Soft And Scared Joel Just Hits So Different

Soft and scared Joel just hits so different 🥲😍

Absolutely loved reading this story!

call it what it is

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA JOEL. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

so i've been thinking…

...about him <3

@beefrobeefcal How ironic I stumble across this!

(sobbing, through tears) i... i wanna watch him jerk off!!!!!

👀😳🫠😍

This was just the thing I needed to read!

Quickie

Prompt #423 “This is so wrong.” / “I know. And I love it.”

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: You and Frankie have to hurry before your mom gets home.

Warnings: explicit smut, creampie, step dad!frankie WC: 555

a/n: Today's prompt fill! It's pure porn lol. Unedited, as usual.

Frankie Morales Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi | Prompt Fills

“This is so wrong,” Frankie whispers against your mouth. 

“I know. And I love it.” 

You press your mouth back into Frankie’s, your hands finding his belt in between you and unfastening it. You slip your hands into his boxers, fingers closing around his already hard cock. 

“Your mom could come back any second,” Frankie mutters, but his hands slip underneath your shirt anyway. You bite down on his lip before pulling back just slightly. 

“Better be quick, then.” 

He grabs your hips and turns you around, bending you over the kitchen table. He yanks your pants down, two of his thick fingers slipping between your soaked folds. 

“Fuck, papi, please,” you whine.

“Please what, hermosa?” 

“More. Please.” 

Frankie presses two fingers into you, stroking your walls and stretching you out to take his cock. You moan and push back into him, practically riding his fingers. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl, I can’t wait any longer,” Frankie groans, removing his fingers from you and lining himself up with your cunt. 

“It’s okay, papi. Please. Need you,” you pant. You drop your forehead to the table and push your ass back toward him, trying to take him inside you. 

Frankie pushes into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his thickness. You don’t want to wait anymore. You reach behind you and grab his open pants, dragging him into you. Your moan is a broken, strangled thing. It hurts but it feels so fucking good. 

“Fuck, baby girl. Impaciente, no?” 

“Just please fuck me, papi.” 

Frankie draws his hips back slowly, letting you feel every ridge and vein in his cock, before slamming back into you so hard your hips slam into the table. He grips your shoulder in one hand and your hip in the other, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. 

You’re trying to hold back from screaming on the off chance your mom comes home, but it’s so hard. Frankie feels so fucking good. You drag his hand off your hip and down between your legs. He takes the hint and starts rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. 

Your knees nearly buckle, but Frankie wraps his other arm around your torso, holding you steady as he pounds into you. 

“‘M gonna come, papi. Please can I come?” 

“Sí, sí. Come on, baby girl, lemme feel you,” Frankie pants. 

He curls his body over yours as you begin to clench hard around his cock. He groans in your ear, whispering praise and encouragement. You come hard, fingers clawing at the table for purchase as you writhe in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Where?”

“Inside,” you cry out, still riding the wave of pleasure. 

Frankie slams his hips against yours one more time and buries himself deep inside you as he comes with a long moan. 

You hear the garage door opening, ruining any chance you had of relishing this moment. You both scramble to get your clothes back in place. Frankie makes it look like he’s making a snack while you open your laptop at the table and start working on a fic. 

“Hey guys!” Your mom plants a kiss on Frankie’s cheek and sets her purse on the counter. 

You can feel your step dad’s cum leaking out of you as you ask your mom about her day.

@creativepromptfills

Seriously though!

Needy Javier Peña?!

SIGN. ME. UP.

This was absolutely beautiful! 😍

Dispose Of Me

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Javier Peña needs you... and you're moving away in two weeks. Warnings: Smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe IRL), oral (f receiving), reader is picked up, Javi can't stop smoking, post S3 Laredo Peña, feelings. Words: 1,800

A/N: @ohheypedrito asked me to write Javier and this is what I came up with. This is my first time writing Javi, so I hope I did him justice. @undercoverpena posted this mood board a couple of weeks ago that matched the exact vibes of this piece, I even went in and added the last line because of it. Thank you to @pascalispretty for beta'ing.

Masterlist

___

His new life haunts him. 

Fix a fence, wire the new security light, drive to town to pick up more feed, crack a well deserved beer open at dinner, fall asleep in the bed that’s too small. 

