest?" You look between the two men, feeling suddenly disgusted.

This is a game they're playing with you?

"Me and Miller bet who could land the most girls in a week," Greg explains and hearing it out loud makes Joel grimace. It sounds deplorable. 

This doesn't sound like the man you've been pining over for months. Or worse, what if it is? What if this is what Joel is really like? 

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

Joel looks ashamed, glancing down at his boots. 

"Because I couldn't have who I actually wanted," Joel sighs. "And I know that's a piss-poor excuse but it's the truth." 

You hate hearing that there's yet another woman that Joel wants. You scowl, hurt and furious all at once. 

"Okay, well, I'm not gonna be part of whatever sick game you two have going on." 

"You ain't part of the game," Joel insists. "You were always off limits." 

"Oh and why is that?"

Joel's cheeks go red. 

"Because I want you," Joel says, taking your hands in his awkwardly. "And not because of some stupid fuckin’ contest." 

You go quiet, staring at Joel. Joel Miller isn't exactly known as someone overly emotional. You feel a defensive sneer cross your features and you pull your hands from his. 

"You've never wanted me, Joel."

You walk away from him, only to be gently bear-hugged from behind. His mouth is at your ear, as if it's easier to confess this all to you without your eyes on him. 

"I've wanted you every damn day since I met you." Joel exhales slowly, not quite believing that he's sharing this with you. "Why do you think I drink my homemade whiskey at the bar on nights you work? Why do you think I play darts?"

"Because you like darts."

"I fuckin’ hate darts," Joel scoffs. "I do it because it means time with you."

You spin in his arms, looking at him with surprise. Your heart is thumping wildly in your chest. Is Joel actually telling you the one thing you've been dying to hear since you met him? 

"But you've never asked me out," you say shakily. "Never even indicated you liked me like that. And now some other guy does and you're magically attracted to me?" 

"Honey, it doesn't have anything to do with attraction," Joel insists, eyes traveling to your mouth and then your eyes. "If attraction was all it came down to I would've taken you to my bed the first night we met and never let you go." 

You're flushing all the way to your roots. Joel had never spoken to you like this before, all low and seductive and blunt. 

 "I never said anything because I didn't think you'd want someone like me," Joel says quietly. "I'm too old, too miserable-"

"Too stubborn," you add, and Joel doesn't miss the way the corner of your mouth ticks up in amusement. "Too bad at darts, but at least now we know why."

Joel chuckles relieved that you're not totally pissed off at him. His hand comes to cup your cheek, marveling at how soft you are. 

"Too funny and sweet," you continue as you gaze up at him, blushing fiercely now. "Too sexy." 

"You think I'm sexy?" Joel's voice drops an octave, his words coming out low and syrupy. 

"Since the day I met you, Miller."

And then with something that feels like sweet inevitability the two of you faces tilt towards each other and your mouths connect for a sweet and tender kiss. Joel drowns in it, wide hands coming to cup your face as he kisses you, reveling in the fact that you taste just as sweet and feel just as perfect as he knew you would. 

A throat is cleared nearby. It's like you both forgot Greg was still there. 

The two of you break apart, but Joel keeps a hand on the small of your back, holding you against him. He has no intentions of ever letting you go again.

"Contest is over, Hamilton. You win." 

Greg lets out a soft chuckle.

"Nah. I think you got me beat, Miller." 

Greg says nothing more; instead he looks between you both before walking in the direction of his home. 

Joel pulls you back towards him, licking into your mouth as you whimper for him, arms crooked around his neck. You feel so good, even better then he imagined because you're embracing him back, your lips keeping up with his. He feels your hips begin to roll against the bulge in his jeans and Joel breaks off to groan, his hands sliding to your ass. 

"We don't have to do anything more tonight," Joel murmurs against your lips. "I know this is all fast and-"

You drag his face back to yours, grinning.  "Shut up and keep kissing me."

Joel smiles against your lips and then he kisses you with gusto. You tilt your face, wanting more and more of him. Joel thinks he might burst from how good this all feels. He holds you in his arms and its like months of aching and longing are erased, it's like you've always been his. 

"Now, Miller," you say sternly even as you pepper his face with kisses. "I think we need a little contest of our own."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah," you coo as your mouth goes to his neck. "Whoever gives the most orgasms to their partner wins." 

Joel chuckles softly, sighing when your teeth come to nip just under his jaw. His hands tangle in your hair and he kisses you soundly before murmuring: 

"Can't wait to make you the sorest loser in Jackson City, baby.”

This is so good 🥵🫠🥵🫠

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | CW: Joel Miller x fem! reader; smut WC: 1.0k

I don’t know where I was going with this but it just came to mind on the fly and I felt the need to share before I went to bed so yeah. We are simply here for the vibes.

It was a mistake initiating this, that much you knew but you stopped giving a fuck after the second beer you downed. The transitions from point A at the Tipsy Bison to somewhere else for Point B seemed like a blur, a stop-motion film of your bad decisions playing before you on an endless loop.

Not that you cared enough to stop and watch.

Strong calloused hands dug into the skin of your thighs, nails pressing into the thick muscle and pulling you forward, ever closer. Needy fingers reached downward between your legs to grip onto graying curls and tugged with a soft yank, the other gripped on the old sheets underneath that smelled faintly of pinewood.

You could hear him, the loud slurping bordering on obnoxious with the circular movements of his tongue against your cunt. His grip was harsh if it wasn’t deprived, and as your heart pounded in your chest you finally opened your eyes to look at the culprit.

Joel Miller.

They warned you that he was dangerous, a man of terrifying stature. You heard stories about him in passing as if he were some folktale told to scare the children before bed, envisioning a boogeyman without a soul. It wasn’t until you arrived at Jackson and met him face-to-face on your third assigned patrol that you realized just how wrong they were.

Sure, the warnings matched somewhat. He was ruthless, a man with impenetrable skin despite the multitude of scars you counted from afar. You watched in awe at how efficiently he could bring down a clicker, or how the blade of his knife stained with crimson as he cut through a raider’s throat from behind.

There was a darkness in him, reminiscent of someone who had been tormented by his own demons for years. In a world like this where one already had so little, you took what you could get, and this wasn’t any different. He commanded any room he was in even if it were unintentional, it simply came with his reputation.

Joel made his bed years ago, and now he has to lie in it. But with you lying alongside him, the sentiment was preferable.

It should scare you, the twisted edge you could feel wash over him in waves with every step he took. You spotted it earlier when he walked through the doors of the bar and quietly sat himself down towards the far end. The last thing that should’ve happened was you striking up a conversation, attempting to grab his attention.

That darkness shone bright like a beacon in the night, and you were merely a moth to a flame.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned out loud, guiding his head right where you needed him and shifting your hips against the faded cut on the bridge of his nose.

He groaned against you and sucked harder at your clit, fingers working in tandem to bring you closer to the precipice and drink more of you. You tasted better than the stale beer he drank, and he ignored the bubbling guilt tearing at his gut by digging his face into you with an intense hunger.

Joel didn’t know how this happened, not that he was complaining. One minute, you were talking to him with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes that sent all the blood in his body drifting South. The next, he found himself plucking at the top of your shirt, meshing his lips hard against your mouth and grinding his hips with force.

Regardless of his rough exterior, he was a weak man to your charm and intrigue, and perhaps that constituted him as a selfish one too. But in this reality, the only thing one could do was take and take and take.

