Tlou Smut - Tumblr Posts

you guys send requests so i can write plsss im making an appearance

ellie x bimbo!reader ?? (modern au!)

a/n: love this! i'm going to do it in headcanon format but if you want it in actual like... story form just lmk!! this request is so fun hehe thank you for requesting!!!

there is a tiny amount of smut at the end as well!

when ellie first met you, she really didn't see it going anywhere

you guys were just classmates, hell she barely knew your name

you were paired up with her along with 3 other people for your big final project in astronomy class. a class you were not good at all

thankfully ellie was good and actually enjoyed it

the other 3 people rarely showed up and just kinda put feedback in the group chat you guys had, which annoyed ellie to no end, but that meant the two of you were around each other a good chunk of the day for weeks on end to pick up the slack

she may be a little more on the masc side but she didn't usually go for hyper-femme girls

usually

she thought you were endearing with your questions and accessories bouncing everywhere

ellie always liked how you smelled too, cotton candy and strawberries, but she would never admit that

the tipping point for her was at a party

you looked at her with these puppy-dog eyes

she swears she's never felt her heart actually stutter before

that's when you had her hooked on you

dating ellie was genuinely the best thing that could've happened to you

usually, people dated you but disrespected you the whole time because of your bubbly attitude and the way you would constantly ask questions

not ellie though

she actually treated you like a human

you loved how she would always open the doors for you and guided you through crowds with her hand on your lower back

if you guys went to a fast food place and you didn't order anything, she never complained when you ended up taking half of her fries

you had ellie wrapped around your finger

little did she know she always had you wrapped around hers

if she told you to jump off a cliff, you would, that's how much she affected you

her nicknames for you always sent you into overdrive

"sweet girl" and "pretty girl" were the two main ones she used

but when her fingers were buried deep inside you, her forearm burning from using it, she would call you her "stupid bitch"

"yeah, you like that? stupid slut." her fingers hitting the spot deep inside of you that made you writhe around

when she had her strap on, pounding you from behind, she would always pull you against her chest and shove two fingers in your mouth

"keep quiet, baby," her breath tickled your neck, "wouldn't want the whole dorm to hear you."

in general, ellie was head over heels for you

it happened so quickly for her but she was infatuated so she really didn't care that much

you were just glad she accepted your bimbo ways <3

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

.

.

.

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling. 

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 

Liam folds. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 

“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 

And it seemed like you were no exception. 

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 

“God, yes.” 

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 

You sink to your knees immediately after that. 

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 

“Is this pussy mine?” 

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 

“I think he left, sweetheart.” 

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore. 

𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨 - 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 2k

chapter summary: if you were wondering how Joel took his spicy picture for Asha, this is how.

warnings: male masturbation, use of a mirror, nipple play, spitting, very explicit, a tad bit of joel putting himself down, you're not there physically but you're definitely there in spirit, brief thoughts of rimming, lil bit of self ass play

a/n: this is a little gift for all of you guys who love SIB, and it's also an apology because it looks like I won't be able to get the new chapter out this week but believe me, I'm working on it 🧡 This takes place between chapters four and five, if you don't mind getting spoiled feel free to read. and yes those are pedro's hands in the moodboard jfc look at those veins

“Do you like it?” 

Joel looks down, a bit shocked, but not unpleasantly. Between his fingers, he holds a photo of Asha, naked as the day she was born. Her lean hand covers her sex, leaving it to his imagination and her breasts were glistening—he presumes she used an ointment of some kind— and her nipples were hard, indicating that she played with herself before taking the picture. 

His cock twitches and he swallows thickly around the knot forming in his throat. 

“ ‘Course I do,” he groans, shifting on the bed. “And you want me to take one too?” 

“If you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t but I ain’t as pretty as you are.” 

With a grin, Asha traces a hand above the expense of his bare chest, the tips of her fingers dipping over his sternum. 

“You’re prettier than you think.” 

Joel stares at the window, his jaw tight and fingers tense around the small shot glass that he holds. A breeze comes through the window and rustles the curtains. He can hear crickets. With a deep sigh, he throws back his head and swallows the amber fluid. It burns as it goes down. 

He closes the windows, then the curtains. He’s hoping the liquid courage would take its effect soon. The bottom of the glass hits the bedside table and he falls to the bed, staring begrudgingly at the camera. He decided to place the tripod right in front of the mirror, which now he realizes wasn’t a good idea. He’s not that thrilled in seeing himself being so unsure. He drags his palm down his face, eyes falling to the drawer where Asha’s picture lays. He’s still not sure why she asked for it—well, he knows why, he just doesn’t understand why him. 

Joel’s aware he’s not the worst looking out here, he’s definitely caught your gaze once or twice lingering on him whenever he’s out fixing the truck. And Asha surely seems to be infatuated with him. But that had only happened now. Not when he was young. Not when he was attending high school and working full shifts to take care of Tommy. And when people did approach him, it was mostly to get closer to The Tommy Miller—his younger brother was always the one with the charm and charisma. 

Suddenly Joel’s heart feels lighter, hints of joy warming his chest. Asha wants that picture. She wants to see him, wants to keep him close.

Licking his lips, he walks up to the camera and adjusts the timer. His mind wanders to the moment he shared with you at the bar. He’d acted impulsively, kissing your cheek like that. The only thing granting him relief was the fact that it seemed nothing more but a friendly gesture from the outside. 

It sure as hell hadn’t felt friendly from the inside. It felt more than that. 

Before pressing the shutter, he sits back down on the bed. The old furniture creaking with protest. He peels off his shirt, throws it to the floor. He thinks about what kind of pose to do, and about how naked he should be. He’s not that comfortable showing his dick. He’s not that comfortable showing his face either—so what the hell is he supposed to do? 

He cups his cock and rubs his palm through the denim. An immediate burst of heat rolls up his spine, his dick twitching with need. He breathes out a soft exhale and repeats the movement. Grinding his palm against his growing erection. 

Oh, that definitely feels nice. 

A smile tugs at his lips and his pulse quickens. Without much thought, he swipes his thumb over a nipple. A hiss elevates from the back of his throat, his hips stuttering into the air. With a sudden desperation, he unbuckles his belt and cheats his hand down his jeans. He’s rough with himself. Grabbing his cock and tugging at the head until he’s hard and dripping. Joel sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, the pain also adding to the heat growing between his legs. 

“This should be good,” he murmurs, walking back up to the camera. He clicks the shuffle and stumbles back, he tries to strike something similar to a pose. He stretches a bit, sucks in his stomach, and decides to leave his hand lingering down his pants. 

His chest heaves, but he’s excited when he hears the click. He’s genuinely surprised at how aroused he is, thick drops of precum heavy over his knuckles. 

Joel had never considered himself to be a kinky person. As far as he knew, he was into the same things as most guys his age. But maybe he had more going on in this thick noggin of his than he thought. 

Joel definitely doesn’t mind the camera now. 

The picture pops out and he yanks it away from the device. He wags it in the air a bit, a form of a body slowly appearing on glossy paper. He takes a good look at himself. Half of his face is out of frame, which pleases him. There’s a slight blur to the background that he kinda likes. Thanks to the way his hand is hidden underneath the front of his jeans, his forearm looks quite nice and strong. 

With a pleased smile, he places it between the pages of a magazine. Then he allows himself to fall back to the bed, his legs hanging off the side. Joel grunts as he kicks off his jeans, not wanting to feel restricted anymore. It’s not often he’s alone in the house. He plans on taking advantage of it. 

He pulls a pillow down to where his head is, getting comfortable, he glances at himself through the mirror. A flush darkens his cheeks. He never watched himself before. Never saw the faces he makes. Some part of him wants to ignore the sudden interest and just take care of his…situation, but the other part of him wants to experiment. It almost feels like someone is watching him. 

He remembers seeing a mirror in your house. Have you ever indulged in this way? Get naked in front of the mirror and fuck yourself with a toy that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as his cock could be? 

I’m fucking losing it, he thinks. But he can’t stop thinking about it now. 

Joel's hand moves down to his cock, his fingertips brushing over the sensitive head. His breathing becomes shallow as he starts to stroke himself, the soft moans escaping his lips filling the quiet room. He closes his eyes and imagines you there with him, your fingers tracing along his body, your lips pressing against his skin. 

His fingers trail down his chest, gliding over the curves of his nipples, each touch sends a shiver, his tighs going taut and stiff. His eyes flicker to the mirror, he catches a glimpse of himself - naked, a flush of pink creeping up from his chest to his neck.

