Authors Who Write Fanfics With Angst, PLEASE, Indicate This Well In The Tags Or Notices, I Love Fanfics

authors who write fanfics with angst, PLEASE, indicate this well in the tags or notices, I love fanfics with angst but the tumblr filter is not so good so I can't find them (by the way, leave your recommendations below, pls)

Miguel por favor but he’s been hunting down reader for MONTHS bc he made his own lil dimension traveling watch and is fucking around- he finds the chase incredibly annoying but also kinda 😏😏😏

miguel o'hara who's been obsessed with you from the very start, dark eyes lingering for merely a second too long. miguel o'hara who loves the thrill of a chase, he's more than aware of the risks that come with jumping dimension. miguel o'hara who can't help but think of you 24/7, he didn't know what it was that got him so hooked. maybe it was your smile, how pretty those lips would look wrapped around his cock, or maybe it was how soothing your voice was when you apologised for bumping into him, what would you sound like moaning out his name whilst underneath him?

miguel o'hara who uses one of his inventions to assist his tracking, sneaking around in order to find out your main locations. it really wasn't that hard, especially with the small chip that he'd managed to attach onto your suit. miguel o'hara who knows that you're aware of his interest in you. oh but you were so cruel to him. you played into this game of cat and mouse, scratching your nails lightly down his chest as you teased him with flirtatious promises.

miguel o'hara who caresses the flesh of your ankle before yanking you towards him, theres no way he'll let you run away from him again. not after he's finally won. miguel o'hara who will worship your body like a god, mumbling praises into open mouthed kisses and nipping down to cover you with deep hickies. miguel o'hara who will rub his cum into tender flesh, he's possessive so of course he wants everyone to know who claimed you. "all mine, baby"

mentions. @loversreligion @truetogaia @ronwestbreeze @moxtailz @fleursbending @stargirlrchive @ateezinmymind

★⌗ vesp's thoughts . . . this is all i could write bc i'm like half asleep but let me know if u want this as a full fic, enjoy!!

© 2023 dilfverz. ─ please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

Nothing Stays the Same Forever: Chapter 4

fContent Warning: fat/body shaming.  Joel and Tommy aren’t having any of it, but proceed with some caution it is pretty mean. Also, Joel might be a wee bit ooc but I can’t help it.  I’m weak thinking about that gruff man being soft and sweet.

previous

It had been about two weeks since he had last seen her.  According to Ellie she had been by the house a few times to visit.  He wanted to tell the girl not to wear out her welcome, but it sounded like Y/N was happy to sit and listen to whatever the teenager had to say.  And Joel knew she had a lot to say.  So he figured that if it got to be too much Y/N would nudge her along.  It did make him happy to see Ellie had a woman she trusted, though he kept that thought to himself.  Not that she didn’t have a good relationship with Maria, but it was different.  

He might have gone longer, until the next “family” dinner, but that morning he realized there was a large tear in his most worn jacket.  The lining flapped open exposing the fibrous filling, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember when or how it happened.  He asked Ellie and the teen had just shrugged and said something sarcastic before going off with a group of kids.  So after helping out with some of the livestock he cleaned up and headed over to the building Tommy told him Y/N worked out of.  

He heard the sewing machine going when he stepped through the doorway, and she was hunched over, all her focus on the stitches.  An old tape deck played what he thought was an old Patsy Cline ballad from a corner.  There were neat stacks of clothing on shelves and boxes labeled ‘scraps’.  He didn’t want to startle her so he waited patiently until the machine stopped and she pulled her project away, neatly snipping a thread.  She held it up and he saw it was a sweet little quilt, the squares sewn into a heart pattern.  He tapped his knuckles on the door frame to get her attention and she turned sharply, her expression wide eyed.  When she realized it was only him she relaxed a fraction.  

“Oh, hello Joel.  I was a little worried you were Maria or Tommy.  This is a surprise for them.”  She gently set the material aside.  “Is there something I can help you with?”  He nodded and walked over to hand her his jacket.