Another soft cry filled the four walls of his bedroom, huffs of your breath on par with the flicks of his tongue against your aching core. You were so close you could taste it, the pleasant contrast of Joel’s facial hair rubbing into your pussy making you crave more. You silently hoped to leave your mark and claim him for yourself, praying that he could still feel your presence when you left in the morning.

Two fingers thrust into you then, back arching off of the bed at the intrusion. They curved into a come hither motion, finding that hidden spot tucked away inside you with shocking precision, focusing all of their attention on pressing right there nonstop.

“Joel,” a broken gasp of his name drew his blackened hazel eyes to take in the bliss written over your features. He hummed in acknowledgment, trained ears playing the sound of your voice endlessly in his head. He couldn’t get enough, and from the way your lower stomach flexed, he knew you were about to cum by his touch.

“C’mon, give it to me sweetheart,” it was an order, a command, a dying man’s last wish. You couldn’t help but oblige.

Your thighs shook on his shoulders the moment your release hit, hands clutching at his scalp as he ripped one final moan from your throat. A feeling you’ve almost long forgotten coursed through you from the balls of your feet to the very top of your head. Like a tide hitting the shore, it flowed over you in calming motions until the water stilled and the pleasure simmered into numbness.

Joel placed a soft kiss against your twitching pussy one last time as you basked in the aftershocks, kissing your thighs and hip and trailing a path up your body before his lips met your own. You could taste yourself on the entirety of his upper lip, and as he grinned at you, your gaze held the same satisfaction he carried.

Who knew a bad idea could have such a pretty face?

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Lo has so much knowledge to share! 😍😘

baubles

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: ball fucking, ball sucking, balls, wall to wall all ball, BIV (ball in vagina), sex toys (the balldo [link to website] is real and it has haunted my dreams for 6 months - pic in this ask), there's some PIV too I guess. word count: too many and they're all balls 4.4k summary: Santa Joel fucks you with his balls. That's it.

A/N: I am NOT sorry. Not now, not ever. And, yes, I watched the instructional video on how to put it on, purely for Research Purposes. We don't talk about how long I've spent thinking about balls.

Happy Ball-idays, don't say I never got you anythin' nice.

...

Santa Joel-y, slip your ballsack right into me, oh gee.

I've been a fuckin' good girl,

Santa Joel-y, so stuff 'em up my chimney tonight.

...

It was your first Christmas in Texas and your first Christmas in a place that felt unseasonably warm for the time of year. That's what you tell yourself every night as you strip off completely before slinking into bed, at least.

Except, this night is different.

It's Christmas Eve.

And someone is in your house. You're sure of it.

A click of a button and you're on your feet, creeping to your bedroom door to listen out for the intruder. You almost didn't hear it, too preoccupied to be on the lookout for burglars on Christmas Eve.

There's a tell tale rustle, the stomp of feet. Whoever it is, they're not even trying to be quiet. You'd respect the brazenness of it all if someone hadn't broken into your damn house. You toy with calling the cops, maybe a neighbor, but you know it'll be too late by the time anyone gets here to do anything, so you make the stupid decision to head downstairs and confront the intruder alone.

Wrapping your flimsy bath robe around yourself, you grab the nearest makeshift weapon you can find (a broken umbrella you still hadn't thrown away) and click the door open, slinking out into the hallway and down the stairs.

If he hears you before you get down the stairs, he doesn't let on. But there, right in front of your Christmas tree is the unmistakable figure of a man. A big man. He's tall, and broad, and his silhouette is wrapped in something fluffy, making it look like there's a giant teddy bear standing in your living room.

You flick the light on, startling him, making him drop a heavy bag undoubtedly filled with your things onto the floor with a heavy thud.

"Oh, shit."

A single ornament rolls out of the bag and across the floor. You both stand frozen and silent, watching it move until it knocks against your bare toes. Only when it's stopped do you drag your eyes back up to look at the man who broke into your house.

Your umbrella clatters to the floor.

"What the...?"

The man before you is dressed as Santa, hat and all.

Only this man was not as old as you would expect for someone claiming to be Santa Claus. His beard is patchy, the scruff around his chin only speckled with gray. He has lines around his eyes, crinkled divots in his skin from so many years of laughter. The red coat pulled around his form is unbelted, falling open at the middle to reveal a white vest and the soft swell of his belly.

"What the fuck are you doin' in my house?" you yell.

"Shh, quit your fuckin' hollerin'."

He takes a step toward you and you back into the wall, trying to keep your distance from the very Texan man who had broken into your house dressed as Santa on Christmas Eve.

And that's when you see behind him, to the glittering lights of your Christmas tree, and the branches covered in ornaments. Ornaments that did not belong to you. You'd bought the thing on sale at the grocery store just a week ago. When you put it up and plugged it in, grateful for the existence of pre-lit trees, you settled on the fact you wouldn't decorate it this year. Even so, it was beautiful as it was, and you enjoyed the soft glow of the lights in the evenings as you wound down after work. Now, that soft glow was accompanied by the twinkling reflections of the many ornaments hanging on it.

"Did you... did you decorate my tree?"

He looks at you like you're mad, and maybe you are. Maybe you came so hard on your vibrator upstairs that you passed out, and this is all a dream. A very vivid dream where you can smell the warm oaky scent of the man in front of you and feel the heat of him as he crowds you against the wall.

"What else do you think I've been doin'?" he says, as if it should be entirely obvious that he's been here decorating your tree all along.

"I don't know, maybe stealing my shit?"

He, once again, looks at you like you're stupid and gestures to his suit, red and velvety, draped around his body. It looks good on him, and does nothing to help the thick syrupy feeling still coursing through your veins. Having a man like him break into your house felt like one of lifes great injustices, but having him break in when you were mid-jerk off was purely inhumane. Other than point to the door and tell him to get out, there was nothing you could do but gape at him and hope he didn't notice you curl your toes as he looked at you.

He takes a step closer, heavy boot falling with a thud in front of you, and shrugs. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back."

Up this close, the smell of him goes straight to your head, your body seemingly ready and rearing to go at the slightest hint of something masculine in your presence. Your tongue suddenly feels too big and clumsy so, not trusting a single word that would come out of your mouth, you shake your head. You would actually, really, very much like the decorations to stay and the man who put them there.

Texas always felt hot to you, but something about this room was now super heating. You're keenly aware of the stickiness pooling between your thighs, and even more aware of the visible sheen of sweat on your head and the warmth in your cheeks. If he looked closely, he'd even be able to see glistening on your fingers, making you look glitter coated in the twinkle of the Christmas lights. You shift, trying to mask the buzzing in your veins at his eyes as they drag down your body.

You hadn't noticed the silky tie of your robe slowly loosen as you wiggled and fidgeted. You were too warm to notice when the fabric parted, gaping over your chest and giving him a perfect view of your tits. You were too busy staring into his deep brown eyes to notice him raise his hand.

You did, however, feel the moment his finger stroked a slow trail down the swell of your breast, puckering your nipple and making a shudder run through your spine.

"You're all unwrapped, darlin'," he whispers, just as you remember to breathe again. "S'gettin' a bit warm in here, huh?"

He absentmindedly discards his hat as his finger traces down your body, flicking the light back off behind you once his hat hits the floor. You know where he, and this, is heading, and you're not keen to stop it any time soon.

When his fingers stroke across your mound, you gasp. Your vibrator had made you sensitive, but you'd never had chance to finish the job, and now here he was threatening you with a good time. He cups you, completely engulfing your pussy in his broad hand, and slides it between your legs.