He hesitates, wondering what he's doing, and why he's doing it. But then he remembers you, the way you looked at him at the bar, the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, the way you leaned in close when you spoke. Your scent; a sharp inhale of blooming flowers mixed with the suffocating scent of the paint that you use. You’re a ghostly presence, something that’s always with him, but not in the way that he wants. 

Joel squeezes his cock and moves up his hand, swiping the head with the flat of his palm. He wants everything to be wet, messy, and tight. With a sudden impulse, he pushes his upper body off the bed and goes to spit on his cock. A soft tremor burrows in his stomach. A rather indulgent moan coming alive in the back of his throat. 

Pursing his lips, he spits again, the wetness instantly being spread out with his hand. He watches the way his cock glistens through the mirror. Joel wants to believe it’s your slick instead, making him warm and wet. You’d be so eager to take him, so needy for him to fuck you. His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek. He’d make you beg a bit for it first. Joel would want to hear your voice getting high and squeaky, but he wouldn’t let the game go on for too long. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s not appreciative of you and your perfect pussy. 

His strokes speed up, wet sounds getting louder. Joel allows his imagination to run wild. A string of sultry images flashes in his mind. 

You, on your knees, struggling to take his cock down your throat. 

You, bent over, asscheeks spread, begging him to fill you up. 

You, asking for him to fuck you harder, faster. 

And him, eager to follow every command. 

Fuck, and you’d look so good too. Moaning his name, soaking his cock and fingers. He licks his lips, imagining how you would taste like. Something sweet, he bets, sweet and maybe a bit bitter. Just like you. 

Jerking himself, a visceral whine crawls out of his throat. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment and he swears he can feel you. Your weight, your heat—all of it crashing down on him and bringing him near the peak. He loosens his grip, traces the throbbing vein that curls around his cock with the blunt of his nail. With a shallow breath, he slips his fingers lower.

Joel’s mouth floods when he cups his balls, rolling them in his palm, he gives them a gentle tug. The coil in his stomach tightens, a tremble overwhelming him. With his tongue between his lips, his fingers brush the skin right underneath. His eyes snap wide open, liquid, molten, lava-like pleasure boils his veins—he gasps and his hips stutter into the air, his dick painfully hard, drips over his stomach. 

His hand dips further down his legs. Very gently, Joel circles the puckered hole with the pad of his middle finger but doesn’t dare to go further. He never has. This is as far as he’s gone, discovering that the little tease was enough to get him riled up at a young age. He imagines your tongue teasing over the hole instead of his finger. 

“Fuck.” 

His own voice sounds estranged to him. It sounds so deep, and raspy. Like he’s been sick for days. A shudder overwhelms him when he wraps his calloused fingers around his cock once more. He’s so fucking close. His breathing comes in short, shallow pants, the head of his cock a dark red. He fuck himself into his fist harder, faster, tightens the gap, thinking that it’s you. 

His eyes move back to the mirror, his other hand teasing at his nipples, pulling and twisting them until he moans out loud. The sight of himself, of his own arousal, is a heady aphrodisiac. He’s wrecked. It never felt this good before. There’s a buzz in his veins, an itch that can’t be scratched. His cock is drooling all over himself. His breath catches in his throat—He’s about to—shitshitshit—

Joel fixes his gaze on his reflection; he looks so out of it, lips swollen and parted, hair a mess and eyes glazed over. Fuck, he’s starting to understand now what Asha meant by calling him pretty. 

A long whine leaves his lips as the first string of pearly white cum splashes over his stomach. It’s followed by another one, and then another. His eyes roll back into his skull. He feels it on his chest, stomach, knuckles….a growl rattles in his chest. Pleasure rakes his body from his toes to his head. He strokes himself harder, loosening and tightening his grip around his cock to mimic the feel of your fluttering cunt might be. Joel’s eyes flutter closed, heavy pants leaving his lips. He feels dizzy, disoriented. 

When he opens his eyes again, he smooths his hand over his stomach, spreading the stickiness all over his sweaty skin. He cheats another glance at the mirror. 

God, he wishes you were here to clean him up.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little interlude ♡ I do realize that some parts of this might be a bit out of character for Joel but I just love thinking of him as someone who always wanted to experiment more but just never had a chance to do so, a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. He's just looking for that person he can trust to have some fun with 🤭 I also think of him being a bit self coincidence which we will be seeing more of in the future.

Wishing everyone an amazing weekend, new chapter will be coming soon!

Forgive Me (Joel Miller x f!reader/ofc)

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/ofc (unnamed, no physical description)

Words: 3.5k

Rating: E 18+

Warnings: masturbation, the male gaze, dub con (looking at nudes without consent), references to p in v sex and blow jobs, references to drugs and alcohol, violence, general Joel Miller angst and self-loathing [let me know if I missed anything]

Summary: When Joel finds himself in possession of some sexy photos, temptation makes him question himself as he's fascinated by a woman he's never met.

A/N: She's back! I think it's been a year since I've posted any Pedro fic. I've been kind of uninspired but mainly focused on publishing my first novel. But Joel's got me all kinds of distracted from revising my manuscript. Please enjoy some angst.

...

It rained. A gray sky blanketed the QZ making everything look even more bleak. As if it needed help. Joel and his customer had taken cover under some scaffolding. Luckily, the weather meant that there weren’t a whole lot of people around, no suspicious glances in their direction. 

Joel opened his wet bag to reveal a pair of work boots to the buyer. Vince’s eyes lit up. 

“Hell yeah,” he said. 

Joel flipped the backpack closed again. These had been hard to come by and he’d gotten pretty good at this beat. Nobody got their hands on any goods without paying first. 

“Alright. I got you, man,” Vince said. This wasn’t his first rodeo either. He’d been doing business with Joel since the very beginning. He bought all kinds of shit— a radio, chocolate, tiny bottles of shampoo. Joel wasn’t sure if Vince resold the stuff but it was better not to know about that kind of thing. 

Vince put his cards into Joel’s hand and Joel counted. 

“What the hell is this?” Joel asked. 

Tucked into the stack of ration cards were a couple of photographs. A quick glance showed him they were all the same woman, naked or nearly naked. Vince had tried to pawn this stuff off on him before. In fact once he tried to pay with porn and Joel had to tell him he only accepted ration cards. 

“Just a little something extra,” Vince said with a wink. He happily took the boots and gave them a once over. “You got my size and everything.”

“I’m not interested,” Joel said and tried to hand the pictures back. 

“Come on,” Vince chuckled. “A stiff prick for a stiff prick.” He gave Joel a friendly slap on the shoulder which only deepened his scowl. 

“See you around.” Vince walked away and Joel had no choice but to tuck the bundle into his jacket. 

When he got home, Joel hid the ration cards away as he always did. He put the photographs into the hole in the floor as well. He hadn’t given them another look since they went into his pocket. Joel might’ve just gotten rid of them but nothing went in the trash without careful consideration. Everything in the QZ had value and these pictures were obviously worth something to somebody. It didn’t feel right to sell them but in a pinch, it would be good to have something that could grease some wheels. 

He put the floorboards back and promptly forgot about them. 

...

Joel’s hand reached into the hole in the floor. It was the end of a long and awful week. The Fireflies were causing trouble which meant the FEDRA rats were out in force. Joel hadn’t done any lucrative business in days. The honest work he could get was as degrading as ever. He smelled like trash and shit. He needed a fucking drink, couldn’t wait to feel it burn in the back of his throat. There was no chance his muscles would uncoil without a couple of shots. As he fished his bottle out of its hiding place, his fingers caught on something else. The slick side of a photograph stuck to his sweaty palm as he drew his hand out from under the floor. It’d been a while since he’d put the nudes down there and he hadn’t thought about them at all since. 

Joel looked at it. Curiosity, plain and simple. It was a Polaroid, taken on long-expired film that gave everything a tinge of sepia. The woman in the photograph looked out at him, a coy smile on her lips. It wasn’t her face that caught his attention. She sat on the edge of a bed, tits bare. One of her thumbs was hitched in the elastic of her panties. 

He pulled the other two out, just to see the variety, and took them over to his bed along with his bottle. The photos got more explicit. In the first she was laying back, completely exposed and touching herself. The other one had her on all fours, looking over her shoulder at the camera, at Joel. 