Wake up and repeat. 

Funny how the simple life feels like it’s killing him. 

He lights a cigarette, the nicotine drowning his inner turmoil; a billow of smoke suspires out of his lungs, floating away into the night sky. He wishes he could follow it far away. 

He needs you. 

___

Three quick raps against the door shocks you out of your mindless channel surfing. Javi. You fight a smile before checking yourself in the mirror, lying to yourself that you didn’t buy all the new silky lingerie for him. 

You lie to yourself a lot. You haven’t fallen for him, you don’t think about him all the time, other men have made you feel this special, you’re not going to miss him once you leave.

A quick shake of your head and a wiggle of your shoulders helps steel yourself before opening the door. Your breath hitches at the beauty… Javier Peña, the handsomest man with the biggest brown eyes and tightest Wrangler jeans you’ve ever seen lunges at you and wraps his arms around your barely covered figure. 

“Usually you call, wha–” a searing kiss interrupts you, his plush mouth sets a hungry fire inside you. 

Your body leaves the ground as Javi lifts you up into his hold, your legs instinctively enveloping his hips, hands taking hold around his thick neck as he walks to your bedroom. His lips don’t leave yours as he effortlessly navigates around your moving boxes. 

“Need you baby,” he pants against your neck. “Need you so much.” 

You’re thrown on the bed, mouth agape, lungs panting for air still recovering from his kiss. Javi swiftly undresses, his orange shirt and blue jeans fly across the room and land on your reading chair.

He flicks the light on, flooding the room with sweet tangerine hues. He stands at the foot of your bed, broad body looming, pouty lips parted underneath his downturned mustache. He’s the picture perfect example of a man in charge, standing immobile with his hands on his hips; the only movement is his wide brown eyes roaming your body. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs in his toned neck. The tension radiating off of his body reaches out and grabs your heart, making it pitter patter even harder against your chest. 

“I need you,” he whispers, his frame casting a shadow over your quivering body as he slowly climbs on the bed.

A kiss is placed against your temple; he inhales the citrus scent of your conditioner and sighs. His mouth moves down your face before parting your lips with his, his sharp nose pressing into your cheek when he deepens the kiss. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes. You melt into the bed under his weight, his tongue swirling around your mouth drinking down your gasps and mews. A soft groan rumbles out of his throat when you suck his tongue into your mouth. 

He’s different tonight. His kisses feel more desperate, the weight of him presses harder, his eyes stare harder, his voice sounds gruffer. 

He bunches the pink silk of your tank top up before covering your breast with his large hand, kneading it in his hold. 

“Javi,” you moan, feeling his hardening cock press against your panties. 

“Do you just sit around your apartment dressed like this every night baby?”

He licks his way down your neck, sucking and nuzzling his mouth against the curve of your collar bone. 

“Most– ahh– nights,” you whimper. “Usually wear it in case you call or knock on my door.”

“Fuck,” he growls. His cock grows more rigid, pressing harder against your now aching core dripping wet and waiting for him. 

His lips perch against the skin stretched across your chest, leaving a gentle kiss right where your heart beats.

“I can feel your heartbeat against my lips, hermosa.”

He cups your breasts between his hands, encompassing his head in between your flesh, his inhalation of your scent sends goosebumps through your skin… as if he’s trying to memorize every part of you before time runs out. He pulls back, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, dark eyes under pleading eyebrows staring into everything you have- body, mind, heart and soul. 

”I need you,” he rasps.

You pet his hair, running your fingers through the soft waves. 

“I know,” you whisper from your heart.

Javi. 

He turns his head, laying a wet kiss against your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. A breath of a bite hits against your sensitive skin, your fingers tug at his hair. A throaty groan encourages you to pull harder. 

He licks a stripe across taking your other nipple in his mouth– another bite, another hair tug, another throaty groan. 

He rubs his hard cock against your core, his precum soaks against your drenched panties. 

“You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you baby?”

An ache rolls through your entire body.  

“Yes Javi.”

“Yes you are, baby. Want to taste you first.” 

He settles between your thighs, jet black hair shining against your skin. 

His tongue dips in your folds, swimming through the lush wetness you’ve spilled for him. 