By now it's no secret you're already wet, your upper thighs already sticky with it. His fingers slide through with ease, the quirk of his eyebrow visible now his hat has been thrown to the side.

"Here I was thinkin' you were on the nice list. But this little thing right here tells me you're naughty as they come, darlin'. What you been doin' to yourself all alone up there in the dark?"

You're staring at him opened mouthed as he works is thick fingers over you, dragging slick over your already sensitive clit. You'd been moments away from coming when the noise from downstairs pulled you out of it, and now here he was working you back up and quickly.

"It's my house," you stutter. "Can do what I want." And right now you want to collapse into a heap on the floor with his fingers between your legs.

"That you can. You wanna go back up there and finish yourself off?"

Logically, you know your pre-orgasm desperation is clouding your judgement, that you should take him up on his offer to leave and put a stop to this, but there's something too enticing about him. You don't want to stop.

"Or do you maybe want a hand with your... Little problem?"

"Yeah," you're nodding, eyes so heavy now you want them to snap shut, but you can't resist looking at him in the glow of your Christmas lights. Red really suits him, and you swear you can see his cheeks get rosy in the dim lighting.

"S'good. Got some little problems here myself. But, seein' as you're already halfway there, seems only fair to get me to your level before we start anythin', don't you think?"

Biting your lip, you nod, taking a step closer to him. Tentatively, you reach out a hand and caress the front of his pants. They feel velvety soft, and you have no fucking clue how he doesn't look as sweaty as you feel.

"That's right. You feel that?"

You feel something grow beneath your palm. Big, thick, and heavy. You look down in stunned silence, seeing only the odd shadows cast by the Christmas tree lights sparkling over the front of his pants.

"Get on your knees and close your eyes."

You obey, wanting very much to stay on the nice list now that you know exactly what you want for Christmas. His belt jingles as he undoes the buckle, pulling it from his waist and discarding it on top of his bag. He can't resist giving his dick a quick squeeze over the fabric of his pants at the sight of your bare chest heaving in the twinkling light, before unzipping them and letting them fall down to his ankles. The fabric is so loose he can step out of them, easily tugging his booted feet from the legs.

It doesn't go unnoticed that you spend the entire time eyes closed, listening attentively, and gently rocking your hips, discreetly humping the air in a desperate attempt to find any kind of relief.

"Tsk, got an impatient one on our hands."

The same hand he'd been stroking your pussy with wraps around his cock, slowly dragging his sticky fingers up and down his rapidly hardening length. He wishes he'd told you to strip, or left the light on so he could see you more clearly, but something about your skin under the sparkling lights and the shadows cast between your legs is making him harder more quickly than ever. When his dick twitches in his hand at your deep sigh, he finally stops staring and speaks.

"Open your eyes."

You snap them open, eager to see what he has for you, and your eyes immediately turn the size of dinner plates.

His cock gorgeous, and even in the grip of his large hand it looks big. He's long, thick with a slight upward curve and a smattering of salt and pepper hair at the base. You're fairly certain he trims it, keeping it well groomed and flush to his skin, making his cock appear even larger as it juts out infront of him.

But, despite the gloriousness of this mans cock, what you can't get over are his balls. They're heavy, and full, and getting tighter and tighter as his cock hardens under your gaze. You flick your eyes up to his face and he has a knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

"Fuck," you say as you look back down at it, at them, and let out a shaky breath.

His whole body shakes with a laugh, jingling his bells, as you take in his length. Hand never leaving his cock, his gentle strokes become firmer, and he's guiding the tip toward your face a moment later.

"What should I call you?" you ask, realizing you don't even know his name yet, just as his tip touches to your lips. Exhilarating as it was to fuck a man who had broke into your house, you still wanted to know his name, and not even to press charges - you wanted to know what to scream when you came.

"Santa works just fine."

Pulling back, you scoff, "You want me to call you Santa Claus?"

"Fuck no! Do I look like a Claus to you? S'Joel."

"Santa Joel?"

"Fuck yeah darlin', now open up."

You stick out your tongue, waiting for his cock to slide along the spit slicked muscle. He drags his tip across it, letting you lick at his head before you capture his cock in your mouth, sucking it in and flicking your tongue lightly on his frenulum. The salty sweet taste of him makes you crave more, so you draw him further into your mouth, sliding up and down his cock as he stares down at you with an open mouth.

Dragging your hands up his bare thighs, you grab the base of his cock with one, steadying him as you suck. You tickle the other across his balls, looking up at him as he pulls in a sharp breath, before grabbing them and massaging them. His balls feel entirely smooth to the touch, and you have an irresistible urge to put them in your mouth.

Dragging your lips back from his cock, you lick broadly up the length of it again and again until you're dragging your tongue across his ballsack, slowly trailing up his cock to his tip, watching him all the while. Then you kiss his balls, humming in satisfaction as you finally press your lips to the soft skin.

The sight of you on your knees, making out with his balls is sending him stupid, and all he can do is stare down at you with a look of deep concentration on his face. If he's not careful, he's going to blow his load early, coming in your hand before he even gets to fuck you.

He watches you lightly drag your teeth over his delicate ball skin. He swears he sees your eyes flicker with something deserving of the naughty list when you hear his intake of breath, but he's too preoccupied by your tongue lathing across them to take much notice. You take it in turns with them, sucking each ball into your mouth as you slowly pump his cock in your fist, before releasing and working on the other. By the time you've had enough, his cock is dripping, smearing pre-cum over your hand as you jerk him.

Licking the drippy mess off of your hand, you look up at him, savouring the taste of his cum in your mouth.

"Please tell me you want to fuck me," you say, biting down on your swollen lips. You don't know what you'll do if he says no now, you know going back upstairs to your vibrator just won't cut it, even if you now have the fantasy of kissing Santa's balls to get off to.

"You kiddin' me, darlin'? Get up here."

Relief and desperation wash through you, and you climb off your aching knees, letting your robe fall from your arms.

"Couch?" you say, keeping a firm grip on his cock as you stroke up his chest. He pulls you toward him, holding the back of your neck as he kisses you, tasting his cum and balls on your tongue. His lips are impossibly soft, just like his balls, a stark contrast to the scratch of his beard.

Moving to the couch, you bend over, wiggling your bare ass for him. He chuckles, stepping closer to you and marvelling at the lights dancing over your jiggling backside. He shucks off his own coat now, leaving him in just his vest and boots, and hones in on the peek of your pussy from between your legs.

Sliding his length up and down your slit he groans, gripping your hip in his massive hand just as he notches at your entrance.

"Well, shit, that's nice," he says, sliding his tip into you.

You're inclined to agree - it had been a long time since anyone other than yourself had fucked you, and the red hot feeling of his hard cock in you felt better than you remembered. He rocks his hips a little, drenching his cock in you bit by bit until he's fully sheathed inside your eager pussy. The solid beat of your heart throbs through your veins and straight to your core, making you clench around him as he begins to fuck you.

"You're gonna yank my dick clean off if you keep that up."

"Can't help it," you moan, "Feels so good." You let your eyes close, succumbing to the slow, steady, pleasure building in you.

Snapping his hips more firmly, he bottoms out in you over and over, pushing deep inside you with each thrust. You can feel his wet balls slap against you, rhythmically whacking into your clit, but it's not enough. You're so desperate to come you lick your fingers and reach between your legs, swiping your digits over your clit. His balls instead slap against your fingers and you can't resist trying to stroke them again.

