Spooder Moom Spooder Moom

Spooder Moom spooder Moom

I'm rereading the series and GODUHHHH ITS SO FREAKING GOOOD THE NEXT CHAPTER IS EVEN BETTER

Guilty pleasures: Chapter 4

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Tommy mentions the reason why Joel refuses to celebrate his birthday. A fight breaks into the bar, and Joel's reaction to seeing you hurt awakens something in both of you.

word count: 6k

warnings: mentions of injury, alcohol. tension my beloveddd😌

A/N: this chapter kicked my ass oh god. it was much better in my head lmao but I hope it's as good as I want it to be.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

gif: @iero

series masterlist | AO3

AUGUST

“Again.”

Your voice is decisive and even a little harsh, but you know that Ellie’s more than capable of handling it. Poor girl’s had a handful thrown at her, and after traveling with Joel for over two years, you had no doubt that the girl was a tough cookie.

“I’m telling you, this thing’s rigged,” Ellie sighs.

You watch closely her hand on the trigger, noticing she’s squeezing harder than she should. Instantly, you reach around her and take the shotgun from her. Unable to look away, Ellie watches you lean over the rock, your hands steady and eyes locked on the practice target in the distance. Within the next second, you shoot it right in the center.

“Son of a bitch!” Ellie scoffs.

You chuckle, returning her look. “See? It’s fine.”

“Well you’re used to handling big guns! What is it with you and big guns, by the way?”

You falter, simply observing her; then, as you shrug, you notice from the corner of your eye a silhouette approaching.

Unmistakable, broad and about to get on your nerves.

But you choose to ignore it for the time being.

“Havin’ fun?”

Ellie gets up from the ground and starts telling Joel how you’ve been teaching her how to use a shotgun, how you shared tattoo wisdom and how cool you are. Joel listens, nods along, stealing the occasional glance at you.

You notice how displeased he looks. You know he hates how close you’ve gotten with Ellie over the past few weeks. Although maybe hate is too strong of a word; he’s still being cautious about you lurking around Ellie for reasons you have not been told.

Reasons you figured all on your own and kept to yourself out of respect.

So you know that your spending time with Ellie isn’t to Joel’s liking, but you’ve grown fond of her.

“I still think that thing’s rigged so I can’t shoot with it,” Ellie points at your shotgun and at you, respectively.

Joel cocks an eyebrow at you, and your breathing becomes inexistent as you exchange yet another hungry gaze.

While you’ve gotten closer with Ellie in the past month, you’ve grown more distant from Joel. The tension between you two boiled at perilous levels, especially after that evening on your porch. That unprompted kiss, birthed from some manic desire that needed to be sated, remained an unspoken secret between you, nothing more but a mistake done in the heat of the moment.

Every time you see Joel though, every time your eyes meet, you are reminded of that kiss and how much of you it consumed.

“Rigged, you say?” Joel asks, extending his hand so that you hand him the shotgun.

Almost like he’s expecting you to follow his lead without much argument.

Weirdly though, you do. You hand him the shotgun, watching nearly breathless as he steadies himself in the right position on the rock, eyeing the practice target.

“You squeeze the trigger like you love it,” Joel tells Ellie.

“Hmm.”

“Gentle, steady, nice and slow.”

“Are you gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?”

Joel makes a face at Ellie, then steals another quick glance at you. Only this time, Ellie takes notice of it too, much to your dismay.

“Could you not look at me when she says that?” you frown.

“I didn’t,” Joel retorts.

“You did,” Ellie adds.

“At least buy me a drink before, damn, Miller.”

Joel goes back to what he was doing prior. He replies with stoic silence, unable to come up with a good reply. So he points the shotgun right at the target practice and fires without hesitation.

He too shoots it right in the middle.

“You dick!” Ellie shouts, and you stifle a chuckle.

“Told you,” you tell her rather smugly. “You just gotta work on your aim. You nearly shot me in the head twice, and that’s just today. I’m starting to think this is personal.”

Joel lowers his head, stifling a chuckle. It’s brief, barely existent, and yet he feels its existence warming up his chest. The moment he wipes it off of his face, though, he feels empty again. As surprising as it may have felt to laugh at something you said, the second it was gone, he missed it.

Shit. He actually enjoyed that?

“Listen,” Joel mutters to you, grabbing hold of your arm as Ellie walks in front of you, “this thing with you and Ellie, I’m not a fan.”

“Quelle surprise.”

“But she seems to like you. For whatever reason.”

You don’t break the touch though; you’re not really sure why. It just feels… nice. His calloused hands wrapped around your arm, barely applying any pressure, just enough to make you pay attention to him, it’s—not bad.

You swallow your pride and bite your tongue though, all in order to reassure him. You know a concerned paternal figure when you see one.

“I told you before, I have no intention of hurting Ellie in any way,” you whisper, now inching close to his face. “I like her.”

That’s when Joel lets go of your arm, but his eyes drop to your lips and just like that, he’s transported back to the night he hastily kissed you. He reminisces of your scent, something odd yet specific, a mixture of salt, lotion and summer. He reminisces of how it felt to press his lips against yours, to have you open your mouth to welcome his, almost too eagerly and desperately, and his knees nearly give out on the spot.

“But if you wanna take over and teach her how to shoot, you should get to,” you tell him, being the first to back away. “You’re her—protector.”

Joel gulps, closely watching your figure. It feels like you are both too close and yet too far, and he knows that letting you in, allowing him to consume his thoughts and emotions, it will only bring more pain in the end.

“What are you guys doing? C’mon!” Ellie shouts.

No glances are exchanged afterwards. You walk silently into the town, and you make sure to stay well behind Joel and Ellie. The occasional smile appears on your face when you see Ellie excitedly telling Joel about her day and the things that she wants to do. The same smile that vanishes mere seconds later, being replaced by melancholy.

You realize you barely remember your own father anymore. He’s a faint figure at the back of your mind, someone you used to know who was gone too soon. And then you smile again, gathering that Joel is enjoying those moments as much as Ellie is.

As you watch them interacting, quickly forgetting you as they mind their own way, you come to appreciate that Joel is far from being cruel as you once thought. He’s still got kindness left in him, still doing things from the goodness of his heart.

Which begs the question: what happened to Joel Miller? What did the outbreak take from him that left such deep marks on him, causing him to hate the world and everyone in it?

Almost everyone.