At first Joel chuckled to himself. He never considered himself to be the type to go for such exaggerated, porny stuff. And he hardly lost control of himself. There wasn’t room for desire in his life. Pleasure wasn’t a part of his vocabulary anymore. From the sludge that passed for his morning coffee to the hard mattress he lay on at night, there was nothing enjoyable to be found around him. 

Still, he felt himself twitching in his jeans. She had a nice body, the kind he used to like when he thought about things like that. She looked soft and he bet she smelled good. 

Joel began to wonder about her, if she’d taken the pictures for her lover. Or maybe for an ex who’d traded them to spite her. Either way, they weren’t for him. She might’ve posed for a creep like Vince to get a few ration cards. 

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like knowing that he was the kind of man who got stiff gawking at her. Joel did all kinds of things he wasn’t proud of but he had a good reason for them. Getting off on some woman’s private pictures just seemed wrong. 

She wasn’t his daughter but she was somebody’s and that made Joel’s gut twist. 

He tossed the photo aside and laid back, draping his forearm across his eyes. For a while he laid there trying to will his hard on away. His muscles were even more tense than before. He ground his teeth and screwed his eyes shut but the image of the woman had burned itself in. Soon he was absentmindedly touching himself through his jeans, dragging his fingertips over the lump in the denim. He craved that release. Each slow stroke made him pulse with want. 

He growled. What fucking difference did it make? Joel was acting all high and mighty like it meant something. He wasn’t any better than the man who’d given him these pictures. He had his own vices and he always felt about an inch away from violence. This poor girl had no idea he was looking at her body, that seeing her flesh was getting him hard. If that was the worst thing that ever happened to her, he told himself, she was lucky. 

Human decency be damned. Joel gave in to that selfish part of him, the animal inside that cared only about his own survival, his own desire. This world had taken everything from him and he was going to steal something from her. He knew what that made him but he didn’t care. 

Joel unzipped his fly, his cock weeping furiously and straining against his boxers. He took up the last photo, the one that was doubled over ass-out, and spit into his other fist. He pulled at himself as he glared at the picture. It felt good. Slick and tight. 

He could see a trail of wetness at her core reflecting the camera’s flash and he imagined how fantastic it would feel to plunge into her, to hold onto her hips and groan and buck against her. He kept tugging on his cock, squeezing at the head and dreaming up the noises she’d make, the sounds of their bodies connecting. He sped up his fist. He wanted her to cry out his name. He wanted her to take him away from all of this shit, just for a minute, just sixty fucking seconds when he could forget. 

A spasm ran up from his groin, an electric shock that travelled up his spine, and he moaned and swore through gritted teeth as he came. His heart pounded in his chest as he lay back, sticky and sweating. The photograph was still in his grip as his breath evened out. 

That wasn’t the last time he used her picture. Whenever he was amped up or way down, he’d retrieve the photos and get to work on himself. 

There was one photograph he favored over the others, the one where she was on her back. He liked to think about standing over her, taking in the sight of her. His eyes would move over every velvet inch of her before he went any further. 

She could be whatever he needed. Sometimes he would imagine her seducing him, straddling his hips and lowering herself onto his cock with a luxurious sigh. Others, he liked her to be sweet and innocent, just for him. When he was having a shitty day, he’d picture himself fucking brutally into her mouth until tears ran down her cheeks. It was messed up and he knew it but the guilt wore off quickly. He had next to nothing in this world, at least he could have this release.

... 

Joel had been waiting longer than he wanted. He’d circled the block three times already and he was getting impatient. He was meeting a buyer who was late and if they didn’t show soon, they’d be out of luck. Joel didn’t like to linger. 

He rounded the corner on the square and did his best to blend in. Another round of executions were underway. Above the crowd, four people were lined up on the catwalk, ropes around their necks. Joel chose to ignore it. He scanned the faces around him until he saw someone familiar. It wasn’t his contact. He wasn’t sure where he’d seen her before. That happened often— he’d spot someone he thought he knew from his past life. Most of the time, it was just a trick of the eye, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the woman on the other side of the square. 

She had her arm around another woman. The other one was more than middle aged and crying, tears running over the wrinkles on her cheeks. The woman, the one that Joel recognized, pulled her friend in close and glanced around. She wasn’t crying but she had a lost expression on her face. That’s when he realized. 

Joel was looking at the woman from the photographs. There was no doubt in his mind that it was her. He’d spent over a year staring at that face. In person, she was just as pretty but her appearance was hidden under the same dirt and weariness everyone in the QZ wore. 

Joel’s chest went tight and he couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t breathe. His body was crushed by shame and disgust. He had violated her and she didn’t even know it. 

The FEDRA officer read out the charges and she squeezed her friend in close so she wouldn’t have to watch the bodies drop. Obviously there was someone up there that they knew. Joel watched her face go stony as the platform fell out. She barely winced, like she was just there to bare witness, but he could guess how she felt. You lost enough people, what was one more friend dying right in front of your eyes?

The crowd broke up and she lead her companion away, a tender hand on the older woman’s shoulder. Joel had no choice but to move and his feet decided to head in the same direction as the woman. He kept his distance because he wasn't following her. At least he told himself that he that. It just wasn’t safe for him to hang around with FEDRA crawling all over. Dusk was falling so she was probably headed home before curfew fell. 

Joel watched her wind down the streets, all the while sick to his stomach. He truly was a creep. He didn’t know why he was going after her. The last thing he wanted was to spook her and it wasn’t like he planned on introducing himself. There was a funny idea in his mind that she might turn around and see him and know, just by looking at his face, what he’d done. Maybe she’d scream at him and slap him in the face. Part of him wanted that. He deserved it. 

She was just helping her friend up the stairs to one of the brownstones when Joel connected with something. He’d been so wrapped up in watching the woman, he wasn’t looking at where he was going. It startled him out of his thoughts to be inches away from a FEDRA officer. Usually Joel kept a wide berth but he’d walked right into the back of his bulletproof vest. The officer turned and put his hands on his hips, narrowed his eyes. 

Joel gave an apologetic nod. 

“Move along,” the FEDRA officer commanded. 

Joel did, unsure he deserved to slip out of a close call like that. 

When he got home, he felt like shit. He pried up the floorboards and dug out the pictures. The face that looked out at him was the same one he’d seen in the square. He snapped his eyes shut and swore under his breath. 

He set the photos down at the kitchen table, then sat on the couch with his bottle. Joel sat there for a long time, watching the pictures like they might spring up and force themselves back into his hand. That night, he hardly slept. 

...

Joel knew better than to do business with someone as skittish as Max. This kid had already chewed his fingernails down to the quick and the way his eyes darted around would make anyone suspicious. But he wanted pills so damn bad, he’d give up more ration cards than they were worth. Joel insisted they meet off the street, in an alley buffeted by a fence and brick walls. 

“You’re a lifesaver for this,” Max said. He couldn’t stop fidgeting and it made even Joel nervous. 

“Mhm,” he grumbled. 

Max knew the drill. He was ready with the cards without being asked. 

Joel was about to reach for them when the worst thing that could happen did. 

“What’s going on here?” a gruff voice called down the alley. Fuck. A FEDRA officer in full uniform was marching their way, one hand on his weapon.

Leave it to Max to split. He made a break for it and blew past the officer leaving Joel to face questioning alone. If he’d been cool, Joel could’ve talked their way out of it but now there was no hope of leaving without trouble.

The officer radioed for someone else to go after Max, gave his position and direction, but he kept his eyes on Joel. He was shorter than Joel and under his helmet, he looked young. Probably born just a few years before the outbreak with no options but joining up. The patch on his chest identified him as DIXON.

“Hands on your head,” Dixon instructed when he was finished.

Joel obeyed, a deep frown pulling at his lips. Dixon scanned him and then reached for his radio again.

“I’ve got some ration cards in my pocket. They’re all yours,” Joel offered before he could make a report.

“You trying to bribe me?” the officer asked.

Joel shook his head. “Everybody’s in need these days. Just trying to help out.”

Dixon scoffed. “Trying to help yourself out of a tough spot.”

Joel clenched his jaw. This motherfucker was obviously one of those types that got off on throwing their weight around. Half of the FEDRA soldiers he’d encountered were happy to bend the rules for the right price. The other half only felt big when they reminded others how small they’d become.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Dixon said, sliding his weapon onto his back so his hands were free. The chainlink fence rattled as he pressed Joel against it. Joel kept his eyes forward as hands searched his hips and down his legs. Dixon went into his pocket and Joel heard the crinkle of a plastic bag. “Pills. No wonder.”