“I saw this big rip this morning.”  She took the garment from him to examine, a little furrow between her brows.  

“Huh, it almost  looks like the seam was cut.  Maybe the thread came loose and you snagged it on something.”  She looked up with a soft smile.  “It’s a quick and simple fix.”  

“I can wait.”  He said.  Y/N blinked a few times and her hands fumbled a bit.  

“That’s fine,” she finally replied.  “There’s um, an extra chair right there.”  She got up to look through her supply of thread to see if she could match the original color.  “This isn’t an exact match, but it should blend in and it won’t be noticeable.”  She heard the chair scrape across the floor.

“That’s fine.  As long as it’s fixed.”  She was a bit surprised when she turned back to see he had moved the chair to sit more or less directly across from her at her work table.  Refusing to let him see that she was even a little bit rattled she quickly regained her composure and sat back down.  He carefully pulled the little quilt closer to him so he could look at the pattern.  Watching his dark eyes take in the details of something she had worked so hard on was nerve wracking.  He traced his calloused fingertips over the heart that made up the center of the blanket.  

“It’s for the baby.”  She told him in a quiet voice.  “I have a little teddy bear at home too.  Tommy came back from patrol one morning with his flannel all torn up after he stumbled into a pricker bush.  I salvaged enough to use so the baby has something made at least partly from something that belonged to their daddy.”  

“Very thoughtful of you.”  He told her.  “This looks nice.”  He tapped the unfinished quilt.  She ducked her head, but he saw the pleased grin on her face.  

“It’s not much, but sometimes I have a lot of down time.  I never made many blankets or quilts before…well, just before.  But I hate to see anything go to waste so I try to recycle any ruined clothing and stuff and turn it back into something useful.”

“Gets cold.”  Joel wanted to smack himself for his stilted small talk but she didn’t seem to mind.  

“It’s nice to give people something new, even if it’s made up of old parts.  There isn’t much that exists anymore that didn’t belong to a whole lot of other people first.”  He followed her nimble fingers with his eyes, watching her quickly and carefully stitch the lining back together.  Every once in a while she would pause and coax the fiber fill back in.  All too soon, she was finished, and if Joel hadn’t seen the damage himself it would have been impossible to tell that it had ripped at all in the first place.  

“You do good work.”  He said after inspecting it.  

“It ripped along a seam, really no trouble.”  She looked down and away again and he frowned.  

“Don’t sell yourself short.  I don’t see anyone else in here doing the work.”  She shook her head.  

“There’s lots of people in Jackson doing a lot more than I can.”  She wrung her hands together.  “Keeping us all safe, hunting for food…I’m just here with my needle and thread.”  

“I hunt.  I patrol.  I definitely can’t pick up a needle and thread and do this,”  he held up his jacket.  “Or take scraps of fabric and turn it into that.”  He gestured at the baby quilt.  “Jackson doesn’t only need hunters and guards.  It needs people like you that keep us all clothed.  That are thoughtful enough to make a blanket and teddy bear for a friend’s baby.  Or a quilt to keep someone warm at night.”  

“That’s kind of you to say, thank you.”  She replied after a few moments.  

“Thank you for the repair job.”  He said, putting the jacket on.  “Seems it’s about quittin’ time, buy you a drink?”  The invitation surprised him as much as it did Y/N.  

“Oh, that’s not necessary…” She began.

“Maybe not.  Still offerin’.”  He could see the struggle in her face, and he wondered why he wanted her to accept so badly.  

“Well, okay.  Thanks, that sounds nice.”  She finally answered.  “Just um, let me tidy up everything real quick.”  She hoped that setting her work space back to a clean slate would calm her frazzled nerves but she was no calmer when she finished putting things away.  She carefully folded the tiny quilt and tucked it into a box with spools of thread.  Taking a moment to press a hand to her chest to soothe her thumping heart, she steeled herself and turned to leave with Joel.  