You theorize whatever you can, but never pose any questions. It’s none of your business. Curiosity strikes you, sure, but there’s nothing else to it. You and Joel are… complicated. Best if you keep your distance from each other, especially after that unwanted moment.

There’s a sudden tug at the hem of your shorts. When you look down, you notice a little girl staring up at you. Her eyes are big and green, hair the color of caramel chocolate, and your heart drops. The resemblance is striking; you can’t get over it. If you were to believe that you could be haunted by your past… this is all the proof you need.

“Our ball fell on your porch,” she says while you stare at her, completely dumbstruck. “Can you give it back to us?”

Slowly, you come to your senses and realize the girl is with a group of friends who all stare expectantly at you. You blink several times to wake yourself up and nod rather flustered.

“Why didn’t you take it yourself?” you kindly ask the girl.

“My mom says it’s polite to ask first.”

You smile as you hand her the ball. “What’s your name?”

“Maya.”

You suck in a deep breath, eyes getting teary within a split second. Mouth ajar, you can only stare at her, your hands frozen on the ball.

But you don’t want to scare her, especially since you’re carrying a shotgun on your back and a knife in your thigh holster, nor do you want a panic attack to overwhelm you at this very moment.

Instead, you hand her the ball and smile widely at her. “It’s a—very beautiful name,” you tell her.

“What’s yours?”

You give her yours and she compliments it as well. The tears are blurring your vision at this point, but you fight them relentlessly. That is, until a woman stands next to Maya, eyeing you, and then her.

“Maya, sweetie, it’s dinner time,” she says.

“Can I play five more minutes?”

“Only five more minutes. But not any more, okay?”

“Okay.”

Maya sulks, and your smile widens. You blink again, making sure you keep your tears under control—as much as you can, at least. Then, an idea strikes you.

“Oh hey, do you like stuffed animals?”

Maya turns towards you, nodding frantically as she stares with those innocent wide eyes that simply make you melt.

“I might have something for you,” you say. “If that’s okay.”

You address her presumed mother this time, and she nods as well. You rush inside your house, opening a forgotten box at the back of your wardrobe. The moment you hold the rabbit plushie in your hands, a wave of sadness washes over you. The years clearly got to it, but that’s mostly because you haven’t had the guts to clean it properly. You let it catch dust and fade away, like the memories locked with it.

“This was my sister’s,” you tell Maya as you hand her the plushie. “She carried it with her everywhere when she was little. A little during teenage years too. Her name was Maya. Like yours. It’s a bit old, but nothing a good wash won’t erase.”

“He’s so cute! Can I name him?”

“You can name him whatever you want. He’s yours now.”

“Thank you, thank you!”

As Maya hugs your legs—at her height, it’s all she can manage—her mother looks at you, a heartfelt expression residing on her face.

“Are you sure?” she asks you.

You nod. “A kid should have it.”

“Thank you,” she smiles and touches your arm.

You watch them walk away, and finally you allow yourself a moment’s rest; you close your eyes, and the tears come pouring down your cheeks without you even trying to make it happen. You let them stain your face, you let the grief make its way from the box you’ve buried it inside your heart.

With one deep inhale, you open your eyes, face to face with Joel again. You’re very much aware of how disheveled you look now, as opposed to half an hour ago, but you couldn’t care less.

“Don’t,” you warn him, though your warning is as soft and raw as you’re feeling right now.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“That was very kind of you,” you hear Tommy’s voice, and later noticing his silhouette in your vicinity as well.

“A kid should have toys.”

“Whose was it?”

Joel’s tone is calm and understanding as opposed to all the other times the two of you have interacted. Perhaps that’s why it tightens your chest further, building towards your anger a little more.

“Just—not today, okay?” you nearly snap at him. “I’m really not in the mood for some typical Miller crap. No offense to you, Tommy, I actually like you.”

Tommy makes a flattered and impressed face. “Hear that?” he tells his brother. “I’m good.”

“I was gonna say somethin’ nice but I see this ain’t the audience for that.”

With that, Joel simply walks away, leaving a dumbfounded Tommy and a hurt you behind like there was nothing to it.

“What’s with him?” you ask Tommy. “He’s a bit snappier than usual.”

You watch as Tommy stares you down, inhaling and exhaling slowly in a well-rehearsed manner before he replies, “He always gets like this before his birthday.”

“His birthday’s coming up?”

“End of September.”

You’re surprised at the information. You wouldn’t expect someone like Joel Miller to care so much about a silly birthday, much less during such dangerous and cruel times. Questions begin to swim inside your mind once more, begging to be answered.

“I don’t suppose it has anything to do with growing older,” you say, to which Tommy shakes his head in denial almost instantly.

“No.”

When you fail to ask the next logical question, Tommy gulps, unsure if he should answer at all. It’s a family matter. After all, it’s a loss for Tommy too, and it weighs heavily on him—albeit not as cruelly as it weighs on Joel.

“September 26th,” he commences, voice grave and low. “The day of the outbreak, on his birthday… his daughter Sarah died. She was shot. Stupidest damn thing.”

Your face drops, as does your heart. Truthfully, you figured it was something along those lines, and yet somehow, when faced with the truth, you still take it much harder than you would’ve anticipated.

“Fuck,” you murmur, taken aback. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s been twenty years, but I wouldn’t bring up her name if I were you. I don’t. Joel never recovered.”

Perfectly understandable, you think.

Your mother used to tell you that there was no pain greater than the one of losing your child. The way she said it, guttural and barely breathed, made you understand how heartbreaking it must be. You prayed you’d never have to find out.

So you can only try to imagine what Joel must feel like at all times. It almost makes up for all the times you two have argued and all the times Joel left abruptly, avoiding all eye contact, as well as physical.

Of course he wouldn’t want to be close with anyone. Getting close meant caring, and caring, love, it meant one thing in the end: pain.

“I guess that explains him for the most part,” you murmur, still processing.

“He means well,” Tommy explains. “At least I hope he does. He’s just… not crazy about others in his business.”

“Understandable. So I guess… he wouldn’t be a fan of, say… having a drink with one of his least favorite people? Y’know, when his birthday comes?”

The way Tommy stares at you, in a concoction of curiosity and giggles, makes your stomach twist and turn. You expect additional questions but you dread them tremendously. Although you suppose your rivalry with Joel wouldn’t be totally lost on his little brother.