The noises you're making are going straight to Joel's dick, and he knows he's going to blow his snowy load way before he's ready if you don't stop, so he pulls away from you. You protest as his cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and still desperate to come.

"Got a present for you," he pants from behind you.

"The ornaments?"

"Yeah. Got some real pretty baubles for you, darlin'. You'll like 'em. I promise."

He goes to his bag, long forgotten on the floor, and bends over it. You watch his soft ass and the swing of his dick and balls as he rummages around inside the sack, pulling out two things before standing up. When he doesn't immediately turn back around, clearly playing with his own cock, you start to worry that you're not satisfying him. But then he rounds on you and you see his cock and balls glisten wetly in the twinkling Christmas lights just as he throws a bottle at you. Lube.

Catching him opening another box, you gasp and draw your hand to your chest in mock shock.

"Is that not my present to open?" you say coyly, now trickling lube over your own pussy. You don't need it, but whatever he has in mind clearly calls for it.

"Good things come to those who wait."

"I'm still waiting for the coming part."

He shoots you a admonishing look and you raise your hands in surrender, before snaking one back down to keep rubbing at your clit. You're about to go mad if you don't come soon, your clit is so sensitive, a firm nub between your legs now, and your pussy so puffy from so much stimulation. It's a wonder you have any blood left in your brain at all.

The object in the box is revealed, and you can do nothing but gape at it as Santa Joel proudly holds it up with a hand on his hip.

It looks like a torpedo cockring hybrid, and you have no fucking clue what it is.

"Get yourself comfy, gotta strap myself in."

Laying back on your couch - for all its flaws, an armless couch certainly had its benefits - you spread your legs and watch him with curiousity. You still can't work out what it is.

"What is -"

And then he stretches the silicone underneath his balls, pushing each ball into the cage with his thumbs before letting go. Oh.

Oh. "Oh."

You sit in stunned silence. He's turned his balls into a dick or, more accurately, a dildo. With the length of it and the girth of his balls, you can only imagine what it's going to feel like.

"If you don't fuck me with that in the next two seconds I'm gonna scream."

With the contraption strapped around his balls, pulling them down and taught, crouches over you, pushing your legs back so your pussy is pointing skyward like a sloppy wet landing pad for his balls.

He dunks the tip of the dildo into your pussy. It's cold and unfamiliar, not like the velvety warmth of his dick that stands straight ahead of you, taunting you with its glistening tip. If you could fold yourself in a pretzel you would, just to suck the head of his cock back into your mouth.

He pushes down, squatting over you with bare legs, sheathing the entire dildo into you. Another push and you feel the swell of his balls as they pop past your entrance and nestle themselves inside of you.

You gasp. The feeling is wholly unfamiliar, but still you feel yourself soaking him, slicking up his balls as they sit in your pussy.

"That hurtin'?"

"No. No, it's just I- I've never had someone's balls in me before."

"A first ball fuckin' for this little pussy," he says affectionately, stroking a thumb over your lips as they wrap themselves around his balls. His cock is protruding out of you now, like you're wearing a life like strap, and you really wish you could reach to taste where his tip threatens to drip onto you. Suddenly you understand the boys back in highschool and their failed attempts to suck their own dicks.

"They feel so big inside," you moan as he begins to gently shift above you. He pops out of you once, and pushes back in, and you throw your head back onto the soft sofa woth a moan. You have never felt anything like this. "Joel, please don't stop. Please keep fucking me with your balls."

"You got it darlin'," his voice is soft, in awe of you as you take his balls and the toy deep inside you. You feel incredible, and the wet slip of your walls on his ball skin shoots straight down his dick, and for a moment he thinks he's accidentally came too early. A quick look from your face, contorting with the fullness in your pussy, down to where his dick sticks outward, tells him otherwise. Thank fuck. He knows he has to get you off quickly. You were soaking his dick not too long ago, and before that his fingers, and before that your own sheets upstairs. You were ready, and he was nothing if not a giving man.

His thumb finds your clit, slippery from lube and your own slick, and he circles it, applying a firm pressure as he moves.

"Oh my god, that's it," you plead, opening your eyes to look at where he plays with you, balls still sunk deep.

You spur him on, rocking your hips as much as you can with your legs back, fucking yourself on his balls as he strokes your clit. You feel your pussy tense, little spasms warning you of what's to come, and you hold on tight to your own legs.

"That's it darlin'. Come on my balls. Squeeze 'em."

"F-fuuuck."

The swipe of his thumb sends you over, and you come hard on his balls with your head back and eyes squeezed shut. Your legs shake and you know he can feel how you twitch and spasm around his balls, drenching them as he dunks them in you, shallowly thrusting them as you tighten and grip him hard.

He's holding your legs back for you, looking you in the eye as he bends forward over your limp body when you open your eyes. The feral look on his face tells you he hasn't come yet, and you're desperate to see when he does.

"You been so nice I'm gonna give you an extra present. You ready?"

"Please Santa Joel, I've been so good this year," you say with a soft smirk.

He soon wipes the smirk off your face when he fucks down into you harder, practically bouncing off your ass as he slots his swollen balls into your pussy. They feel so big and heavy inside you, and even strapped down and pulled tight by the toy, you feel his balls tighten and try to draw up closer to his cock as he gets closer to coming.

"Come on me. Please. Come on me," you beg, staring between his cock and his face. Pre-cum had been steadily dripping onto you, splattering your belly, but you were hungry for more.

His fingers grip around his flushed head, stroking easily over the slicked surface. Pushing his balls deep, he bounces gently, loving the feel of his sensitive ball skin inside of your soaked hole.

"Here it comes, darlin'. Oh shit."

"Yeah, come on me. Come all over me Joel."

"Shit. Fuck."

You watch his slit as it seems to wink at you before ropes of come spurt out of the tip, shooting across your chest and neck, spattering your face and even your hair with his cum.

"Yes, yes, thank you," your eyes have snapped shut. You can feel the warm trickle of cum by your eyebrow, and you're not keen to feel the sting of semen in your eye.

For a little while he looks at you, fucked out by his balls and laying boneless on your couch. With a soft pop he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty without his balls in you. Your legs flop down and you listen to his deep breaths.

"Nothin' like a ballgasm," he pants.

Nothing like being ballfucked, you think, but the words are heavy in your mouth and you do nothing but moan, mumbling some nonsense.

"Mm... balls. They... mm. Yeah. Good."

"Too fucked out, huh?" he laughs, before swiping the cum from near your eye. "Make a Christmas wish," and he slips the finger into your waiting mouth.

He slides his finger from your mouth and you murmur a thank you as you make your wish, sighing and letting yourself relax completely for a moment.

When you tentatively open your eyes, wary of any errant drops of cum, he's gone, disappeared as soon as he'd arrived. You didn't hear the door, the window, anything. You certainly didn't hear him get dressed.

Feeling stupid, and like maybe it was all just a dream, you rush to the window. You don't expect to see anything, the man feeling too magical to have been real. But, there he is, walking down the street bare assed, his pants slung over his shoulder and his balls still swinging strapped into the toy.

No, you don't think you'll be forgetting your first Christmas in Texas any time soon at all.

next part

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😭

This was so sweet and had the perfect amount of spice to go right along with it! ❤️

Thank you Anon for this request!