…

She hadn’t stepped foot into The Tipsy Bison before then.  Alcohol tended to erode away people’s filters, and in Y/N’s experience that led to her needing to dodge insults and cruel critiques.  But Joel’s presence gave her a slight feeling of security.  He wasn’t the type of person people went after, he was the type of person that cleared a pathway through a crowd with an air of intimidation.  He was however, still a southern gentleman at his core and pulled out a bar stool for her.  She awkwardly climbed and slid onto the seat.  Joel sat next to her, his arm nearly touching hers.  It made the side of her body closest to him tingle just from his proximity.  She was happy to see Tommy behind the bar.  Seeing another familiar face was comforting in a place where she was more or less completely out of her element.  

“What can I get you two?”  He asked them with an open smile.  

“Usual.”  Joel grunted.  Y/N hesitated.

“I’m not much of a drinker…”  

“How about a glass of mead?”  Tommy suggested, pouring whiskey into a glass for his brother.  “They use honey from our own hives to make it.”  

“Sounds good, I’ll give it a try.”  

“Didn’t know people still made mead,” Joel said.  “Guess when the world ends you figure out how to keep getting drunk.”  He took a sip from his glass, savoring the smokey flavor of the whiskey.  

“Guess so.”  Y/N replied.  He sensed her tense up beside him when a few men wandered up to the bar.  Tommy set a glass of golden liquid in front of her and turned his attention to the new arrivals.  She was silent, her left hand clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, but she took a sip.  “Pretty good.” She muttered.  Joel turned his head when a table across the room erupted into raucous laughter leaving his bad ear facing her.  So he didn’t hear what was said that had Tommy furious and yelling; and Y/N looking like she had been slapped.  

“The fuck is wrong with you?”  Tommy demanded, pulling the drink he was about to serve back from a man with a smug grin on his face.  

“I’m sorry, I just haven’t seen a land whale since the world ended.  Figured with it being the fucking apocalypse they would have all gone extinct with nothing to eat.”  His buddy beside him laughed.

“Didn’t know Jackson let bloaters move in.”  Joel’s vision went red and hot with anger and he suddenly found himself with his hand wrapped around the first man’s throat.  

“Excuse me?”  He hissed through gritted teeth.  Tommy started to make his way around the bar.  “The fuck did you say?”  The man swallowed nervously but refused to back down even in his precarious position.  

“Hey man, I get it.  Chubby chasing was fun back in the day, but she’ll eat you out of house and home before the novelty wears off.”  Joel’s fingers constricted and the man’s face started turning red.  

“Joel, Joel!”  Tommy gripped his forearm and tugged.  “Let ‘im go.  He’s not worth it.” 

“Imagine getting so worked up over the little piggy that went to market.”  The buddy laughed, the sound sharp and cruel.  Joel threw the first man aside.  He hit an empty table hard, landing on the bar floor.  He pushed past Tommy and caught the other man by the shirt and watched his expression turn downright afraid with a decent amount of satisfaction.  

“If either of you ever dares to even breathe in her vicinity I will break all the bones in your hands.  If she offends you so much, don’t fucking look at her.”  He shoved the man away and shook his head, looking around to see where Y/N had gone.  

“Guess the fat bitch has a guard dog.”  The first man muttered as he picked himself up.  

“Joel…”   Tommy started, reaching out to try and hold his brother back.  But the older man was far quicker and the sound of snapping bone reached his ears before he could pull Joel away.  The man let out a shrill scream and fell back clutching his arm.  

“You broke my fucking wrist!”  He shrieked, and Tommy saw his hand hanging at an unnatural angle.

“You’re lucky he didn’t break more than that,” Tommy sighed and signaled for some of the other residents to come pick the man up.  “Take him to get patched up.”  He told them.  He knew the headache wasn’t over, but he couldn’t honestly fault his brother for his reaction.  Joel’s chest was heaving, the fury beginning to leave him.  He turned a few times, looking for Y/N.  “She left, Joel.”  His brother shoved past him, the door slamming closed behind him.  He let out another sigh and got to doing his best at damage control.  