“See, I don’t get the two of y’all,” he says, arms crossed at his chest and his interest peaked to the max. “You almost always argue, and now you wanna have a drink with him?”

He looks downright amused, and that, in return, upsets you. “I’m just trying to do something nice,” you reply. “Call it pity, being kind-hearted, whatever. But you can’t share a story like that and expect people to not react. I’m not heartless.”

“Sure thing. Except—most people would leave it at ‘I’m sorry’.”

You huff. “What do you want me to say, Tommy?”

“If you’ve got anythin’ to say, don’t say it to me.”

What would you even say to Joel? That you still get flashbacks to that unprompted kiss? That it still consumes you? That you craved more of that heat, curious to know what pleasures ate at his soul, locked and hidden away?

“But just so you know,” Tommy resumes, “Joel’s not the best at… communicating.”

“I think I’ll just stick to the one drink.”

Then Tommy calls out your name as you’re getting ready to leave, catching your attention.

“A lil’ bit of advice?”

“Sure.”

“I shared a drink with someone once, got to know that someone… and now we’re married.”

You roll your eyes, exhaling.

“Really?” you ask. “What is it with everyone and marriage and kids today?”

“Who’s everyone?” Tommy asks with a deep frown.

“I thought I’d do something nice, okay? It’s not necessarily pity. I just… I get the pain, okay? I’m not heartless.”

“I know you’re not. My point was… take care.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

You don’t say anything in return. The memories attached to your family are both good and dark, with the latter tending to take control more often than not. You find yourself haunted by past mistakes, frozen by the inability to save your family, and those are things you’d much rather keep private.

Just like you suppose Joel wants to keep his daughter’s death. Locked in his past, far away from anyone’s prying eyes or pitiful gazes.

As the moon emerges bright on the sky and you settle on a secluded chair at the bar, ordering a whiskey, you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you now know the main reason for Joel Miller’s—everything. Suddenly you feel like an intruder in his life, learning about the darkest moment in his life without him consenting to it. Of course, you plan on saying nothing of the sort, but the knowledge still remains deep within your mind.

It all starts to make sense: the way he’s so overprotective of Ellie, always watching over her, laughing at all of her bad jokes and going out of his way to find things that’ll make her happy.

Maybe Ellie is his second chance at fatherhood.

And maybe you were far too quick to judge him.

You are far too immersed into the amber liquid that’s occupying the glass before you to accept the presence that’s settled onto the chair on your right. You can feel their eyes on you, scanning, almost judging you, and you all but groan. Instead, you take a larger sip, letting the alcohol burn your throat and slowly, your whole body.

“If you wanna know somethin’ about me, you ask me,” the voice to your right coos.

The tone is all too familiar at this point, husky and menacing, but it does nothing to you.

Well. That is not technically true.

Despite everything that you’ve gone through having that grumpy man on your tracks for the past year, almost, he makes you feel alive. Whenever he’s around you, you feel more inclined to simply breathe in and out, feel each moment as if it’s your last; and with your every argument, every vicious look thrown back at each other, it only manages to stir something inside you that you’ve just never felt before. It’s a bizarre yearning, a longing for something unclear, yet so perfectly understandable.

You huff, slowly turning towards Joel. “Would you voluntarily tell me things about yourself?” you ask coyly.

“No.”

You hide the smile that threatens to break from the corners of your mouth, one that you suspect would anger Joel.

“I take it you talked to Tommy,” you say, almost done with your drink now.

“I told you to stay away,” Joel retorts, and his voice sounds like he’s in pain.

For a moment, just a fleeting, temporary moment, you want to look deep into his eyes and tell him it’s okay to feel things.

But the moment passes as swiftly as it arrives, and you say nothing of the sort.

“Actually, you haven’t,” you tell him, cautiously this time. “You never said anything of the sort. All you said—well, all you did was—“

Joel turns abruptly towards you, catching your attention. His face isn’t its usual dark aura, the kind of silent anger that’s boiling just beneath the surface, ready to blow over should anyone come too close.

“I didn’t do anything.” He pronounces each word carefully, as if he’s trying to let you know that if so much as mention the thing that’s on both your minds, he will lash out.

“You know what, if you wanna deny things, say they never happened, fine, do what you want,” you lean in to whisper to him. “But maybe don’t do them in the first place. Because maybe those things might keep someone up at night, thinking and wondering. And maybe that person would hate lying awake thinking of something that… how was it? It’s not a big deal.”

Joel clenches his teeth, downing his drink and now fully turns to you.

“You don’t need to know about my past and I don’t need to know about yours,” he breathes.

“Fine. But I’ll just say this. Talking about someone you lost means preserving their memory. If you stop talking about them, it’s like they never existed. You keep them alive by talking about them, by—“

“You don’t have a goddamn clue what loss is.”

That’s what triggers you. That’s what sends you over the edge, to a point of no return. You think of your baby sister, of your parents and friends and the little Maya you met today, and your heart aches and trembles in your chest, tormented by past mistakes and ghosts.

“You’re not the only one whose world stopped when you lost someone. Sure as hell not the only one who’s experienced loss in this fucked up world. So stop acting like you’re the sole victim here.”

“Kid?”

You freeze, staring at Joel for longer than you probably should have.

“Baby sister,” you reply almost inaudibly, barely able to swallow your own saliva. “And many others. So don’t you dare think you’re the only one who’s suffered a loss, or the only one with demons to face. We all got ‘em. We’ve all gone through hell, we’ve all suffered. Some of us still are. Present company included.”

“That why you can’t use a handgun? Reminds you of shooting them dead?”

You can feel your pupils dilate, your pores diluted by sheer anger. You don’t know how he intuited that or how he knew, but it’s the one thing you won’t allow to have tainted any more than it already is.

“Joel,” you warn sharply and higher, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t.”

“Stings, doesn’t it?”

“Joel… don’t fucking go there.”

Regret washes over him the moment he sees your face, filled with anger and pain.

“I asked about your stupid birthday because I thought you know what? I might enjoy having a drink with the man. Because there might be something more to him that I’d like finding out. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. Like you said. What’s the point of it, anyway?”

 Joel wants to contradict you; he wants to grab your hands into his, squeeze them as he stares into your eyes and tells you that it does fucking matter, and it was a big deal, that kiss. He wants to tell you how you’re the first person he could even look at since Tess, how you sparked his interest without even trying and slithered into his life and mind without lifting a single finger, but rather pointing your shotgun and him, meaning business.