A lap up, a lap down, his tongue striding all along your sensitive skin. 

You sink in the abyss of his touch.

“Mm close Javi,” you sob. 

He moans a reassuring sound. His head undulating a reassuring nod taps his nose against your clit. Your hands claim his hair, pulling him even closer into you, your hips grinding against his face riding the wave of pleasure. 

You fall off the horizon, diving into the depth of your orgasm. Javier Peña is not only a giver, but also a taker, taking everything your pussy will give him. You swell underneath him, your hands pulling his soft hair, your voice screaming his name. He drinks you down like he’s a shipwrecked man.

You float atop your coral sheets, Javi’s soft kisses to your thigh anchoring you from drifting farther. 

___

“I-I need you Javi,” you muster.

His head pops up from between your legs, beautiful mouth shining with your sweetness. He licks his lips savoring the heady taste of you before he covers your body with his, crushing you, firm muscles pressing into your skin. 

“You need me?” His cock ghosts against your entrance that’s begging for something to clench around.

”Yes Javi.”

”Okay hermosa, okay.”

All at once you’re filled with Javier Peña. His hips meet yours when he plunges himself fully into your heat.

Your lungs squeal as you wrap your legs around his lower back, giving him more access to all of you. He’s deliberate in his pace, slow thrusts adoring you with each push and pull. His lips take purchase of your mouth.  

You immerse one another in the sway of each other’s bodies. 

“Two weeks,” he grunts against your lips. “I don’t think I can live without your pussy, baby.”

Your fingers clutch his taut shoulders; you don’t know if he meant to let that information out.

“I’ll miss you so much,” you confess, getting lost in his divulgence.

“Shhh, don’t talk like that,” his lips mold the words on your skin. His thumb finds your clit and rubs a slow circle around it instantly replacing your sadness with a jolt of pleasure. 

You gasp at the sensation.

“Need to make you feel good,” Javi pulls away, he stares into your eyes, “in your body and heart baby.” 

“Jaaaaaviiii,” your exhale is replaced by his name. 

He drives harder into you, your legs tighten around him, your hands grip his skin harder. 

Your bed rattles against the wall, the metal headboard clangs against the plaster. 

THUMP

“I”

THUMP

“need”

THUMP

“you.”

Your knuckles turn white against his skin as he pounds into your pussy. His eyes don’t leave yours, you’re drowning in the pools of his dark brown eyes as you orgasm, squeezing his cock and pulling him down with you, flooding him with your release.

He bites your name as he pulls out, your legs thudding against the bed as he draws his orgasm out. His focus doesn’t leave your face as thick white ropes fall on your stomach. 

Your body rocks against the soft waves of the bed, lulled to a higher place of being from Javi’s care.

He flops down next to you panting for air with his forearm resting over his forehead. 

You turn and cuddle into his side, resting your head on his broad chest.

“I need you,” Javi whispers so low you swear he’s only saying it to himself. 

Your world shifts, he tells you everything in those three words he keeps repeating. Time is frozen as you both stay silent.

___

You reach for Javi in the darkness and find your bed empty. A deep timbred sigh behind you catches your attention. You roll over blinking your bleary eyes open, gulping at the sight ahead of you. 

He stands naked by the window, a puff of smoke dissipating in the warm summer air breezing in from the open window. The sunrise paints his body in glowing umber. 

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke in here Javi.” He stamps the cigarette out and walks over to the bed. His body gleams from the yellow street light buzzing outside your window. He sits on the edge of your bed and lifts your legs into his lap. 

“You know I don’t like it when you move a thousand miles away and don’t ask me to follow you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me to do anything if I want to do it.”

“But, your dad?”

“He tells me I can leave at any time,” his hand strokes your leg, “I just haven’t had a reason to… until you.”

“Javi, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just pick up and move away. What are you going to do there?”

“I already called the office, there’s a job waiting for me there. I just have to tell them I want it. Baby, I need you.”

___

“Good morning, I’m Javier Peña, the new head agent here. Shall we get started?”

Javi sticks his hand in his suit jacket pocket, discovering a piece of paper.

He smiles when he sees your note: Good luck on your first day! See you at home. Xxx

He reminds himself to buy you a bouquet of flowers before heading home.