She was nowhere to be seen in the town but he figured she would most likely head to her home, her safe place.  His pulse rushed in his ears, the adrenaline of anger still pulsing through his veins.  It shouldn’t have shocked him, to see that people still had the capability to be so vicious to a person that had never harmed them or anyone else.  His only worry right then was that he had frightened her, but in the moment he couldn’t help the violent rage that had bloomed in his chest.  Y/N was one of the kindest people he had ever met, even before cordyceps had plummeted the world into chaos and catastrophe.  

The further he walked with no sign of her the more frantic he found himself getting.  He broke into a quick jog, not stopping until he was on her porch and banging on her door.  He continued until it was wrenched open and his heart twisted to see her tear stained face. 

“What is it, Joel?  I’ve had enough of this night.” 

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said, out of breath.  “But I guess that’s pretty foolish, you clearly aren’t.”  

“I’m fine.”  Her voice was tight, she was trying not to start crying again.  “I’m used to it.  Everyone always has something to say about my body, how I look.  The end of the fucking world didn’t change that.”  She turned and stomped further into her house, leaving Joel to follow.  

“Those things they said, they’re fucking idiots.”  

“You think saying that changes anything?”  She cried.  “I’m the fucking idiot, Joel! I

always think it’s gonna be different, that I’ll find some place that just lets me exist in goddamn peace but I’ve finally learned I’m never going to.  But at least here I won’t be turned into a fungus zombie or be forced to-”  She broke off and looked up at him, shocked at what she was about to say out loud.  He took a step towards her.  

“Forced to what?”  He said quietly, his soft tone dangerous.  She shook her head violently and her face crumpled, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.  “Shh, it’s okay, darlin’ you don’t need to talk about it.”  He stepped closer, and laid his hand on her shoulder.  “Come on, now, you don’t need to cry.”  Tears had always been his weakness.  Moving slowly so he didn’t upset her more, he gently pulled her closer, holding Y/N’s trembling form.  She gripped at his shirt like it was a life line.  “Let it out, it’s gonna be alright.”  He tried to soothe her as she cried herself out.  When she quieted back down he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping her face back.  The pure misery in her eyes was like a gut punch.  “You didn’t deserve that tonight, and you didn’t deserve all that shit in the past either.”  Her eyes closed and another tear slipped down her cheek.  

“I’m so tired.”  She whispered.  Joel wiped the tear away with his thumb. 

“You’re so beautiful.”  He murmured, taking them both by surprise.  Y/N’s eyes opened again in shock.  “I wish you could see it.”  

“Don’t.”  He could feel her trying to pull away from him.  

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N.”  He cupped her cheek.  The way she looked at him with her big, sad eyes had his stomach twisting in knots.  “Prettiest lady in this whole damn place.”  She closed her fingers around his wrist, her fingers sliding across his pulse point made his knees feel weak.  

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”  

“I’m not a particularly nice man.”  

“No, you’re not.”  She dropped her arms.  “But you aren’t mean.” Joel chuckled lightly with a sort of grim smile. 

“I can be, but not to folks that don’t deserve it.”  When her bottom lip trembled again he soothed his thumb over it.  “And you don’t deserve mean from anybody.”  The gentle kiss he pressed to her forehead made her heart ache.  “You go on and mop yourself up and get some sleep, Y/N.  If you need anything you know where I am.”  She nodded, looking mildly dazed.  He turned to leave.  

“Joel?  I heard some commotion before I got too far away.”  He made a sound of affirmation.  “Did you fight that man?”  He paused in the doorway.  