He says none of that. He only looks at you, ashamed of his prior words and reaction, trying to swallow them along with the whiskey. He barely registers the noises around him, the indistinct chatter, cuss words being thrown around with so much ease and the shoving. He only starts to notice something is amiss when you stand from your seat, eager to leave, and not able to navigate through the sudden crowd.

When Joel looks around, he sees a fight ensued. He stands up, willing to go after you and at the very least excuse his harsh words, but when he doesn’t see you, panic bubbles in his chest.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?!” Joel shouts around him, but there’s no reply.

Instead, Joel dodges a few punches thrown dangerously close to his own face. He soon realizes that the fight had escalated and that half of the bar was trying to break it apart. His heart is racing, and his mind is sending one signal: find her.

His eyes search through the crowd, elbowing his way through the people around him; he sees punches and kicks and he dodges them to the best of his abilities, but when he bumps into someone, his wrist gets caught onto some fabric. He pulls away sharply, the appalling aftermath of that one encounter shaking him completely.

Suddenly Joel’s eyes drop to the floor, frantically searching for his watch. It’s the first time in over twenty years that the watch is off his wrist and he’s never felt more vulnerable and exposed. Tears threaten to roll down his cheeks as he keeps searching, hopeless and maddened by the possibility that someone might step on the watch. He can’t lose it, he can’t be without it, he can’t—

The scream that he hears next chills him. Still frantic, heart almost bursting out of his chest, Joel finally spots you. You’re clutching your arm, facing away from the bar. He sprints towards you, unable to think of anything else.

“What happened?” he asks.

“One of these morons—popped my shoulder!”

“C’mon. Let’s get outside.”

On your way out, you hear Maria intervening and the fight finally broken. Then you faintly hear Tommy scolding whoever it was that started the whole thing, shouting in disapproval. Frankly, it’s kind of a blur with the blinding pain that you feel. You can’t feel most of your arm, and the warm air outside doesn’t lessen the sensation. Somehow, it gives the opposing effect and makes you feel like you’re about to catch on fire.

That, or it could also be the way Joel’s hands hold onto you so gently and carefully, guiding you to his house.

Foreign territory, you realize. But you don’t really look around, you can’t; not with white, hot pain searing through you.

Joel guides you to a couch, helping you down and taking a look at your shoulder. Then, his gaze shifts onto you, his eyes suddenly warm and soft and apologetic.

“I have to set it back in its socket,” he informs you.

You falter, spending one second too long staring at him. “Do it,” you nod.

Taking a deep breath in and closing your eyes, you try to ready yourself for what’s about to come. You’re familiar with all kinds of pain, but the one resulting from embarrassment of having someone who detests you help you in such a tense moment is something else entirely.

Nonetheless, it still takes you aback when it happens.

Joel pulls your arm, steady and carefully, but you still wail. You wail and groan, letting out the pain and a few beads of sweat protruding at your temples and on your forehead. And then you feel the same warm hands holding your arm at your chest.

“You’re good, you’re okay,” Joel coaxes you, his voice grave, yet oddly pleasant. “Focus right here, right here on me.”

You do as you’re told and lock eyes with him, breaths more even now. It hurts significantly less, though you’re not out of the woods just yet. You try to move your fingers to see whether Joel did a patch job or not, but next thing you know, his fingers are holding yours.

“Can you move them?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“Show me.”

You move the index first, wiggling it tentatively, then the middle one.

“All of them,” Joel instructs gently.

You move the ring finger and the pinky, then all of them at once, nice and slow. As you pleasantly remark that the nerves in your hand seem to be intact, you stifle a gasp at the realization that Joel’s fingers are intertwined with yours. The feeling is that of warmth and coziness, and yet… there’s electricity in it. Static, wild and treacherous.

“Looks good,” Joel concludes, clearing his throat a little.

Your eyes look up at him, finally meeting with his, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say you shivered.

“Feels good too,” you murmur, hoping it’s inaudible, or some figment of your imagination.

But it’s neither. Joel hears you, and this is very much real. Him, holding your hand and not pulling away like he usually does, it’s the realest thing he did in a while.

“Thank you,” you say.

Joel nods, back to his stoic self. He knows he should probably pull away, take his hand out of yours.

But he can’t.

“I’m—I’m sorry, by the way,” he manages to get out.

“For what?”

He falters. “For saying those things, back at the bar. I shouldn’t have said… it was cruel.”

“How did you know what happened?”

Your question is merely for pure information, nothing else. Yet shame won’t leave Joel’s body.

“The way you looked at that little girl. There was guilt in your eyes. The kind that stays with you forever, haunts you. For something you did.”

You don’t respond. You’re already feeling awfully vulnerable tonight, and opening about the biggest tragedy in your life isn’t something you wish to do. Not now, probably not ever.

“I’m also sorry for… oversteppin’ some boundaries, a while back,” Joel resumes, like he wasn’t anticipating an actual answer from your side.

You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting. That gets Joel impatient and flustered.

“You know what I—c’mon, don’t make me say it out loud,” Joel all but begs.

You smile in the slightest. “Humor me and say it anyway.”

With a loud huff, Joel manages to get out, “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Again, mere curiosity and interest. You’re not trying to get him to open up about anything, given that he didn’t do it to you when it comes to your sister.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “Like a lot of folks, I live my life one day at a time and I figured… I might die tonight, tomorrow mornin’… why not seize the moment with someone who ain’t half bad looking?”

You frown, unsure if you should feel flattered or insulted. “Oh, I’m not ‘half bad looking’? As opposed to what, the infected?”

“Better alternative.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and to your surprise, Joel does the same. His chuckle is deep, but heartfelt. It stirs something inside you, something pleasant that you wish wouldn’t vanish anytime soon.

“Anyway,” Joel resumes, feeling his cheeks flushed, “sorry about that.”

“You should be. It was pretty damn terrible.”

Joel’s the one who frowns this time around, staring incredulously at you. “What?”

You nod. “Yeah. Pretty awful. It was too short.”

Stunned, Joel can only blink and stare at you, unabashedly dropping his glare at your lips and licking his own subsequently. He’s painfully aware of the fact that he’s still holding your hand, and suddenly he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s overwhelmed and there’s adrenaline pumping in his veins, and you’re so close to him—but you’re still hurt, so he couldn’t—

“Joel,” you coo, bringing him back with his feet on earth, “you said it’s no big deal. So I didn’t—I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I tried to not let it get to me, but I—“

“It’s been a… long, long time since I felt anythin’ close to this. I thought I was over feeling these things. I didn’t expect to… want more. I don’t get close to people, not anymore.”