He continued his search as Joel cursed himself. Losing that merchandise meant a nice stack of ration cards was about to evaporate into thin air. Not to mention the fact he was now in deep shit with FEDRA.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel heard. The delight in the officer’s voice made him turn his head. Joel’s stomach fell into his feet when he saw what had been found. Dixon held a Polaroid in his hand.

Joel had been toting the pictures around for two weeks, hoping chance might cause him to bump into the woman again. Sometimes he wandered past the building she went into before curfew, hoping to catch her there again. He could have just destroyed them, lit the corner and let them go up in flames, but he wanted to give them back to her so she knew that they weren’t floating around out there. That scumbags like him weren’t jacking it to her picture. That pigs like Dixon weren’t salivating over them like he was right now. 

“This your girl?” he asked. He raised the visor on his helmet to get a better look. “Damn.”

Joel pressed his lips into a line, shame washing over him again. He wondered if he’d had the same dopey grin on his face when he’d first gazed over her body.

“That’s a nice piece of pussy.” 

Joel seethed and squeezed his hand into a fist in hopes that he could ball up all the swiftly building ire right there.

“Y’know,” Dixon began, finally glancing back up to Joel, “if I got a taste of that, I might be inclined to forget about all this. If she’s any good, maybe I’d even let you keep your pills.”

His fist flew before he even knew it. Joel pounced on him, pinning Dixon against the brick and punching him right in the nose. Dixon fought back, clawing and grunting, scratching at Joel’s face. Joel didn’t care. In fact, he welcomed the pain. He wasn’t defending her, the woman he didn’t know. He wasn’t a hero. Joel pummeled the man the way he’d wanted to beat himself. Pervert. Scum. Monster. Blood gushed from Dixon’s nose and teeth were battered loose and it wasn’t long before he stopped defending himself. Joel finally realized he’d knocked him out. He was holding the officer up with his own bodyweight and when he let go, Dixon crumpled.

Joel stood over him, shoulders heaving with his jagged breaths. Dixon gurgled, a mess of swollen crimson. Joel stooped down and picked up the picture with a bloody hand. He turned down the alley and ran like the cockroach he was.

...

Joel leaned in the shadow of a doorway, his eyes fixed across the street. He’d been laying low, staying as far off of FEDRA’s radar as he could, but he’d been restless. A week had passed since he’d beaten the piss out of one of their officers. His knuckles were still red and raw. 

The sun was setting. He’d been out there for nearly four hours now and he’d need to get going soon if he was going to be back before curfew. There as no way he’d risk being out after dark when things were so hot.

He perked up when a figure rounded the corner. They were rushing, clearly fighting the same clock. It was her. Joel could tell from the other end of the block. He’d been resolved to get her pictures back to her but suddenly he felt like turning tail and going home. The urge only confirmed his worst opinions about himself. 

Joel strode across the street as she approached. He placed himself at the foot of the stairs he knew she was headed towards. 

The woman looked at him with nervous eyes. It stung but he couldn’t blame her. Joel was broad and his face always fixed in a scowl. She should be scared. He’d been no friend to her. 

“Do you want something?” she asked, staying a cautious distance away. Her voice wasn’t what he’d imagined. 

Joel pulled the photos out and she took a step back. He moved towards her, holding them out so she could see that he didn’t have anything dangerous. His fist was still swollen and a smear of Dixon’s blood had stained the white frame of the Polaroid.

The woman’s eyes bounced back and forth between his hand and his face. Finally, seeing that he wasn’t going anywhere until she took what he offered, she carefully plucked the pictures up. 

Her eyes went wide and then narrow. She glowered at him. “Where did you get these?” she demanded.

Joel’s mouth was dry. The accusation in her stare cut him deeper than he’d expected. The scabs on his knuckles burned like he’d scraped them against sandpaper. He looked at her for a lengthy moment and then decided that he’d done enough. 

Joel left her there after a grunt.

He walked swiftly, wanting to put as much distance between them as he could. He didn’t feel any better. It felt like failure. He’d already forgotten what she looked like, serpentine and sensuous, replaced by her hurt and admonition. 

Joel had planned on apologizing, but the words hadn’t come. 

...

My love language is words of affirmation so I'd love any comments or rbs. Thanks for reading, you beautiful person.

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puppy reader and Ellie Williams

puppy reader who fucks ellie like she wants her pregnant. puppy reader who slobbers her juices and spit all over ellie's mouth and cunt. puppy reader grinding her sensitive clit on ellie's rock hard breasts....anything to tease Ellie, anything to frustrate ellie..... puppy reader making out with ellies cunt only to pull away when the legs above her tense and twitch.

word count: 3.6k warnings: 18+, no use of y/n, pwp, established relationship, boobies, bottom!ellie, sub!ellie, oral, fingering, ellie’s purple strap makes an entrance, multiple orgasms, ellie baby crying:( summary: ellie has spent years building a wall around herself, trying to make sure no one can ever get close enough to hurt her. one night, everything becomes too much and her walls come crumbling down. luckily, ellie has you to take care of her. or, ellie’s girl takes care of her like she deserves.

When the door opens, you recognise the sounds of Ellies footsteps immediately.

She’s finally back from patrol, and you can’t wait till she sees how nice you tidied up the home while she was gone.

Something catches your attention as she shuffles around in the hallway. Her footsteps seem much heavier than usual, sounds like she’s dragging her feet on the floor. Maybe something happened on patrol, something that tired her out. She probably needs to rest, and what feels better after a long day of hard work then a freshly made bed?

You hear her dropping her bag to the ground, calling out a strained; “I’m home!” If it hadn’t been for her heavy footsteps, the sound of her voice would have been a telltale sign that something wasn’t right. It sounds like she’s close to tears, and your Ellie doesn’t cry. At least not with people around, she doesn’t even cry in front of you.

Putting away the clothes you’d been folding, you’re on your way out of the bedroom and into the narrow hallway. You almost run straight into Ellie when she appears in the doorway with slumped shoulders and her face turned down to the floor. Reaching out for her shoulders, softly shaking them to get her to look up. To look at you.

Ellie’s stubborn, everyone knows that. So she keeps her eyes trained on the floor and says nothing. The room is quiet, and the only sound that can be heard is Ellie’s heavy breathing. The contrast between you is clear, Ellie is still in her clothes from patrol while you’re wearing a clean pair of clothes you changed into this morning. She’s dirty and bruised, and you’re clean.

Your first instinct is to reach for her face and convince her to come with you to the bathroom. Try to bribe her with the promise of a warm bath and cleaning her up. She must be exhausted from patrol, that must be why she seems so off.

It’s not until you move your hands to her cheeks that you notice it. She’s crying.

Feeling her tear stained skin underneath your palms makes your movements stutter. This is completely new territory for you, because Ellie never lets herself cry in front of you.

It’s the way she whimpers your name that gets your attention, brings you back to her. Before you know it, she’s collapsing against you and sobbing loudly. After that, your body moves on autopilot, you get her to the bed and slowly sit down with her on the edge. She’s gripping onto your hand so hard it’s almost painful, but you can’t bother to care about the discomfort. All you can focus on is Ellie.

You just hold her and stroke your hands over her back, letting her get it all out. As her sobbing calms down and she seems to be able to finally breathe, you press a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Wanna talk about it?” Your question has her looking up, into your eyes. Red shot eyes, quivering lips and flushed cheeks. Ellie looks pretty when she cries. “I just…” interrupted by another sob, you hug her tighter into your side.

“Just… saw something on patrol and I just don’t want to lose you.” You don’t press on her what she saw, knowing that patrol gets rough. There’s a growing suspicion inside of you that this isn’t just about whatever happened today. Probably something that’s been building up inside of Ellie for a very, very long time. Way before Joel and Jesse died, maybe even before Riley died all those years in the arcade.

She whispers your name, and you see another tear roll down her cheek. She’s trying to calm herself down, resting one of her hands above her heart. She’s trying to take a deep breath in, but she’s shaky. Eventually, Ellie manages to get out a few more words without breaking once.

“I’m so fucking tired of losing the people I love.” The way she looks into your eyes as she says it makes your heart ache, and you reach out to move a piece of her hair out of her face.

“You’re not going to lose me” is all you can get yourself to say, almost stuttering in your movements as you lean forward and rest your forehead against hers. “What can I do for you?” You whisper it like a plea, searching for an answer in her eyes.