“Wasn’t nothing he didn’t deserve.”  He said finally.  “Goodnight, Y/N.”

next

taglist: @boofy1998 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

poor baby (18+)

joel miller x fem reader (no use of y/n)

summary: everyone knew joel's wife was cheating on him, and you were going to help him feel like a man again if it was the last thing you did. (aka, your best friend's dad/neighbor can have whatever he wants from you)

word count: 2685

tags: explicit sexual content (18+), no outbreak, age gap (college graduate/late 40s), dirty talk, free use kink, a bit of misogyny for the sake of sexiness (sorry!), masturbation, no penetration but maybe a part 2? ( 👀), degrading language, cum play, cheating (sorry to Mrs. Miller)

[edit: part 2 here]

Everyone knew that Joel’s wife was cheating on him. It’s not as though the two had seemed like a real couple in over a decade and a half, but it was still sad to think about. Even Sarah didn’t have the strength to make a fuss about it, scared to rock the boat of her parents’ marriage. If you asked her, what was the point of divorce after twenty years of marriage?

The situation was not lost on Joel, and it was hard to watch. He wasn’t the man you remembered. The old Joel knew he was the hottest dad in the neighborhood. He attended PTA meetings and school fundraisers with his perfectly fitted t-shirts, showing off his tanned, toned arms and flexing subtlety when he knew the moms were watching. He walked around with a certain pride, knowing that he was the perfect mix of devoted father and caring husband.

You and Sarah were back in your hometown for the summer after graduation, wasting away a few months while you both tried to decide between grad school and finding a starter job. You hadn’t seen Joel in a few years, and the transformation was shocking.

Sarah explained everything to you the first night there, how she knew that her mom was secretly having an affair with a man at her work.

You weren’t proud of it, but Joel had always been your biggest fantasy. You had first met him in your late teens when your family moved to Texas, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since. Of course, your friendship with Sarah was more than just a way to get more facetime with her criminally attractive father, but it certainly helped motivate you.

That’s what made it all so much harder now seeing him walk around like a shell of the man he once was. There was a part of you that knew exactly what he needed, but it was unfortunately that part of you that was raised on your mom’s old copies of Cosmopolitan and watching her Sex and the City boxset when she wasn’t home.

You needed to make him feel like a man again. You wanted to help him give into his own desires. You wanted to fulfil his needs, even if that involved a bit of self-degradation. The thought simultaneously turned you on and also made you want to apologize to your old Women’s Studies professor.

You understand very well the lack of morality in your plan, and you just had to pray that Sarah would never find out. In your mind, though, you were doing this in part to help her, to help her father get his lust for life back.

There had been several preliminary attempts to get his attention. Wearing skimpy little outfits every time you went over to see Sarah, asking to ‘take a dip in the pool’ in your cutest swimsuits, and always finding ways of cornering Joel in one-on-one conversations.

You flirted with him shamelessly. Instead of joking back with you or even seeming flattered, Joel seemed… shy? After every compliment you gave him, he would look down at the ground and mumble something self-deprecating. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. The star of all of your most depraved sexual fantasies was… bashful?

The best he gave you was a comment on how much you had changed since he last saw you. It was spoken quietly, with an inscrutable look on his face as he avoided your needy gaze. But it was the way his eyes fell down your body—wrapped only in a strappy sundress—that gave you the motivation you needed to keep going.

You knew you had to act soon, but the right moment was failing to present itself.

That was, until your parents held one of their painfully-cheesy-but-always-fun neighborhood game nights, and the Millers walked in. You wouldn’t have expected to see them participating in things like this as a couple anymore, but they had always been regulars in the past. Keeping up appearances, you figured.

You had the homefield advantage finally, and you didn’t have to worry about Sarah, as she was out on a date with an old crush from high school.

After Joel and his wife were greeted by your parents at the front door, they stepped inside. Your parents were busy asking his wife something borrowing their fishing poles next weekend. He looked up and saw you standing at the top of the staircase with a smile, and his eyes immediately adverted, looking to the ground. Then, he gave a small awkward smile as he looked back up for a moment. He was acting like a shy little schoolgirl for you.

Everyone ended up outside on the patio, enjoying the summer night while playing whatever new boardgame someone had brought over. You doubted anyone had noticed when Joel slipped away, entering back into the house. As far as he knew, you were still out of the house after your parents sent you on a quick grocery run to get some more tortilla chips. He didn’t see that you were already back home, in the living room tucked behind one of the couches, flipping through an old issue of Esquire.  