“You got close with Ellie.”

“It sneaked up on me. I didn’t expect to care about her so damn much, but I was wrong. And now, with you... you sneaked up on me too. In a whole other way.”

Your throat’s dry, heart pounding and you feel warm all over. You’re not sure if it’s from the pain, the glass of whiskey you had less than half an hour ago or Joel’s shy words—or perhaps a mixture of those three—but you do want to ease his worries a little, if you can.

“You think I went around making friends and dating?” you ask, and you see a hint of amusement on Joel’s face. “I sure as hell didn’t. Maybe scratch an itch here and there but I’ve never—I don’t think I’ve ever felt an urge like this one, right now.”

Joel’s face moves closer to yours, his eyes roaming all over your face to the point where your cheeks redden.

“What that might be like?” he asks.

“Like I want you around all the time. Like I… I think about kissing you again. And what it would be like to touch you.”

“So far so good?”

He’s looking at your hands, joined together by your fingers, and then back at you, and you shudder. You hate the impact this man has on you, the way he raises your blood pressure and heats your body with a single look.

But boy are you mesmerized by it.

“So far so good,” you confirm.

You lean in, perhaps foolishly so, but it’s what you feel the moment calls for. Even if it’s wrong, even if there’s a thousand reasons for why you shouldn’t do it, you’d still find one to go through with it.

“Hey, there you are!”

Ellie’s cheerful voice makes you and Joel separate in an instant, your hands no longer tangled. You meet Ellie’s gaze, who seems relieved to see you.

“Hey,” you tell her.

“I’ll get you something to hold the arm in place,” Joel announces rather awkwardly.

“I heard what happened,” Ellie says. “What a bunch of douche heads. How’s your arm?”

“Feels good. Joel reset it.”

“Ouch.”

“Eh, it wasn’t as painful as you might think.”

Joel steals a glance at you from the bedroom, smiling to himself. He can’t recall the last time he ever felt the urge to just smile because of someone’s presence.

“C’mere,” he tells you, tightly wrapping a cloth around your shoulder and arm. “Hold it still. Should last you a couple of days.”

“Thank you.”

You linger with your gaze, and so does Joel. However, Ellie frowns at the two of you, surprised that you aren’t at each other’s throats.

“Glad to see you’re okay,” she tells you. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

“Goodnight, Ellie. Thanks for checking in.”

“Sure thing.”

“Don’t think this means you’re getting out of practice tomorrow morning.”

“Wasn’t counting on it.”

You smile, watching Ellie leave. Once you’re alone with Joel again, you clear your throat, feeling oddly dry as you sit up.

“I should get some sleep,” you announce.

“I should too, I think.”

The warm air is thickened by unspoken words and silence, both your hearts racing unsteady inside of you. Joel walks you to your house, meeting your eyes when you’re on the dimly lit porch.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you tell him.

“Goodnight.”

If there was ever any moment to share a kiss, this would be it.

But as he walks away, shaking his left hand and realizing again how painfully empty it feels, he comes to realize that kissing you now, after the chaotic night you’ve had, would’ve led him to want more. He was already craving things that drove him insane with lust, and so putting an abrupt end to a potential kiss would’ve ruined him.

He knows that if he would’ve kissed you now, he wouldn’t have been able to stop.  

He thinks that if he’ll ever kiss you again, he definitely won’t be able to stop.

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This deserves so many more notes I cried sm and it's so well written and yet it cut me deeply

pairing: hard dom!joel miller x desperate!reader

ao3 crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44445643

rating: explicit (minors DNI)

word count: 7.8k+

summary: joel is your only hope, unfortunately. you and him aren’t on the best of terms…not after you left him for dead during a smuggling run. but, he’s the only one you can turn to when there’s no one left in your life that gives a fuck, so you swallow your pride and ask for help from the man who hates your guts. 

a/n: as always please read through ALL the warnings before proceeding: porn with plot, **dubious consent**, hard dom!joel miller, enemies to lovers, heavy angst (be ready for feels!), age gap, jealousy, possessive behavior, size difference, breaking and entering, use of the words “sir”/“princess”, dom/sub undertones, death threats, degradation, spit, praise kink, forced orgasms, squirting, spanking, bdsm, choking, knife play, unprotected piv, breeding kink, body worship, minor injuries/scars, hair-pulling, alcohol mention, drug abuse (sleeping pills), hurt/comfort, no use of y/n 

enjoy this little one-shot I whipped up in the moment! it’s been raining and I love the idea of being stuck in the rain with nowhere else to go except to your worst enemy’s home ;) have a fun read! 

｡ﾟ🌨｡ ﾟ ｡⋆ ﾟ petrichor (n.): the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil ｡ﾟ🌨｡ ﾟ ｡⋆ ﾟ 

Keep reading

You know what let me feel validated

GOOD GODzilla please tag me in the second part

he looks like he works with his hands (part 1/2)

pre-outbreak!joel miller x reader | 4.6k words

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, AFAB reader, , age gap, ex-babysitter reader, oral fem-receiving, pussy drunk joel, manhandling, abusive ex-boyfriend, some violence, protective joel, panic attack, anxiety

a/n: alright listen up, i seem to have a thing for joel giving y/n head first and then getting his fill, that being said expect a very detailed part two :) this first part is mostly plot and some smut, i plan on making this a two parter but it might be longer

“jesus christ almighty” joel muttered under his breath taking in your frame from where he stood leaned against his truck. he knew you were coming to visit, sarah had screamed when you called and nearly given him a heart attack. you were back in austin for grad school, the sweet girl you were you visited sarah as soon as you moved in. you had babysat sarah the summer after you graduated high school and one summer of freshman year, but then your parents moved near your out-of-state college and you never came back. and now you here you were torturing every breath exhaling out of joel’s lungs.

you were dawned in a denim mini skirt and a tight short-sleeved top that fell a bit short of the suggestion of fabric. your midriff was exposed slightly, showing off your honey smooth skin and your legs on display. it would’ve been completely suited for the scorching texas heat, but joel felt his head swim as the clothes clung to your curves and your face lit up after recognizing him.