A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Living in Jackson during the apocalypse doesn't do anything to curb your desire to have a child. The problem is, most of the men in town are unavailable... except for one.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, breeding kink (given the request, obv), language, friends to lovers, mentions of anxiety, infertility, pregnancy, angst, pining, alcohol

WC: 3.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you first asked him, he thought you were crazy.

He stared at you in complete disbelief, his gaze flickering down to the drink in your hand, trying to recall how many you had to propose something so insane. But it was only one.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Mhmm," you said confidently. "I've thought about it for a long time. I want a baby and the men in this town are either taken or have the mental fortitude of a child," you joked nervously. "You're neither of those things. Besides... I trust you."

His eyes softened for a moment and he dropped his gaze to the table. You had known Joel for the better part of five years, and while at first he was brash and gruff, throughout countless patrols and fights against infected where you had to have each other's backs, you had grown rather close. Neither of you ever crossed the line past friendship, and you had never even thought about it until recently when your anxiety was keeping you up late at night, wondering if you would ever find a man and settle down to start a family.

It was a luxury in this life, to be sure. The population of Jackson wasn't very large, but in five years you had come to get a good read on most of its citizens. And you kept coming back to the same conclusion: the man for you was not there.

So after much thought and self-reflection, you worked up enough courage to get a drink with Joel after your route and ask him if he would be willing to give you a baby.

You followed up by telling him you would be solely responsible, that you would do all the work and he could be as involved in the child's life as much as he wanted to be, if at all, while he sat there dumbstruck.

Now he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck nervously as he weighed your proposal.

"Can I think 'bout it?" he finally asked.

"Oh, god, of course!" you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise that he was considering it at all. "However much time you need."

But that was almost a month ago. Each day that passed you became more anxious, more impatient, and it was beginning to sour your mood.

On that particular day you were checking out the park rangers outpost hidden deep within the Wyoming forest. The building was up within the trees, providing the park rangers in the past a bird's eye view of the forest, and now it gives Jackson the same.

Joel was scribbling something in the log book while you strolled aimlessly around the cabin, opening and shutting drawers loudly, already knowing what was in them but just looking for something to do.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he mumbled over his shoulder, his focus still on the book.

"No," you said defensively, but when you angrily began to struggle with a window that refused to open, it became clear you were lying.

"Here, lemme help," he offered, dropping the pencil and walking to your side of the room.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help," you snapped, though you obviously did.

His hands gripped your shoulders and forcibly moved you out of the way before he took hold of the window and gave it a quick jerk, loosening the window in it's frame and finally allowing fresh air in.

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes before breezing past him.

"This attitude 'bout the window or 'bout what you asked me?" he challenged, stopping you dead in your tracks. Slowly, you spun around, unsure what to say.

"The window," you finally answered, then shifted your weight and shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little of both."

"Mhmm," he said, advancing toward you. "Thought so."

"Well... have you thought about it or are you just trying to come up with a nice way to say no?"

He frowned and propped his hands on his hips. "Now why d'you think it's a no?"

"Because you haven't said a single word about it in a month," you told him like the answer was obvious.

"Well maybe the answer's yes but I don't know how to casually bring up into polite conversation that I'm ready to knock up my goddamn friend!" he argued.

You stared at him, jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"Wait, really?" you whispered.

He nodded and scrubbed his palms over his face. "Yeah, I mean... if you still wanna or... whatever," he grumbled.

The first time was bad, to put it mildly. Your kisses were all teeth, chins and noses bumped together awkwardly. You had hoped once you got down to it that it would have gotten better, but you were wrong. Your rhythms were all off, you hit your head on the end table, and Joel nearly fell off the couch at one point. Needless to say, you didn't come. It was a miracle he did by the end of it.

Afterwards, you both sat there, catching your breaths and wondering if you made a huge mistake.

No, it wasn't a mistake. It was always a means to an end. Ultimately, it didn't really matter if the sex was good or not, the end result would be the same.

Still...

"I'm not usually that bad," you finally said, breaking the thick silence. He groaned and tipped his head back to rest on the couch.

"Me either. I swear, I ain't lyin'. I never usually..." he trailed off, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. "We'll try again. Back home. In a bed. That's the problem. It's gotta be, right?"

"Yeah," you nodded, not fully believing him but at that point, what could it hurt?

The next time was the following day at your home. It was a little better than the first time, but not by much.

"It doesn't matter, Joel," you assured him, tugging your blanket over your chest.

"Matters to me," he said defensively. "I'm too in my head or somethin'. It's still weird, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it's weird," you agreed.

"It's too planned out. Maybe it's gotta be more natural. More... spontaneous."

"Yeah," you agreed.

A couple evenings later one of the other men on patrol was having a bonfire at his home and invited a handful of others, you and Joel included.

Ten or so people sat around a roaring fire, tossing back whiskey and playing cards or swapping war stories. The alcohol made you feel warm and relaxed, your limbs as loose as your tongue when you joked around with the others, joining in on the teasing when a seasoned patrolman admitted to shooting off a crossbow at a leaf that fell just a little too loudly in the woods.

Then you felt a hand on the small of your back and you turned, your eyes glassy and face warm from the booze and the laughs. Joel stood beside you looking just as at ease as you and he gave you a knowing look.

For once, you were on the same page. Neither of you said a word.

You made your excuses, said your goodbyes, and slipped into the night. It was quiet, the rest of the town asleep, so it was easy to hear Joel's voice carry over the wind a few minutes later when he announced his departure, your heart skipping an excited beat in your chest.

He didn't hurry to catch up with you and you were glad. It helped. The anticipation built up on the walk home, and for the first time you felt a warmth bloom between your legs. Your fingers shakily worked your front door when you heard his steps growing closer, the crunching of gravel growing louder and louder until your door swung open and the squeak of old wood under his boots as he walked up your stairs echoed in your ears.

You didn't bother to turn the lights on. His hands were on your waist instantly, kicking the door closed behind him as his mouth crashed against yours with a groan. All you could hear was your shared breath and the rustling of fabric, each of you working to strip the other of their clothes as quickly as possible.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the spontaneity of it. Whatever it was, it was better. Oh, so much better.

Somehow you had made it to your bed and you had never been more grateful to have a small ranch home in your life. When he first pushed inside, you moaned and arched your back off the mattress and his teeth gently grazed your collarbone, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. Instantly, you found a rhythm. Your hips rolled to meet his at the perfect time, his hands squeezed and pinched your breasts while his tongue invaded your mouth, only sliding down to cup your ass when he sensed it was becoming too much.

"More," you moaned into his mouth, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He alternated between snapping and grinding his hips, the mix of sensations quickly bringing you over the edge.

You could feel the excitement in his body when he finally made you come. Like he was reenergized and focused, like he had finally accomplished what he set out to do.

"Come for me, Joel," you whispered in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. You could tell he was close by the way his muscles tensed and the deep groans emanating from his chest.

"Yeah? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?" he growled, the dirty talk sending a jolt of surprise through you. Before, he had been so quiet. This was new.

"Yeah," you whispered back, "want you to fuck a baby in me. I want everyone to see what you did to me."

He groaned so loudly you wondered if it could be heard from outside. His teeth sunk down into your shoulder when he came, muffled words being spoken into your skin as he shot thick ropes of his seed deep into your womb, only slowing when his legs began to shake and he collapsed on top of you with a huff.