So, you watched him ascend the staircase, looking around like a nervous child about to steal candy from the local convenience store. Your heartrate quickened when you heard the familiar squeak of the door to your room opening and closing.

You scrambled to your feet, trying to decide if you should go meet him up there right away or give it a few minutes. You were so excited about the possibilities of what he may be up to in there that you couldn’t hold yourself back for very long.

Before quietly padding up the stairs, you took a moment to assess yourself in a hallway mirror, applying a bit of lipstick and running your fingers through your hair. Even if he did have some legitimate reason to go in there (which seemed unlikely), you at least wanted to look good for him.

The stairs were wooden and notoriously noisy, which you liked because you could always hear when someone was coming. Over the years, however, you had mastered the art of walking upstairs silently, knowing exactly where to step to avoid the loud noises.

So poor Joel had no warning when you burst through the door and caught him red handed. Well, maybe his hands weren’t red, but the pair of panties he held in them certainly was. The look on his face was priceless; all shock and terror as he tossed the underwear to the side and tried to force his painfully erect cock back in his jeans.

He began spilling out apologizes. “I-I didn’t think you were going to be back so soon,” and “I just couldn’t help myself.”

You had closed the door again, now leaning against it with a small smile as you watched Joel grovel with a flushed face. You were so desperate for him you could have gotten off right there at the sight of it. You couldn’t believe you were getting what you wanted.

“P-please, sweetie, don’t be mad at me for this.”

Your heart broke at the pathetic sorrow in his voice. To see the man you had fantasized about for years, your teenage dream, reduced to this? To acting like some common perv, sniffing your dirty panties in secret?

What he needed became so clear to you in that moment. He needed permission. And you knew that he deserved more than just a quick jerk-off session in your bedroom. He deserved to get exactly what he was dreaming about: being the hot older man fucking his daughter’s best friend.

Maybe it was cliché, but it was fine as long as it worked in your favor.

You pulled up at the bottom of your dress, your hands moving underneath it to grab at the waistband of your panties. As you pulled them down your legs, you were glad you had the foresight to select another one of your sexiest pairs. Joel just watched, mouth agape, as you stepped out of them and walked over to where he was sitting on the bed, hands still covering his crotch in shame.

“Try these,” you whispered with a small smile.

He looked from you to the panties, then back at you. He must have thought he had fallen and smacked his head on something hard, that this was all a desire-ridden hallucination.

“I want you to have them, Mr. Miller.”

There was a war going on inside him. He had been a good man for so long, not only devoting his young adulthood to raising a baby he hadn’t planned on but also marrying the woman he got pregnant, even if they weren’t a perfect match. He had worked hard to be a role model for his daughter, always making the moral choices.

But his wife hadn’t made the moral choice when she first fucked her coworker, and you would be damned if Joel didn’t let himself make the same choice for himself now.

“Please.”

He quickly grabbed the underwear from your hands and held it like he didn’t know what to do with it, even though you had just seen that he knew exactly what to do with it.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, eyes closed in shame. “You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, right?”

You smiled sweetly, falling to your knees. “It’ll be our little secret.”

He stared at you with those big brown eyes as you nestled between his legs.

“What are you doing, sweetie?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes finally meeting yours.

“Whatever you want,” you told him, and you believed it, too.

He let out a labored sigh as he unzipped his jeans again, pulling out his cock, which was still hard and leaking. As he did, he muttered something under his breath about how he was going to hell.

You weren’t worried about his eternal damnation, though. You were just happy to finally get a good look at his cock.  

“I always knew it had to be huge and beautiful,” you murmured as you stared lovingly at it, not totally realizing that you were speaking out loud. Joel chuckled.

“You were thinking about my cock?”

You were so happy to hear the teasing lilt in his voice, something to show you that he was gaining back his confidence already.

You looked up at him with a smile, and suddenly you were the bashful one all over again. “Of course. I used to wake up early just to catch a view of you across the street getting your mail in your boxers.”