“joel! you haven’t changed a bit!” your cheeks flushed as you bounded your way up the driveway. joel had to clench his teeth to stop from looking at the bounce that wasn’t just in your step.

“that a good thing I hope? you look well kid.” joel didn’t know why he added that last part, maybe it was a silent reminder to himself that the last time he’d seen you you were just a kid, and whatever he was feeling had to go. he didn’t notice the way your expression dropped a little at the word, you quickly disguised it with a teasing smile.

“thanks and yeah don’t worry sarah keeps you young, well as young as you could be.” you nudged him, moving towards the front door as he huffed out a laugh and you hated the butterflies that followed. you’d been a little bit in love with the man ever since that summer. god you had missed his voice, rough and deep and somehow still filled with all the confidence you wish you had. joel watched you walk to the front door like you were visiting a friend’s place and he had to admit he liked the notion.

joel followed you close behind as he picked out his belongings from his truck. sarah ran down the stairs and you laughed a little bit as she jumped into your arms. joel had to laugh at the theatrics, if he had known better it looked like you were visiting between deployments. “you’re so pretty, how did you get prettier?” sarah rushed out, excited and barely breathing as she spoke. joel couldn’t help but smile when his sweet daughter looked so excited.

“well, i don’t know about all that. i was gonna say the same to you, you grew up into a beautiful young lady. my little sarah’s all grown up.” you brushed a piece of her hair back, just like you remembered she liked it. joel felt his heart warm a little at that, even if it had been years since he’d seen you, you still cared for sarah just as much and that mattered to him. maybe you weren’t the stranger he thought you were. you and sarah caught up in the living room, joel sat and listened interjecting every now and then with questions of his own. you liked the feeling of being with them. you were across the country from your family now, so this semblance of family was all you could cling to. you blushed at the thought that made you could raise sarah like a daughter.

joel had trouble focusing when you shifted in your seat, your mini skirt not doing well to hide the maddening baby pink panties you had on. he was sure he was red, but he could explain that away by heat or a tan if he needed to. you weren’t any better, losing your focus when you saw him cross his muscular arms.

“do you wanna stay for dinner?” sarah asked and your face pouted a little as you braced yourself to disappoint the girl. her big brown eyes clung onto every word you said when you spoke next.

“i really would love to and thank you so much for the offer sarah-bear, but my highschool friends roped me into drinks with them at 9.”

“have dinner first, you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.” he said it like it was a command less than a question, his voice gruff and your mouth dried up as you nodded obediently.

joel had asked tommy to pick up food on his way over, you hadn’t realized that since it was friday night you would be interrupting their family night. when you asked joel if it was fine for you to stay he leveled you with a pointed look, “don’t be ridiculous doll.” and you shut well up at that. doll. it wasn’t quite what you needed but it wasn’t kid. doll you could work with. doll would creep its way into your dreams and the hours before sleep when your core burned from need, from a hunger for him.

with that you sat down and chatted with tommy and he was just the same, hotheaded but kindhearted over everything. he spoke it like he saw it and tommy got kicked in shin by his dear big brother when he took one look at you and said “dam-“ you couldn’t even hide your expression in time, making joel snicker.

dinner felt normal, as if you hadn’t stepped through the door after 4 years. tommy had gone through some girlfriends while joel had remained single. you would hold onto that fact like the last hope for your sanity. sarah was in middle school now, she had troubles of her own. you listened to her gossip like it was your own, interjecting with your own advice, and joel couldn’t understand how you were so enraptured by it. maybe there were some things he just couldn’t help sarah with.

after what felt like far too short of a dinner, you had to make your way to the pub. you helped clean up with joel while tommy and sarah sat in the living room.

“do you need a ride?” you rotated the thought in your mind, you being stuck with joel in a small space. you’d rather not, after all your roommate promised that you had a ride home.

“i was just gonna drive over and my friend is picking us all up after.”

“alright take my number just in case.” you flushed at his words, he kept demanding you do this and that and because you were fucking gone for him you listened. it was his voice you told yourself, not his heady musk or his big brown eyes staring you down. you let him write his number down on a piece of paper and you nodded with a meek thanks as you took it from him. his hand brushed against yours it was so much larger than yours, they had calluses and scrapes on them. you had always admired joel for his work, and his hands showed exactly how hard he worked for his daughter. you’d thought about his hands more often than you’d admit over the years.

you gathered your belongings from where they were strewn about over the couch, joel had to hold back a groan as you bent over a little too much for his sanity. you said goodbye to tommy and hugged sarah telling her you’d be over more often since she wasn’t far now. joel considered asking you to babysit again but he didn’t want to detract from your studies. if you offered he wouldn’t turn it down. sarah was adamant she didn’t need one but he’d rather you look after her than his well-intentioned bible-thumping neighbors.

joel felt like he’d already crossed the line of friendly employer or even anything you two had before so he had to stop himself from insisting you take one of his jackets to wear out. it wouldn’t get cold but you’d be drunk and probably chillier than you realized, not to mention a small part of him wanted you to cover up when you went out. joel very pointedly ignored that incessant primitive part of his mind.

he did however watch until you got into the car and drove away, as if something would happen to you between the short walk over. your heart was beating as you left the miller’s house. you would have to shake joel’s scent and gruff voice out of your senses, you could feel them seeping into your bones making your head dizzy.

you needed to drink.

catching up with your high school friends was the distraction you needed. you had been in contact with them through the years but there was nothing close to being in front of them. hours ebbed and flowed as you drank and chatted. you felt a buzz but you weren’t drunk, your lips were loose as you told them how your high school crush had returned with more force than ever.

the drinks weren’t enough to dissuade the panic that dripped down from your head as your eyes landed on a familiar figure entering the bar. your ex-boyfriend had just walked in and your body went into flight or fight. your friends noticed your gaze and groaned as they took in your issue. your friend was speaking, their words far away and faded, only when they shook your arm did you hear them, “y/n are you okay, we can leave?” you didn’t want your friends to end their reunion because of you, if he approached you, you would just leave by yourself.