"Fuck," he gasped, still trying to catch his breath on top of you. "That was..." he trailed off with a chuckle and you felt him swallow tightly. "That was much better."

"Yeah," you whispered, your eyes sliding shut as your fingers gently raked through his hair. You didn't even realize you were doing it or how intimate it seemed considering your arrangement, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he leaned into it a bit as he waited for his heartrate to slow.

Once he collected himself, he propped himself up on his hands and slowly eased out of you with a hiss.

"Can you hand me-"

"Yeah," he said, already knowing you were asking for the small, firm pillow you used last time to prop your hips up, and gave it to you. With a groan, he got to his feet and went to your bathroom while you tucked your knees against your chest, hoping you were getting the angle right.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he handed you a wet washcloth to use when you were done, then began to dress.

He glanced at your face, then your hips propped up in the air.

"You need anythin' else?"

"No, I think this'll do," you joked, and he chuckled before he stood.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow?"

"Yep," you said with a smile, then watched him as he left your bedroom and listened while he slid his boots back on and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving you all alone.

"Fuck, it better work this time," you muttered as you bounced up and down on Joel's lap, your hands digging into his shoulders for support as you slid up and down on his cock. His hands held your waist, guiding you while you rode him on his couch, his eyes transfixed on where you were connected.

"Gotta relax. I told you, it ain't gonna work if you stress yourself out," he replied, eyes still glued to the way his cock emerged from your clutch even wetter than before.

"It's been six months, Joel," you whined, but he shushed you by slanting his mouth over yours. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't mind when you came to him each month with a look of dejection when your efforts inevitably failed. He felt bad for you, don't get him wrong, but he had grown very fond of the one week every month you found yourself wrapped around his cock.

His thumb found your clit and he felt you tense and your mind went blank. Perfect.

"'S'right," he murmured, watching your face go slack, "just turn off that pretty little head of yours for a minute and lemme take care of you."

You nodded, eyes sliding shut as your hips began to work faster, rolling and grinding down on him until your nails dug into his skin and you cried out his name. Fuck, he loved hearing that. It didn't take much more for him to come, his hands gripping your sides so tight, he was afraid he might leave bruises as he thrusted up into you, giving you every last drop of his release.

"Goddamn," he whispered, head falling back onto the couch as he panted for air.

"Shit," you gasped, voice a little cracked. "Shoulda finished with me laying down. It's gonna leak out when -"

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you and, still plugging you with his cock, twisted around so you were laying flat on the couch and he was hovering above you.

"Better?"

"Much," you giggled, playing with a stray curl over his ear. You gazed warmly at one another, neither of you saying a word as your pulse slowed and his cock softened.

"Thank you for doing this for me, Joel," you whispered, your eyes drifting all over his face, taking in every little detail.

He nodded and swallowed then forced himself to look away. If he didn't, he was worried you would see too much.

He slid out of you and grabbed a pillow, handing it to you blindly before standing and strolling to his bathroom. After he cleaned up, he leaned over his sink, hands curled around the cracked vanity, and stared at his reflection in the mirror with a pit in his stomach.

How did he let this happen?

He should have known. The morning before you came over, he had a bad feeling. Like something had shifted in the air, something had changed without his permission and it left an empty feeling in his chest.

The overly excited knock on his door as he sipped his coffee almost made him want to pretend he wasn't home, that you weren't about to bounce into his kitchen holding two white sticks with a huge grin plastered across your face. But he didn't, and you did.

Either he really sold his reaction to your news well or you were too elated to notice his heart being ripped from his chest.

It was over. You were pregnant, and you no longer needed him. You would no longer come by every month and keep his bed warm. You would no longer share breakfast with him or talk to him about the books you were reading. He would go back to being utterly and completely alone.

It took a good month or two, but he adjusted back to his normal life. You still did patrol runs with him, which he protested, but when you finally began to show around five months, you agreed to stop and found a different job in town, instead.

That made his chest crack back open. Now he hardly ever saw you. It was bad enough he didn't get to be with you, taste you, fuck you anymore, but now he didn't even get to hear your voice. Occasionally he would see you in the dining hall or in the street and you would always talk to him, but it wasn't the same. Meanwhile, you walked around Jackson with his child growing in your belly, your shirts straining against the swell of your womb, the life he put inside you blooming before everyone's eyes. And all he wanted to do was claim you, right there in the center of town for everyone to see. For everyone to look in awe at what the two of you had created together.

One evening he was sitting alone in front of his fire, sipping whiskey and staring blankly into the flames. He had a decent life, considering the circumstances. So why couldn't he just be happy?

Then a rap came at his door. Urgent and loud. He placed his tumbler down and quickly went to open it, surprised to find you waiting on the other side.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, one hand over your round stomach. His eyes dropped down to take you in before he met your gaze again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you replied with a look on your face that told him you didn't realize he would obviously panic about your wellbeing at this point in your pregnancy. "Sorry, I just - can I come in?"

"Yeah, 'course," he said, stepping aside to open the door wider. You toed off your boots and shrugged off your jacket, allowing him to take it from you and hang it up before you wandered into his living room. Your eyes fell on his abandoned glass and you smiled.

"I miss drinking," you said longingly. He grinned and, leaving the whiskey where it was so as not to tempt you, sat on the couch.

"What're you doin' here so late? Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, tearing your eyes away from the glass and sitting down near him on the sofa. "Baby's good. I just was thinking about you and I wanted to see you."

He perked up at that, he couldn't help himself. "Oh, yeah?"

You grinned and bit your lip shyly before looking away. "I miss you, I guess."

A smile spread wide across his face. "Aw, how sweet."

You swatted an arm out to smack him on the shoulder and he laughed, his heart finally feeling like it was mending a bit.

"Jerk," you muttered, and he laughed again.

"I missed you, too," he finally admitted, his cheeks rosy from the fire and the whiskey as he gazed at you, the reflection from the flames making your skin glow. Maybe it was that pregnancy glow that everyone used to talk about. Or maybe you always glowed and he just never allowed himself to notice until it was too late.

He watched your throat work, swallowing dryly while your fingers fidgeted in your lap and he realized you were nervous.

"What if I told you I missed you as more than just friends?" you whispered, your eyes pinned to the floor, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze.

His breath caught in his throat. Surely, he must have misheard you. But then you finally turned to look at him, tears welling in your eyes, and his heart lurched in his chest.

"What if I told you I'm in love with you?" he bravely whispered back.

Your eyebrows pinched together and your face crumpled before you reached forward, curling your arms around his neck and pulling him close, your lips pressing together earnestly before opening your mouth and letting his tongue lick behind your teeth.

He wasn't sure how you both made it upstairs and into his bed. He couldn't remember peeling your clothes off, one by one, revealing more and more of your changing body to him for the first time. But he did remember seeing your bare, swollen belly underneath him while his hand slowly slid across your skin in wonder. And then he felt it. A little flutter. A little jolt. And he looked up at you in surprise.

"She's kicking," you explained, and his eyes fell back to your stomach.

"She?"

You nodded, placing your hand over his lovingly. "I think it's a girl."

He smiled as tears began to cloud his vision, then bent forward to press a kiss against your stomach, letting his lips linger so hopefully his unborn daughter could feel him there and feel the love he had for her.

You had to pull him away by his shoulders, the both of you laughing softly, unable to believe how much things had changed in just a year.

Because not only were you a couple months away from finally being a mother, but you also realized you were very, very wrong all those months ago.

The man for you was, in fact, right there all along.