He smiled, hand returning to his cock, enveloping it in your panties once more and giving it a slow stroke. “I had no idea you…”

His voice trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?”

His eyes met yours and he grinned. “I had no idea you’d turn into such a fucking slut.”

Your mouth fell open and you had to bite your bottom lop to stop the smile from spreading across your face. He really was going to make your dreams come true.

“I shoulda known you were up to something,” he mumbled as he stared at you, still stroking himself languidly. “Every time I’ve seen you since you got back… your tits out, wearing those little dresses.”

Your heart swelled. He had noticed.

“All those things you said to me… I thought you were just making fun of me.”

Poor baby. This past year must have really done a number on him.

“I just wanted to give you a view you could enjoy,” you whispered, trying to urge him on. “Show what you could have if you just allowed yourself to take it.”

His breath hitched in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Me. You can have me—to use, whenever you want.”

That look in his eyes—carnal desire burning. You could have died right there.

His hand started moving faster.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered as he stifled a groan.

“We have all summer, Joel. Maybe even longer.”

He bit his bottom lip, his breathing getting faster.

Your hands moved to the back of your neck, where the halter top of your dress was tied together. You may have picked something that covered up your chest to avoid suspicion from your parents, but that didn’t mean Joel had to be deprived of a better look. You untied the strings and pulled the top of your dress down, showing off your sheer mesh bra.

Joel looked downright mesmerized.

“I’m right across the street, probably already dripping wet for you anyways. Just come on over and take me however you want. We can go back to yours and you can watch me swim naked in your pool. I can suck your dick on the patio. But what I really want is for you to fuck me in the bed you share with your wife.”

“Shit,” Joel choked out, eyes moving from your tits back to your face.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Let her smell my cunt on the sheets, let her know just good you made some little slut feel.”

He reached out to touch you, and you expected him to go for your breasts. He didn’t, though. His hand grabbed your chin, gripping it tight, causing your mouth to fall open for him again. You were surprised by how rough he was, but not surprised by the fresh pang of arousal it caused inside you.

“Don’t promise shit unless you can deliver, sweetie.”

You smiled as best you could while in his clutch. “I’m willing to deliver on much more than that.”

He let out another strangled noise, and you knew he was getting close.

“Whatever fantasy you have, I’ll fill it.”

He smiled. “Not picky, huh?”

“It all turns me on.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, eyes shut in pleasure. “I’m gonna cum, sweetie, where do you want it?”

You couldn’t believe he still wasn’t getting it.

“Wherever you want.”

He kept your face grasped in his and pulled you closer to his crotch, and you shut your eyes just in time as he began to cover your face in it. The feeling of it on your face, hot and sticky, as he groaned above you turned you on in a way you could have never anticipated. You couldn’t wait to get yourself off.

His breathing finally evened out, and he let go of your face. Slowly, you opened your eyes, pretty sure that none of it was covering your eyelids. The image you were greeted by was too fucking good, and you wished you could take a photo to remember it forever.

Joel, mouth still open as he tried to calm himself down, spent cock still in his hand, wrapped in your panties, staring at the piece of work he had just created.

You could have stayed there staring at each other for longer, but you were both called back to reality by the sound of your mom calling your name from downstairs.

Joel looked terrified, quickly cleaning himself up and putting himself away.

“Dare me to go downstairs like this?”

He scoffed with a disapproving look on his face. “Don’t be insane,” he muttered, looking around for something to clean you up with.

“Fine,” you replied with a giggle. “I’ll just have to take care of it.”

You dragged your thumb along your cheek, collecting it on your finger before popping it in your mouth. Maybe it didn’t taste amazing, but you knew it was just another way to remind Joel of how much you wanted to give yourself to him.

He watched eagerly as you continued, pushing it all in your mouth. You couldn’t imagine doing something like this for any other man you had ever known.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, sweetie.”

You gave him a sweet smile, pulling your fingers out of your mouth with a ‘pop.’

“We have a long summer ahead of us, Mr. Miller.”

(read part 2 here!) (you know, if you want)