“Kiss me. Please…”

Ellie’s lips are chapped, but that doesn’t matter to you. It never has. It doesn’t matter because it’s overshadowed by how it feels inside of you when her lips meet yours. The way warmth spreads through your chest, the way your heart just becomes full off her.

The kiss is short lived, just giving her a small peck to comfort her. To show that you’re here, really here, with her. The way Ellie chases your lips as you lean back takes you back by surprise, not realising she wanted more. Sitting still, your eyes still on her lips and not moving your eyes until you hear her voice again.

“More…”

And it’s enough to have you press your lips onto hers once again, bringing up your hands to hold her face in your palms.

You can’t bring yourself to care that Ellie is making the newly changed sheets all dirty with her outdoor clothes. It doesn’t really matter anyways, they can always be washed again.

The only thing that matters right now is your girl, laying underneath you. She’s breathing heavily, and under different circumstances you might have teased her for it. Getting so worked up just ‘cause you’re kissing. This isn’t the time for any teasing though, because she’s laying in front of you completely vulnerable. Just waiting for you to touch her, so she can feel you. Feel that you’re here, that you’re not going anywhere.

Standing up at the edge of the bed, beckoning for Ellie to sit upwards with your fingers. Without even questioning what you want, she does it. You can see the want in her eyes as she looks at you, but there’s also something else there. Trust. Ellie trusts you to take care of her right now, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t make sure to take care of her right now?

“Take your shirt off, let me see you.” The words make it sound like a demand, but the softness of your voice lets Ellie know it isn’t an order in any way. It’s more of a plea, a plea for her to let you see her.

The dirty sweater is thrown on the floor somewhere, and the sight of her topless makes you breathless. When Ellie sees the desire look in your eyes, the way you lick your lips as you lean forward to leave kisses all over her chest, it’s enough to make her eyes roll back.

It’s healing. The way you look at her, that is. Not just the way you’re looking at her at times like this, when she’s getting her clothes off of her for you, but at other times too. It’s hard to for Ellie to put her finger on, but you just always look at her so lovingly.

When you take her hardened nipple in your mouth, Ellie’s thought are interrupted by her own moan. You’re messy, using your tongue and getting your spit all over her tit. Using one of your hands to play with the neglected nipple, and Ellie’s breathy moans in the background sounds like music to your ears.

It’s not until Ellie attempts to grind down on the knee you’ve slotted in between her legs that you pull away. She’s quick to sit up, leaning on her elbows. You see the way she scrunches her eyebrows and her lips form a small pout, she’s clearly frustrated- frustrated that you pulled away

“Why’d you stop?”

“Shhh… just relax, let me take care of you…” Fumbling with the zipper on her jeans while Ellie tries her best to help you pull them down. It’s not easy getting the material off her legs, and you struggle for a good minute before finally managing to remove them. Dropping her pants on the floor behind you, you shift your focus to the only piece of clothing Ellie has left on her body.

The cotton panties she’s wearing are black and plain, Ellie shudders as she sees the way your eyes are stuck on her lower body and how you lick your lips. You make her scoot up so there’s more room for you on the bed, and you leave a trail of kisses as you descend down. Starting off by rubbing two fingers on the outside of her panties, making her wetter. All Ellie can do is let out a pleased sigh, dragging her hand over her face.

Her cheeks are flushed from desire, and when you start pulling down her panties Ellie turns giddy for what’s to come.

There’s nothing she loves more than having you between her thighs, she knows you can stay there for hours and you’re always so good at making her feel good. This is exactly what she needs right now, something to distract her from that fucking… that thing that happened during patrol and for her to feel you close. To have you close, feel your skin on hers, hear your praises in her ear. This is exactly what Ellie needs.

Slowly slipping a finger inside of her, you let out a moan at how wet she is.

“This all for me?”

“Yea- yeah, just for you. Always just for you” Ellie’s breathless from the way you’re using your finger inside of her, and she knows it won’t be long till you slip another finger inside of her. She’s probably already wet enough, but you always make sure to drag it out. Work her up until she can’t handle it anymore, till she’s pleading for you to just give her one more finger.

“Please?” You don’t know if it’s the way Ellie asks so nicely, or the way she’s whispering your name, but you give in. Pulling your finger out, only to slip two in instead, it’s now Ellie’s time to moan out loud.

You have been together with her long enough to know her body, know what she likes and know what gets her off. The way you slowly move your fingers inside of her, the way you press your palm against the front of her crotch and the way your palm keeps on grazing her clit.

The room is quiet except for the sound of you fingering her, and it’s filthy. There’s a thin layer of sweat on her body, and she feels like she’s absolutely soaking the sheets. She’s just about to start begging, begging you to speed up your pace and get her where she needs to be, but you’re slipping out your fingers and pressing your mouth against her pussy.

It’s even filthier than the sounds from a few seconds ago, the way you use your tongue on her. You’re basically making out with her folds, pressing your nose against her bundle of nerves.

Ellie’s grabbing your hair now, pushing your face further into her. Normally you’d pull away, scold her for being too eager and kindly remind her who’s actually in charge, but this time you allow her to use you. She’s trying to move her hips upwards, grinding against your face.

You’re using your tongue to fuck her, and Ellie’s using you like her own personal toy. You would rather die before you’d ever admit how wet she’s making you, how badly you want to slip your own hand inside your pants and get some relief. Ellie’s eagerness, the way she’s just using you, is almost enough to make you cum in your own pants. Your girlfriend is fucking hot.

You slip your hands underneath her ass, using your grip to push her even closer to your mouth. Making out with her cunt, the slick of her having spread all over your chin at this point.

When you hear Ellie babbling, you take it as a signal to slip one of your arms away from underneath her and move your hand to her thigh.

Slowly moving upwards and moving your lips to her clit, slipping two fingers inside of her with ease and sucking on her swollen clit.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You can’t see it, but Ellie is curling her toes, she’s so, so close. Just a little bit more. Her back is arching up from the bed, and she’s practically chanting your name. “Right there, oh, I’m so close” her words only spur you on, make you move your fingers faster. Pressing them up against the spongey spot inside of her, she lets out one last cry of your name before she comes undone.

Slowly pulling away, leaving kisses on her upper thighs as Ellie tries to catch her breath. You force yourself away from her skin, sitting up in between her legs. Ellie’s spent, but the way you run your thumb over your lips and bring your tongue out to lick it off has her clenching around nothing.

“Ready for some more?”

She only gives you a shy smile in response, and reaches her arms towards you as you move on top of her. Grabbing your hips and waiting for you to unbutton your pants and pull your underwear down so she can have you sit on her face, Ellie becomes shocked when you just shake your head and let out a tsk-sound.

“Not that” is all you say before you lean over her and reach your hand to pull at the drawer in the nightstand next to you. With a confused look on her face, Ellie can’t help but ask. “But you haven’t- I mean, I wanna make you feel good too…”

Just giving her a small smirk at her words, before you pull out the toy that’s been laying hidden in the drawer. Sitting up on your knees and pulling your pants down hastily before opening the buttons on your blouse, throwing the clothes somewhere on the floor along with Ellie’s disregarded clothes from earlier.

Reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, your girlfriend lets out a sound from underneath you. She’s trying to sit up so she can wrap her lips around your nipples, hard from the cold air and the lust pumping through your veins.

All you do is softly push her shoulders so she lays back, and Ellie is way too putty in your hands to try to fight back. Instead, she waits patiently as you get the purple strap on.

Your soft hands grab her ankles and you move her legs so you’re laying in a mating position. Ellie can feel the cold plastic against her folds, and she’s just waiting for you to give her what she wants. What she needs. She doesn’t expect you to suddenly move one of your hands to her face, and stroke your thumb over her cheek.

“You know I’m not going away anytime soon, right?” It warms her heart, the combination of your body against her and the soft spoken words is enough to comfort the part of her that’s still upset about what she and Jesse saw earlier.

“Yeah, I know.” Ellie’s hand now reaches for your cheek, looking into your eyes with a soft expression. “Just need to be reminded sometimes.”

You press a quick kiss to her lips before you lean back and grasp the head of the purple dildo, guiding to her entrance.

“Okay, I’ll keep reminding you then. That I’m your girl and I ain’t going nowhere.”

When you push inside of her, Ellie’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She can’t bring herself to care that she hasn’t made you cum, can’t bring herself to care if she’s being selfish. Not when you’re filling her up like this, when you’re leaving kisses all over her neck.