“i’m fine, hopefully he doesn’t recognize me.” you doubted it very much, he had tormented you for two years and took any chance to continue after you broke up. despite your anxiety being spiked you managed to make conversation with your friends, speaking quietly so as to not bring attention to yourself. it all became too much when you flinched when he looked in your direction. you were feeling more anxious than ever, excusing yourself to the bathroom to collect yourself.

as you walked away you broke into a run, scared that he would see you and follow you. instead of feeling better you felt anxiety wrack your body as you practically slammed into the bathroom. all your memories of your relationship flooded into your mind as you entered a stall and felt your breathing stop and your head rush as your vision blurred. you were having a panic attack and your heart was beating irregularly, were you dying? oh god, your hands shook as you pulled out the piece of paper joel had handed you earlier and your cell phone and typed in the number without thinking. it was now 11:30pm, joel was probably asleep. you couldn’t stop yourself as your shaking fingers pressed call

two dials later and the call connected, “joel i’m sorry for bothering you but could you pick me up.” you rushed out, your breathing labored as you struggled to calm yourself down.

“hey sweetheart, calm down, where are you? i’m coming over.” you felt tears prick your eyes as you tried to listen to his soothing cadence and his assured words. sweetheart. you were joel miller’s sweetheart, you could get through this.

“i-i’m at Donn’s, my ex is here im in the bathroom right now.” your voice sounded weak, you sounded like a scared little kid and it made you cringe, meanwhile joel was feeling anger rise at your statement. he had remembered how awful the kid was, he’d kept his thoughts to himself but when you eventually broke up everyone was happy about it. he was already out the door when you spoke, now he’d be speeding.

“i’m on the way, stay on the phone, what did you have to drink?” you wiped your stray tears as you felt your anxiety subside, joel’s voice and the distance you had put between your ex and yourself, grounding you. you babbled to joel, every now and then he’d throw in a follow-up question or a hum of acknowledgment, it all felt so normal you ached to talk to him like this more often. joel was calming you down, keeping you distracted, he was the only thing keeping you from another panic attack and you almost sobbed at that over the phone.

“hey joel?”

“yeah doll?” a shiver traveled down your spine at the pet name. you were so gone for him.

“thank you for this, i owe you.”

“you don’t owe me anything, i’d do it again.” you don’t know if that was joel’s southern hospitality or if he really meant it, either way you’d let that statement soothe you.

“i’m almost there, just pulling into the parking lot, take your time coming out alright, i’ll meet you inside?” you could hear him pulling into the parking lot rather quickly, you exhaled slowly as you told him you were coming and exited the stall. you quickly made your way to your friends, telling them you weren’t feeling well and that you would be heading home early. you told them that joel was picking you and you would’ve laughed at their reaction if not for the anxiety crawling back up your spine.

you waved them goodbye moving towards the door when your vision was blocked, you looked up to meet the eyes of your ex. your stomach dropped as your mouth went dry and you opened to speak, to try and get away but you were frozen in place. “hey babe, you miss me?”

“i’m not your babe.” you gritted out, trying to move past him when he raised an arm across your middle and you felt like throwing up.

“come on you’re still mad? i was just a kid.” anger bubbled up in your throat and your eyes stinged from frustration.

“get away from me.” you hated his touch, you wanted to scrub your body and push away the memories it brought back.

“such a fucking bitch, you still think you’re too good for me huh? you’re still as busted and arrogant as ever.” your vision was blurring and you couldn’t breathe, you looked down to your feet wishing that you could be anywhere but here.

“y/n.” joel’s voice brought you back to reality, you looked up, looking over your ex’s shoulder to see joel. he took one look at your watery eyes and crushed expression and saw red. your ex turned to meet joel’s glare.

“who the fuck is this?” you didn’t speak, your voice was caught in your throat but you took his distraction as a chance to move away. you quickly moved around him, standing next to joel as your ex turned towards both of you.

“let’s go.” joel ignored him, looking at you and trying not to break the fucker’s jaw. you could see joel was seething, his chest rising and falling and his brows furrowed in anger. you’d never seen him so upset, and you knew it wasn’t pointed at you because his eyes softened when they met yours.

“hold on pal i’m talking to you, you fucking her? she’s a slut don’t waste your time.” your ex put a hand on joel’s shoulder, trying to charm him and joel took one look at the guy before landing his fist square in his jaw. your ex dropped in a blink of your eye and you gasped as joel ground out a threat.

“don’t talk to her ever again, you hear?” your ex nodded furiously from where he lay on the ground, rushing out a yes in between a string of curses. you let joel pull you away, your ex crying out and wailing in pain as you left. you couldn’t think as you followed joel, his hand on yours. it enclosed yours fully, rough and warm around your hand and you let it distract you.

joel miller had just punched your ex and rescued you, you couldn’t think straight blinded by one thought and one thought only. you just wanted to-your hands found his face as you stopped in front of the passenger door, you moved quickly as you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. joel’s expression changed from anger to confusion and then something else you couldn’t place in the streetlight lit parking lot. and then you felt panic as he didn’t look particularly happy with your actions.

“i’m sorry we can forget-“ you leaned against the closed door, removing your hands and creating some distance for him.

“no darlin’ don’t apologize, just wondering if you’ll remember this tomorrow.” joel could taste whiskey on your lips, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he took advantage of you being drunk.

“joel, i’ve never felt more sober.”

“good.” he took the hand that had been holding yours, the one that didn’t touch your ex and tilted your chin up, and your eyes met his. they were looked like honey and you wanted to swim in them. joel leaned his head, brushing his lips against yours and you could feel his facial hair scrape against your soft skin. it lit a fire within you. your arms came up around his neck, his hand moving to the small of your back, deliciously pulling you closer and you gasped into his mouth. joel tasted like heaven, just his breath alone was making you dizzy as you let him explore your mouth and make your lips mold to his. despite his intimidating exterior, joel kissed you like you were the only person on earth, taking his time to draw gasps from you and when his mouth moved off yours to dip under your jaw you lost your mind. your hands came up to press his head into the space between your head and your chest, as he littered your skins with kisses and nips. you whined out his name, your legs shaking as you raked your hands through his hair, probably leaving it as a mess. you opened your eyes to take him in, his lips puffy and his hair a mess, his breathing was as hard as yours and his big brown eyes had darkened.

“joel, please.” your hands were still in his hair, as you whispered into the fraction between your lips between sloppy kisses.

“please what doll?” did you have to say it? joel could read your mind, your thoughts written on your face from your cloudy eyes to your parted puffy lips. you looked wrecked and all he had done was kiss you. joel didn’t think he could hold back much longer, but he wanted you to be sure. you shivered as he leaned back, his warmth leaving you and his piercing gaze making you squirm. you managed to cough up the courage to speak next.