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What a lovely bedtime story 🫠

Fuckboy!Joel is not someone I knew I needed in my life but here we are 😍

Self Esteem

Pairing: fuckboy!joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel blows you off for your date. You end up blowing him when he shows up looking to score. Inspired by the song Self Esteem by The Offspring. 

Warnings: kinda mean/fuckboy joel, mild dub con, smut, PWP, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, joel comes on your tits, dirty talk, one (1) slap, choose your own joel era, readers on some dumb bitch juice for this man (i would be too), hit and run, smash and dash,

Notes: PLEASE send any feedback, this is the first thing i’ve ever written and posted, i’m tryn’ to practice and gain confidence bc my dream fic doesn’t exist so i gotta write it, it’s scary to post, y’all are so brave wtf 

WC: 2.9K

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57513220 

It’s a moderately painful type of suffering. Like purgatory. You’d made plans to go out tonight with Joel. It’s useless to expect him to show up, but you got ready and anxiously paced around your living room anyway. Checking your phone, at thirty minutes past the time he had said he’d pick you up. You sent him a text. His read receipts were on; he saw your message. Another thirty minutes pass agonizingly slowly. He hasn’t responded. You can feel a mild headache forming behind your eyes. 

You grab a drink from your fridge and collapse on the couch with a sigh. A mixture of anger, regret, and rejection churns in your gut. You shouldn’t have set yourself up for disappointment. 

No, he shouldn’t be such an asshole. You’ve got to stick up for yourself. Tell him off for his bullshit. The manipulation, standing you up, the lies. You know he’s using you. 

Unfortunately, you find the toxic rush addictive. The way he charms and seduces you after disappearing or acting like an idiot. You enable his behavior every time. 

And it’s sick that you like it. You like knowing it’s your door he knocks on in the middle of the night. He won’t take you on a date, but he still can’t stay away. 

No. Not this time. You’re done letting him waste your time with plans that never materialize. You’re going to practice all the things you should say. Tell him to fuck off. 

You grab another drink and return to the couch. The rejection is sinking in, and you’re feeling pretty low. You silence notifications from him in an attempt to take control of your thoughts. To stop waiting for it to light up with his name. You aren’t going to keep waiting for him. 

You shower and change into a big T-shirt and underwear. Returning to the couch, you turn on some trash TV to shut your brain off. It helps. Keeps you distracted. When it hits 2 AM, you crawl off the couch and turn out the lights. You hope you’re tired enough to sleep without Joel haunting your thoughts. 

You’re getting a glass of water to take to bed when you hear the knock at your door. Your stomach swoops and your body tenses with excitement. 

You’re fucked. 

You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face. 

He’s like a stray cat. Or, more like a tomcat. You know he’s gonna sweet talk his way in. You should ignore him. You should leave him outside on your doorstep, horny and alone. Let him feel rejected this time. 

You crack open the door and face Joel. He glows in the moonlight, stupid eyes sparkling when he looks at you. He leans an arm on the door frame and purrs at you. 

“Baby.”  

You roll your eyes. His breath smells like whiskey. 

“What the fuck, Joel? Where were you?”

He frowns. Big brown eyes try to weaken your defenses. 

“Work thing.” 

“Til 2 AM?” 

“One of the guys on the crew. Was his birthday, so we had to take him out.” 

You don’t believe him. You feel the urge to slap him across his scruffy cheek. You feel the urge to pull him in and kiss him. 

No. You can’t listen to that voice. The voice that still gets butterflies over him showing up at the door. He’s only here because all the bars closed, and now he’s looking to score. 

He preys on your moment of weakness. You’re in a debate with your inner demons, and he barges his way into your space. He moves like a blur. You blink and his rough hand is tracing the line of your jaw. 

He’s caging you in against the back of your door. He leans in closer. Hot breath fanning over your face. Your breath is still caught in your throat. You have half a mind to shove him off of you and begin your lecture, but he gives you no chance. 

He presses urgent kisses and bites along your jawline and down the column of your throat. A vampire at your door. You didn’t invite him in, but he’s got his teeth sinking into your flesh anyway. 

He smells like sweat, sawdust, and some over-scented men’s deodorant. Smells like a man, your lizard brain thinks. 

Trapped between him and the door, the closeness is intoxicating. His body is large and powerful and radiates a frenetic energy. Like he’s buzzing with need for you. You can’t help it; you like feeling wanted like this. Desired. The way he crashes into you like a feral beast—

“Wait.” Some sense flashes into your conscience. 

“Hmm?” he growls in your ear. His face is still buried against your neck while his hands grope at your body. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. His hands move to knead at your breasts through your soft, faded shirt. You fight to ignore the pleasure. 

“Joel.”

“Hmm.”

“You can’t just show up in the middle of the night after bailing on me and expect to get laid.” 

His hands slide under your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes you dizzy. He pinches and pulls at your nipples, and you fight back a moan, trying to refocus. 

“Joel!” you snap at him. 

“C’mon, I’m sorry, baby,” he coos into your skin. 

He rocks his hips against you, and the sensation of his hard bulge in his jeans against your soft skin sends a jolt of need through your nervous system. The words you practiced earlier slip further and further from your mind. 

“You can’t keep treating me like this.” You lob at him. The rest of your speech is hazy. You're grasping at sentence fragments, trying to remember the points you wanted to make. 

“Not gonna keep working.”

“Quit,” he replies sharply. 

“What?” 

One of his large hands slides up, still under your shirt, bunching it up, and wraps around your throat. He bites at your chin. Sharp teeth. He kisses your cheek. Soft lips. He nips your earlobe. You gasp. He sucks it into his hot mouth. Your eyes slam shut. 

You feel like you’re at his mercy, and the cavewoman inside of you just wants him to drag you to bed. 

“Quit arguing,” he grumbles. His deep voice in your ear sends a rush of arousal down your spine. 

“It’s not fair,” you protest. 

He shifts. His hands travel downward to squeeze at the plush skin of your ass. He tugs you forward and shoves his knee between your legs. You lose any train of thought. Cruel man. You don’t care anymore. You’ll let him keep tearing pieces out of your heart. As long as you can keep using each other's bodies. 

The pressure and friction of his thigh against your tingling pussy is the ultimate betrayal. You can’t stop the whiny gasps that come out of your mouth at the contact. 

He lets out a satisfied chuckle at that. Cocky bastard. 

“Not fair,” he repeats after you. “Hmm. Tell that to your wet cunt dripping on my leg, baby.” 

Your core flutters at his words. You feel your face flush, but it’s hard to argue with him. 

“I think you want me,” he continues. 

You try to glare at him. Your hips don’t care, though, as they roll against him. 

“S’alright, baby.”

You wish it were. 

“I only want you.” 

You desperately want to believe him. You shove that thought out of your mind. 

He pulls your shirt off and rakes his eyes down your body. He’s menacing. His broad shoulders and tense muscles loom over you. He’s fully clothed while you’re bare except for your wet panties clinging to your folds. 

Your chest heaves as you watch him. He has a carnivorous gaze. You’re prey with your soft body exposed; he’s a hungry predator waiting to make a lethal move. 

But he doesn’t strike. 

He moves painfully slowly. Tracing a finger down over your lips, down your chest, and belly, to the hem of your underwear. He slips the tip of his finger underneath and skates it across your skin from left to right. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, tense and twitching at the sensations. It’s too delicate. His expression looks like he wants to eat you whole, but his movement is restrained. 