“You okay?” It’s whispered against her neck, you’re now completely still, letting her get used to the toy inside of her. She was already stretched out from your fingers, and wet enough to avoid discomfort. All she does is nods enthusiastically, moving her legs around your hips.

“Yes, just- just fuck me. Please”

It’s all you need, pulling out until nothing but the tip is left inside of her and slamming back in. Working up a quick pace, trying to alternate between thrusting into her and grinding against her, giving her clit some more stimulation.

The room fills with Ellie’s moans once again, but she’s not the only source of the filthy sounds now. As you move your hips against her, the toy pushes back on your clit. Feeling it graze against you over and over as Ellie drags her nails down your back makes you feel so fucking good. You try to tell her, but the pleasure makes it all come out in a broken sentence.

“Oh, you feel so-“ interrupting yourself by moaning, you close your eyes hard and try once again, “so fucking good, love having you like this, filled with my cock.” Ellie just lets out a high pitched moan at your words, and she can’t get herself to feel embarrassed. Not when you're pushing the purple strap on into her over and over again, not when you’re so pussydrunk on top of her.

“You look so good, Ellie, I just wanna do this… do this forever” you’re breathless, and she can feel her high approaching again. All she needs is a little something to get her there. As if you can read her thoughts, you use the hand that you had used to hold her face in your palm earlier and start rubbing on her clit.

She comes with a cry off your name, and you wish you could actually feel the way she spasmed around the toy. Instead, you content yourself with looking at her face when she orgasms. The way Ellie scrunches up her brows, and how her pretty lips shape an ‘o’ in a silent scream. You thrust into her as she comes down from it, and don’t stop until she pushes against your shoulder to let you know she’s too sensitive.

Pulling out and removing the straps from around your hips, you slowly get out of bed and reach for one of the clothing items thrown on the floor. Quickly buttoning your blouse, you head towards the bathroom. Ellie wants to ask you to stay with her, but she’s too exhausted to form a sentence. Her brain feels like mush, and all she can think about is how sticky the inside of her thighs still feel. It makes her think about how you looked like licking her juices off your lips, and she clenches against nothing once again.

Strutting out of the bathroom, a small towel in hand. You’re wiping her legs clean, and stroking over the side of her stomach with your hand. The atmosphere feels different now, and the air feels lighter. Ellie can actually properly breathe, unlike when she first fell into your embrace when she got home.

“Wanna talk about it?”

There’s a beat of silence, because she’s unsure. Doesn’t know if she wants to talk about it, doesn’t know if she can. Looking into your eyes and meeting the look of love, concern in them is enough to give her the courage to speak up.

“There was this… tree. And someone had carved in two names, and added ‘was here’ underneath them.” She takes a deep breath once again, and you reach for her hand to squeeze it. Remind her you’re still right here, right here with her.

“A little bit further down we found the remains of some cordycep, it had been… shot or something. I think it was a little girl.”

You’re quiet, waiting for her to tell you the entire story. She’s breathing slowly, and you can tell by the way her hands start trembling. Reaching for the cover,

“There was a man there, he was dead too. The gun was in his hand.” She gulps, and squeezes your hand hard. Even though her strength is enough to make it hurt a little bit, you don’t pull away. You stay perfectly still and wait patiently. Let her take a deep breath once again, let her try to calm down before speaking up once again.

“Think it was their names on the tree, and it just reminded me…” Even if Ellie had left it at that, you think you know what she’s getting at, who the supposed daughter and father pair reminded her off. “Well, me and Joel. They made me think about me and Joel.”

She looks into your eyes, her own filled with tears. She sits up and pulls you against her. Ellie’s being vulnerable with you, outside of sex, and it’s rare. She’s letting her walls fall down, right here in front of you. This doesn’t usually happen, it probably hasn’t ever happened before at all. But it’s like you already know what to do. Moving on autopilot, you just wrap your arms around her and let her pour her heart out.

She mumbles the last part against the skin of your neck, and then she leans back to give you a small peck. “Everyone’s gone, except you. And I can’t lose you. Ever.”

“Oh, Ellie.” She just leans against you, pulling the cover around the two of you. She doesn’t expect you to say anything more, not until you open your mouth again. “I’m not going anywhere, ever.”

With just a quiet whisper, you manage to make her entire being warm. The black hole inside of her heart is slowly becoming smaller and smaller, and it’s all thanks to you.

update: requests are closed for tonight!! y’all!! i’m having a smut night, send in a bunch of smut blurbs and i’ll answer them when i’ve finished watching fight club

AINT NO WAY @abbygf GOT DEACTIVATED CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP FIND REBLOGS IM CRYINGG (especially of the stepmom sevika p1 and 2 😭🙏 - i got it guys :DDD)

these are the ones i've found so far

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NO LOVE ALLOWED - Part 1 (Sevika x f!reader)

SUMMARY: Yet another story where reader is a sex worker and Sevika is her client. Y’all know the drill. This will be divided in multiple par

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NO LOVE ALLOWED - Part 2 (Sevika x f!reader)

Check out part 1 before reading <33 WARNING: obsessive + possessive behavior, smut “Where were you? You’re late” When you walked in, Sevi

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sevikasangel

please, one chance...🥺 fuck, this was too good. i will never recover.

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Sevika Reader Collective

STEPMOM SEVIKA PT2 (x fem reader) Click here to read pt1 first if you haven’t WARNING: Size kink, age gap, overstimulation A week after

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Sevika Reader Collective

STEPMOM SEVIKA (x fem reader) WARNING: Dub-con, size difference, age difference. This isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you don’t like it

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LIPS LIKE SUGAR (ft. Sevika, Vi, Caitlyn x reader)

Summary: My Arcane crushes being regulars at the Gardens, aka Zaun’s brothel and developing little romantic crushes on reader <3 Sevika was

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Secret lover

SUMMARY: Reader is unhappily married… fortunately Vi and Sevika are here to make her feel better ;) WARNING: cheating, smut This has been

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Thief!Vi x Bimbo!reader

Warning: dub-con, choking, smut Enjoy @caitsvi ⋅₊˚‪♡‬ You should’ve known that asking a stranger for directions in a dark alley of the und

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chronic loneliness

Imagine being locked up in Stillwater and Vi being your cellmate. Somehow she managed to behave well for a few weeks and the...

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SMASH abby

SMASH ellie SMASH tess SMASH MARIA SMASH DINA SMASH nora MARRY: mel is pregnant (she so pretty🥹) SMASH marlene fine ass yes i am down

omg y'all i recently watched a play through of tlou2 and fell in love with abby now this is making me think of all the content i missed time to cry again-

You Make Loving Fun

[As Long as You Follow] [People Still Listen to Fleetwood Mac in the Apocalypse]

Warnings: +18, MDNI, smut, oral sex, unprotected PIV. References to sexual violence (predates this fic). Age gap (Joel is 62, OC is in her mid-forties), post-outbreak! Joel, who is soft AF and loves his wife.

Words: 9,178

Summary: “Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” she murmured. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and when he did he could almost feel her worries dissipating with his smile, replaced by a soft purr of contentment that resonated through him. Sunlight sculpted soft shadows across her face, bathing her skin in a honeyed glow and tangling in her hair as it splayed across her pillow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” As her breath hitched in a soft sigh, he stretched himself long just so he could nip at the crook of her neck. He loved the way her body responded to him, how she coiled into him like a vine seeking the sun; loved the way her eyes fluttered closed at his touch, her head tilted back in invitation. “Was just warmin’ you up.”

Previous Works:

For Your Love

Forever

This fic contains (non-explicit) art made specifically for this story - enjoy!

Hi, all. Once again, I am just posting some of my spicier scenes from As Long as You Follow to Tumblr - though, again, I don't think you necessarily need to read the entire fic to understand the context, if you're just here for the smut. I may open myself up for requests in a bit, as I wrap up that story as a whole - because while I enjoy writing scenes like this, it's also a challenge, and I think I need to encourage myself to practice a little more. Enjoy!

It was an incredibly strange experience to wake up in Galveston.

It almost reminded her of Jackson; of those dreamy, early days where Joel was still a new presence next to her in bed. Sunlight speared through her eyelids, the room swirling into focus when she opened her eyes and blinked against the brightness. Disorienting, just like then, this strange mix of unfamiliar comfort and the absence of threat, a voice in the back of her head reminding her through her confusion that there was no need for the urgency that pulsed through her, even when her hand instinctively slid under her pillow, fingers searching for the handle of her sheathed knife – her father's knife.