“come back to my place, my roommate is at her boyfriend’s place.” joel’s eyes flashed with desire, his hand shooting out to your hip, grazing the exposed patch of skin above your skirt and opening the passenger door. you shivered against at the feel of his hand against you, god you were pathetic but at least you could blame it on the slight chill of the night.

“get in.” you didn’t think twice as you turned to get in, joel holding the door open for you and feeling his sanity crumble when your damn skirt hiked up again. when joel got into the car you began to take in everything that happened.

“is your hand okay?” he’d been carefully keeping it away from you and when he was driving. it didn’t look broken under the city lights but you could bet it hurt.

“yeah it’s fine don’t worry.” he showed you to prove his point, besides some bruises on his knuckles, his hand did look fine.

“you, uhm thank you.” you couldn’t articulate just how much it all meant to you and you didn’t know how to start thanking him for every single thing he did. joel nodded at your words, not really thinking he needed to be thanked.

“if he ever comes near your again, or if anyone talks to you like that, you come to me alright?” you swallowed down, meeting his gaze at the red light. you felt heat travel south, the prospect of joel being there for you if anyone disrespected you made you clench your legs together. pressure building in your core, joel had to hold back a smirk as he watched you squirm in the seat.

“yeah i will.” your voice sounded breathy, your heart was beating so fast in your chest you wanted the car ride to be over so you could feel his lips against yours again. you needed him so badly your hands itched to find home in his hair again.

the rest of the car ride was silent, only interrupted by you giving him directions to get to your apartment.

you made your way to the apartment with joel following you closely behind, his eyes not moving from the view of your curves. you unlocked your door, throwing your pursed on your couch and turning towards joel, he took in your place. there were unopened boxes strewn about and minimal furtiniture but the place was plenty big for two students.

“can i get you something to drink?” you stood against the back of your sofa, looking at joel when he met your gaze. his stepped towards you, hands finding purchase on your hips, his thumbs grazed your skin and you felt dizzy looking into his eyes.

“just you.” confusion flashed on your face replaced quickly by awe as joel sank to his knees in front of you, looking up at you for any sign of disapproval. you nod, in a daze, joel presses kisses up your legs as you lean back on the sofa for support, your legs feeling weak at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. you couldn’t believe this was happening.

joel’s face was at the height of your pussy, his hands on your hips to pull down your skirt, and you whined at the feeling of his hands on you, moving you to his will. you'd fantasized about the rough pads of his fingers against your clit, scraping against you relentlessly until you unfolded for him. joel pulled them down in one swift motion and was met with the sight of your infuriating hot pink panties. “fucking hell these have been torturing me all day.” you found your voice moments later as you processed what he said.

“you like them?” his fingers traced the edges so gently, punctuating your sentence with a snap of the waistband against your hip, you gaspedz

“like isn’t the word i’d use but they definitely made an impact,”

“i wore them for you.” you were barely processing your thoughts before they were spilling out of your mouth.

“yeah? you’re flattering me sweetheart.” joel’s fingers ghosted over your pussy making you twitch under his barely there touch.

“no i mean it, i’ve wanted you ever since i’ve known you.” you were leaning into his touch, preening at the small contact, joel’s lips twitched at your desperation.

“god amn’t i too old for you?,” joel wanted so badly not to think that what he was doing was wrong, but when you looked at him like that he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. you should’ve been with someone your own age.

“joel please, you're the hottest man i’ve ever known.”

“such a sweet talker baby, that’ll get you places.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he kissed your clit over your underwear, you clenched on air when he called you baby. if he didn’t touch you, you might just come in your underwear.

“i hope s-so, oh god.” you whined out as he stuck his tongue out dampening the spot where your clit was, the pressure of his tongue on your clit even over the fabric made you moan. you felt like crying from his teasing, it was becoming too much for you. and joel sensed it as he pulled your underwear down on one swift moment, leaving you bare centimeters from his face.

“so pretty, angel.” you whined out, your hand coming down to intertwine in his brown curls, trying to ground yourself. joel tapped the inside of your knee, silently asking you to widen your stance while the other hand, the one he had just used to punch your ex clasped around the back of your other knee and lifted it over his left shoulder. you gasped at the spread, at the feeling of being so exposed for him but joel didn’t give you a chance to think too hard about it. his mouth pressed against your clit and you gasped at his mustache grazing your sensitive skin. on top of the maddening desire you had for him he was scratching against you, adding to your craze.

joel sucked on your clit, his tongue circling and stroking you until you cried out his name, he wasn’t letting you off so easily as his mouth moved south. his tongue licked up your folds, his mouth collecting all the arousal that threatened to drip for you. as if he was a dehydrated and starved man, joel moved impossibly closer pushing you against the back of the couch until it dug into your back and drank you in like it was all he had. his tongue lapping you up and delving into you for more, you kept giving him more and more and joel didn’t think he could ever have enough. you tasted so damn good, he’d remember your taste for days, for years, he’d let it haunt him as long as he could. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when joel decided it wasn’t enough, his other hand coming to raise your other leg onto your shoulder, his head now crushed between your thighs. your arms shook as you kept yourself hoisted up on the back of your couch. joel didn’t care, he wanted to drown on your ichor, he’d let you suffocate him if it meant he could continue tasting you. the desperation in his actions and his relentless mouth on you made you cum, your arms burned as they held you up and you tried not to squeeze joel between your thighs but you couldn’t help it. joel removed one of your thighs from his shoulder, watching you shake from the overstimulation as he lapped up your come.

“you taste like heaven darlin’” you couldn’t form a sentence you only whined out his name as you took in his slickness jaw and glistening facial hair. you were all over his face and you felt like crying. you removed your other leg and tugged at his shoulder for him to stand, joel used the back of the sofa to help him stand, crowding you against it. you looked at him desperately, you didn’t want this to end, you could feel his hard-on press against you. but you couldn’t think. joel was looking at you like you were god’s single most beautiful creation.

“are you gonna let me fuck you pretty girl?” his drawl made his words come out slurred as he whispered them in the space you shared between your mouths, he sounded drunk and you could smell your cum on his breath. you nodded furiously, your eyes wide and joel felt like you were the most willing prey and he was a predator. he couldn’t find it in himself to care, lifting you by the back of your knees and letting you point him to your bedroom.