“Know you do.” his voice washes over you, and a slight hum echoes in your throat. 

“You want me.” he husks. 

He pushes you back off his thigh. His hand dives further into your panties, and he drags his fingers through the pool of your arousal and spreads it through your folds. A smile breaks out on his face. 

“Yes,” you exhale as your body shudders. 

A look flashes across his features, and his eyes darken with lust. You peer down to watch his hand disappear in your underwear. 

“Say it.” He demands. 

“What?” Your eyes flick up to his. 

“Say it.” He repeats firmly. 

You writhe a little as he continues to toy with you. He’s wicked. Tracing circles around your clit, but not long enough to build a satisfying rhythm before he dips down and fills you with two fingers. He moves them lazily for his own enjoyment. 

You groan in frustration. It’s a tempting sound to his ears, but he doesn’t look amused. He’s waiting to hear it. 

“I want you?” you guess what he’s waiting for you to say. 

There's no use lying about it if that’s what he wants to hear. You want him. Even if you’ve been ruminating over his shitty behavior all night. 

“You askin’ or tellin’?” 

“Want you,” you repeat as a statement. 

He pulls his hand away completely. Your body jerks, chasing his touch. 

“Please,” you try. 

“Again.” he’s gruff. Ferocious as he demands you confess your desire. 

You sigh. Maybe for giving up so quickly or maybe because you always knew you would. 

“I want you.” 

He doesn’t relax. Or move. 

“Again.” He repeats like he’s a malfunctioning robot. 

“I want you, Joel.” 

“Again.”

“Please, Joel, I want you.” 

The hint of a smirk appears on his face. 

He taps your chin, encouraging you to part your lips. He slides his wet fingers in your mouth, along your tongue, and then removes them. He holds your open mouth, fingers around your jaw, and looks as if he’s assessing the quality of your tongue. 

“Prove it.” He commands. 

His tone does something to your brain.

Tomorrow, you might be confused at how he blew you off, but you ended up on your knees blowing him. But right now, you’re chasing a desperate need.

He steps back to give you space. You drop to your knees as he undoes his belt. Your eager hands work his jeans and boxers down far enough to expose his leaking cock. 

If you looked, you might’ve caught his condescending smirk, now fully exposed. 

You don’t look. You don’t wait for further instructions. You lap at his tip and tease with your tongue. You start working him into your mouth. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue causes you to moan. The vibrations cause him to moan right back. 

His arm shoots out to the door behind you for support. His head hangs, watching you move. 

“Fuck,” he groans at the sight of your lips wrapped around him. His clipped grunts and the way his core flexes encourage you. Your soft hand works in tandem with your mouth, and you’re drooling openly. You coat him in saliva. Messy. Your lips are swollen. 

When he breaches your throat, you slow down to focus on your breathing and swallowing. Little gags contract around the head of his cock as you focus on relaxing. 

“Fuck. Yeah, baby, show me you want it,” he rambles above you. 

You keep going and take him deep until your jaw aches and your pussy throbs. Hearing him react and spew filth at you stokes the fire in your core. 

“Knew your cock hungry mouth was waiting for me,” he slurs. 

A flash of embarrassment courses through you at that statement. 

You did wait for him. You should’ve said no. But it’s so hard when he shows up ready to go. You may be dumb for tolerating his actions, but you’re not going to turn down a man that looks like him and fucks like he does.  

“Eyes up,” he orders. 

You whine around him, looking up through your lashes. Obedient. With your eyes locked on each other, something passes briefly between you. Easy to miss, hard to describe. Like you could look at each other like that forever. Then it’s gone. 

He slides out of your mouth. Ogling the pornographic way spit trails between his tip and your tongue. The way your lashes are wet from trying to blink away the tears of exertion. 

“I did wait, Joel. Waited for you all night,” your voice comes out a little hoarse. You can’t be bothered if it sounds desperate. 

“‘Course you did,” he smiles and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Get up.” 

You don’t argue. He helps to pull you up, spins you around, and walks you the few steps over to your couch. He bends you over the armrest. You’re burning with need. 

He takes his time pulling your panties off. The way he has you presented for him makes you impatient. 

“Joel,” you whine his name in protest. 

“Quit.” He slaps your ass to make his point. 

You huff, but when both of his large palms spread your cheeks wider for his own enjoyment, another needy whine slips out of your throat. 

He chuckles darkly at you. 

“I’ll give you what you need,” he assures you before he sinks into your desperately empty hole. 

You groan in unison as he fills you. 

“So deep,” you murmur. He fits like he was made for you. Fills you up, so you can’t think of anything else. Can’t think of what you wanted to say or how you felt watching the time pass while you waited for him to show up earlier. 

“Always,” he agrees. 

He picks up a bruising pace. On edge for so long, you might go blind with the force of your building climax. 

He grasps your hair at the base of your skull and pulls, further arching your back and ripping another moan from deep in your chest. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind feels blank. The sounds of his hips slapping into you and your combined panting, grunting, and babbling turn to white noise. The consistent drive of his cock against the perfect spot inside of you has you hurtling to the edge. 

“Yeah, baby, I know what you want,” he croons. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and his other hand wraps around you to squeeze at them tightly. He remains steady and brutal with his movements. He does know what you want. And he keeps giving it to you. 

“Please, yes, don’t stop,” you beg. 

You wriggle one hand down to touch yourself. The pressure from your fingers around your clit brings you over the edge. You clench around him and gasp as you come.

“Yeah, that’s it. You come on this cock,” he rasps behind you as he works you through it. 

You feel the release melt your muscles, causing you to slump forward. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, and you know he’s trying to hold on as he pulls out and pants heavily. 

“Turn around for me,” he demands, stepping back. “On your knees.” 

You obey and turn to kneel in front of him. He looks wrecked, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth hanging open. His fist wrapped around his cock, still glistening from your release. 

It’s a debauched scene. He’s still fully dressed, only as exposed as necessary. He charges towards his climax with frantic force. You pose for him eagerly despite your boneless, damp form. 

He looks so primal it makes you lightheaded. You bite your lip to stop yourself from letting a giggle out. Your face shines with a sated glow.

You tilt your head up and squeeze your tits together for him. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he rasps out like it’s the only word he knows at this point. Your glossy, swollen lips pout up at him. Like, you need him to finish for you. That sends him. He comes across your chest as you release your hands, dropping your breasts with a little bounce.. 

He stares at you as his breathing slows. His warm spend is rapidly cooling against your skin. You still have a glowy, dreamy look on your face. Content.

“You look so good like that,” he praises you. A flush creeps up your chest and neck. 

You stand up and grab your forgotten water from the coffee table. He tucks himself back into his jeans and fastens his belt. 

“You gonna buy me breakfast to make up for bailing?” you float the idea with a joking tone, but there’s hope behind it. 

“Sorry, baby, got a job early in the morning.” 

“Right,” you snarl at him as he leans in to kiss you. 

“How about dinner after?” he suggests and fishes for his keys in his pocket. 

“Okay, yeah, what time?” You ask. 

“Not sure when I’ll be done.” He’s not looking at you. “I’ll text you.” 

He turns, slips out the door, and then he’s gone. 

You’re still standing there, naked and dumbfounded, with his drying come across your tits as he drives away. 

You groan and curse at yourself. He’s not going to text you tomorrow. 

You should stick up for yourself. But he did say he wants only you. And the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right?