(She'd kept a knife under her pillow in those early days, too, unconvinced this newfound happiness was real, this fluke of finding a place in the world where she could fall asleep and be guaranteed to wake in the morning – no bombs, no overreaching government, no creepy neighbors lurking on the fire escape outside. And Joel had found it, once, when they were in a compromising position, his hand sliding under her pillow when he’d tried to brace himself and slipped. She still remembered his confused frown when he held up that pocketknife, the way his expression quickly shifted to an infuriating sort of pity – but she also remembered the way he calmly set it on the nightstand, the way he held her face in his hands and told her, ‘Nobody’s gonna hurt you, here,’ the way he then kissed her – the way she thought she might actually believe him.)

She’d spent so much of her life primed for danger that her body had twisted itself into a coiled spring, wound so tight that there were days where she thought she might shatter from the pressure of it. Even within this clean and bright and safe apartment she couldn’t quite relax, a nervous sort of energy always humming beneath her skin. There was a routine that she forced herself to follow, something that made everything a little less overwhelming: she’d allow the first tendrils of dawn to pull her from sleep, and before full consciousness had even fully arrived her hand would slide under her pillow, searching blindly for the cool heft of the blade’s wooden and steel handle. Twenty breaths, each one counted in her head, would anchor her to the bed, and only then would she let go of the knife and instead seek out her husband.

This part, at least, was easy. She usually woke before him, close enough to reach out a hand and touch him, to feel the steady rhythm of his breath. The sheets rustled as she stretched, and with a slow deliberateness she’d roll toward him, her body a question mark curled against his back, her arms struggling to fully envelop him. She’d nuzzle her face into his neck, whisper his name, feel his rumble of sleepy protest against her own skin – and he’d try, bless him, to maintain the facade of slumber, but he was always given away by the twitch of his mouth. The act never held; this was, after all, his favorite type of alarm clock. Still, he was difficult to fully rouse – so she’d bite him instead, a playful nip, a quick pinch of her teeth on his neck, his shoulder, anywhere that elicited a reaction – and that always jolted him awake and wide-eyed.

“You’re a menace,” was quickly becoming a familiar morning greeting, grogginess still clinging to the edges of his words, and so was her response:

“You love it, though.”

And she knew he did, the hand he reached back to squeeze at her thigh so gentle and full of affection. Often they’d just stay there a little bit longer, cocooned together beneath the sun-drenched sheets, a temporary reprieve from the soundtrack of life creeping in: the ocean below them, the hum of the fan above them, Ellie’s voice (always a touch too enthusiastic for such an early hour) slicing through the apartment as she chatted with someone (usually Perry). And maybe it was too often that this bittersweet pang would unfold in her chest, this craving for these little moments to be more constant – because it had taken a lifetime, or at least what felt like one, to find this sort of contentment, this love that had bloomed defiantly like a wildflower in the cracks of the pavement – and even now that she had it, and the room to enjoy it, she could feel that spring tightening again, threatening to snap her in half.

There was a part of him that didn’t mind these quiet evenings, when they happened. Much like his walks with Ellie, it was nice to spend some time alone with Benny – no interruptions, a chance to connect, to eat dinner together and sometimes share in a small amount of wine, to walk together around the block or watch the sky turn colors over the ocean, to curl up on the couch together and watch a movie. It was so close to feeling like home; her comforting weight pressed against his shoulder and chest, warm and welcoming; the way she sometimes dozed off before the movie even finished, and he just let her sleep because he liked the feeling of her leaning against him, his arm around her shoulders, her heart beating a steady rhythm against his ribs.

Sometimes these evenings were a little different. Sometimes wine flowed a little more generously (for her) while familiar music played from Alexei’s CD player. He danced with her now whenever she asked him to, without protest, because he didn’t have it left in him to ever again deny her anything that he had the power to give. She was at her happiest when he twirled her slowly around the living room, and there was something nostalgic about these steps – something familiar that pulsed under his skin when she laughed as he lifted her arm and carefully spun her, something so free about how she always danced barefoot, her hair swaying back and forth against her back, something special about the way she always kissed him first, because even when he led their steps, she led everything else –

– something exciting about the afternoon where Ellie left a little earlier than usual, sunlight still spearing through the tall living room windows while Lindsey Buckingham crooned through the stereo speakers and Benny twirled through the motes of dust lazily, a glass of wine in one hand, her hair glittering in the light. She and Ellie had gone to the beach earlier in the day when he’d been occupied with fixing the balcony door, and she’d donned another donated dress for the occasion; a cascade of white with splashes of emerald leaves and blossoms, the skirt loose and flowing, and when she danced, a bittersweet thought struck Joel: that this was probably the closest he would ever get to seeing her in anything that even remotely resembled a wedding gown.

(Art by @ayeleye.)

Sunburn kissed her shoulders with a rosy glow, a blush mirroring the flush on her cheeks, and when she beckoned for him to join her, curling two fingers in and out as she swayed, he did so with no hesitation, drawn to her like a moth to a flame – though he took her hand, first, spun her around slowly, and then wrapped her up against him from behind, all the better to trail his lips down her neck and over her shoulder, leaving fleeting white marks against her heated and red skin.

(Art by @miranhas-art.)

And there was just something about this that felt different even when it was achingly familiar; there was a rawness to it, an uninhibited surrender in the way she tilted her head back with a longing sigh, finding rest against his shoulder, the way she tipped the wine to her lips and drank long sips, then held it up so he could do the same.

“Better catch up, cowboy,” she teased him, and it was as though something inside of him snapped. The wine was so sweet against his lips, but it was nothing compared to her skin. He drained the glass in a single, impatient gulp, then plucked it from her fingers and set it on the desk behind him without even looking, his focus only on her. Everything happened in flashes; she was arching against him as his fingers tugged at her skirt, drawing the fabric over her thighs – she was facing him, kissing him, her hands threading through his hair – the world tilted, he was falling, and she was beneath him on the couch – she tasted like wine and smelled like the ocean and she was so soft against his edges, so loose and limber, so eager for every bit of his touch, moaning into his mouth when his hand slid under her dress and edged itself between her legs –

It ended, because of course it did, the moment shattering like glass – because there was a thump in the hallway that sounded suspiciously like a heavy, booted step, and a key scraped in the front door’s lock. A desperate scramble ensued, a mad dash to right themselves, to untangle their limbs. Benny hastily pulled down her skirt and Joel fumbled with his belt buckle – and thankfully it wasn’t Ellie that walked through the door, but it was a short-lived sort of relief, because Amos and Alexei both stopped dead in their tracks when they caught sight of the pair. To be fair, Joel knew they weren’t fooling anyone, even with the distance they’d hastily put between themselves. There was a flush creeping up the back of his neck; he had to assume his face was as red as Benny’s, her breath ragged and flustered as she attempted to comb her fingers through her mussed hair.

For just a moment, there was silence. And then Amos’ voice boomed through the apartment: “On the couch?” he demanded, at the same time Alexei jabbed an accusing finger and scorned, “You heathens!”

Benny snatched an oversized throw pillow and pulled it into her lap before folding over it, burying her face in the fabric as a strangled groan escaped her throat. Joel, his cheeks burning, scrubbed a hand across his face, massaging his skin roughly while wishing that the roaring pulse of blood pounding in his ears would drown out their mocking voices.

“ – and in front of the cat?”

“Absolute monsters –”

Perry didn’t seem all that offended, currently curled up in his usual place atop the other end of the couch, where the backing cushion sported a permanent divot on top because it was his preferred sunning spot. Alexei gathered the feline up in his arms anyway, shaking his head one final time before he carried him out of the room and down the hallway, mumbling something that Joel didn’t quite catch, while Amos lingered for a beat, staring them down with a glare that threatened to crack into a bristly grin. “I’m not mad,” he said finally, backing away slowly, “I’m just disappointed –” And then he had to duck when Benny groaned again and threw the pillow at his head, his barking laughter echoing down the hallway.

“Oh my god.” Benny stood up the moment he was gone, shaking her hands out in front of her chest. “I’m…going to hide in our room. And maybe throw myself off of the balcony. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

She disappeared, skirt swishing around the corner, leaving him alone and embarrassed and frustrated on the living room couch. Joel gulped in a few deep breaths, willing his thunderous heart and traitorous body to cooperate with one another, to allow him to stand up, and when he finally did he found that he couldn’t make himself follow her; there was no appeal to walk down that same hallway, to risk running into those two infuriating men again. He busied himself with pointless tasks, instead, because at least when his hands were occupied he didn’t have to really think about what just happened (and what didn’t happen, wasn’t currently happening). He snagged the wine glass from the desk, picked up the pillow from the floor and tossed it onto the couch (though if the patio door had been open, it would have been tempting to just throw it off the balcony as petty revenge) and silenced the radio right before Stevie Nicks could begin to explain to him that she had never been a blue, calm sea (and boy, could Joel relate).

He was breathing a little easier by the time the glass was rinsed and wiped dry, and deposited into the wire rack, but still he sighed, leaning over the edge of the counter with his shoulders hunched and wondering why, when they were barely ever there, practically ghosts in their own home, both Alexei and Amos had to pick that moment to walk through the door –

He heard scuffling coming from the hallway; sounds of laughter that sent a fresh wave of irritation crashing over him. He decided not to be there when they eventually emerged; with a determined stride he slipped down the hallway and past their bedroom door, and to his own, which was thankfully unlocked. He’d just managed to close the door behind him when he heard them again, their voices mixing together and echoing against the walls as they called out, feet thumping down the hallway.

“ – won’t be back for a while – enjoy your privacy – ”

“ – goddamn house is full of deviants –”

The front door slammed a thunderous goodbye, as though making a point. “Christ,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, because the bedroom was otherwise empty. Benny’s shawl was draped over the corner of the dresser. He ran his hand over some of the hanging tassels as he walked past it, immediately knew that his hand now smelled like lilac without even having to check, and that alone was enough to return a small smile to his face as he leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms folded across his chest. Benny met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, head tilted to the side as her fingers combed through the last few tangles in her hair, a touch of lingering fluster coloring her cheeks along with her sunburn.

“One time,” she sighed, “in high school, I got caught in the back of Owen Grant’s car by my dad, of all people, and I thought I might actually die of embarrassment. This…” She bit her lip, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. “Yeah. This was worse, somehow, and I was fully-clothed this time.”

Joel mulled this over, chewing on his tongue thoughtfully. “Owen Grant, huh?”

She rolled her eyes at him in the mirror. “Don’t start.” But she was still smiling at him while her fingers danced through her curls, teasing out the knots. “Sorry,” she said finally, her voice softer. “Those two…kind of ruined a moment, didn’t they?”

“S’alright. Hard to be mad at ‘em. Prolly not the most polite thing we coulda been doin’ on their couch." Her snort of laughter was a welcome sound that he was pleased to have teased out of her. “Doesn’t…gotta be ruined, though.”

She didn’t reply for what felt like a long time, her gaze dipping down to her hands and the strands of gold weaving silently between her knuckles. He steeled himself, accepting the quiet – because he had no other choice. Because he wasn’t allowed to be the one to push anymore; couldn’t be, a privilege that was stripped away from him the day she went on patrol to the dam and then didn’t come back to him. And that was…difficult to contend with at the best of times, but especially now, when he’d just gotten a taste of everything he’d ever wanted from her – the searing pressure of her skin against his, those intoxicating sounds he’d drawn from her lips – and all he could think about was how much he wanted more of it, how lucky he would be get another chance at it.

“Maybe not,” she said finally, and a shiver ran down his spine. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the way she said them; her gaze, reflected back at him, crackled with an intensity that he couldn’t quite decipher. Yet when she again beckoned to him with two fingers he immediately went to her, body moving automatically to sweep her up from behind, arms wrapped tightly around her as he pressed the side of his face against hers. He watched as her hand began a slow exploration, sliding up his arm – and he closed his eyes when her fingertips drifted across his nose, skimming delicately across his healing scars. They still itched, sometimes, and pulled uncomfortably at the edges of his skin, especially after he’d been in the sun. He usually tried not to think about them, avoided looking at them in the mirror, needing no daily reminders of Waco when his dreams were already so haunted by it.

He countered the rising dread settling in his gut by tipping his head to the side, burying his nose against her hair and inhaling deeply. A wave of scents washed over him; the sharpness of her lilac soap, the brine of salt from the ocean, sweat and something else, a deeper note that resonated purely as Benny filled his nostrils, comforting enough that he tightened his hold on her almost subconsciously. “Got the place to ourselves again,” he mumbled against the strands, and he felt her shift against him, the press of her warmth more pronounced.

“Do we?”

“We do.” He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze in the mirror. It was a gamble, but his fingers dipped down, skimming against her thighs. He brushed his fingers against the softness of her dress, then gathered some of the material between his fingers. “Like you in this dress.” His voice rumbled from his chest, hips pressing against her through the flimsy fabric. His fingers continued to tug at the floral print, teasing the hemline up her thighs, fingertips dragging along her pale skin. “Don’t think I told you that, yet. Looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” she breathed, pushing her hips insistently against his and rolling her shoulders against his chest, the movement sending a delicious jolt through him. Her head tilted to the side, and there was something playful in her expression, a challenge he was eager to meet. He bared his teeth, making her giggle, and snagged the strap of her dress in his mouth.

"Mmhmm," he affirmed, his voice a little smothered by the fabric. With a slow, almost reluctant release, he let the strap drift down her arm like a fallen petal. He dipped his head, seeking the sweet haven of her neck, the delicate curve that led to her shoulder. Every word he murmured was a brand – gentle at first, then a touch sharper, each one punctuated a tender graze of teeth as she arched against him. Her neck erupted in goosebumps, each whisper of pressure against her skin eliciting a soft, sweet gasp from her throat. "I do. Like you even better out of it, though."

“Oh my goooooddd...” The laughter that bubbled up from her lungs was pure enchantment, filling him with warmth – and he knew it was ridiculous, this cheesy line, a relic from simpler times, but he also knew it was the key to unlocking her laughter. He wanted to hear her laughter vibrate against him – needed that; needed her loose and pliant and unguarded and happy, full of giggles and rolling her eyes at his absurdity, just like those early days when the scent of her in his sheets was still a novelty and he’d say just about anything to her as long as those beautiful lips would spread themselves into a smile for him.

‘Gonna have to find myself a new heart’ he told her once, not long after she’d officially moved in. He could still picture her stretched out along the bed, draped in one of his shirts and nothing else, giving him a rather skeptical look as she asked him ‘Why?’ ‘Cause,’ he answered, as though it should have been obvious, ‘you stole mine,’ and she laughed with such conviction, doubling over with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, and he’d grinned and thought to himself that Will Livingston himself couldn't have done better.

There had been something almost frantic about their sex in those days; a whirlwind of frenzied discovery, a need to taste and feel and enjoy and fuck, delicous in its urgency, exciting. It changed, of course, because time was a skilled sculptor, reshaping their connection until familiarity and love birthed a slower dance – something a little more relaxed, more deliberate, something to take their time with, laughter mingling between moans. He missed that; craved that, the ease that had once graced their intimacy. She tried, in the years since the dam – she tried so hard, a warrior fighting against the tide of their shifting dynamic, but they’d never truly managed to capture the spark of what had first caused them to ignite.

And perhaps it was just wishful thinking on his part, but something just felt different now, in this very moment; that they might be different, changed by everything that had happened to them since they left Jackson. He was willing to take the chance, anyway.

“Sweetness...” He waited for her laughter to subside, her dress settling back down her legs with a sigh. His hands, large and firm, climbed her frail arms instead, and despite her smile he felt the shiver that cascaded down her back. She reassembled her composure while he watched, and when she met his eyes again in the mirror he leaned down, a single soft kiss brushing the crown of her head. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper against her ear. “I want you.” He tightened his hold on her, a possessive need echoing in his voice. “Need you, darlin’. Can I…?”

And immediately, her expression shifted into the one that always tied him in knots – because he couldn’t stand it; couldn’t stand the surprise on her face, the way her eyes widened whenever he openly pined for her, the silent query: Who – me? Really? As if she wasn’t beautiful and strong and fierce and desirable and too good for him all wrapped up in one smartass package that left him perpetually yearning for more. As if he hadn’t spent his first year in Jackson resigned to always being alone late at night, convinced that chapter of his life was closed, a casualty of age and circumstance, and being fine with that until she so suddenly exploded into existence and changed everything – until she turned all the parts in his life that were still monochrome into technicolor, filling his house with flowers and music and his heart so full of affection that sometimes he was astonished there was still enough room for it beneath his ribs.

“I…” For a moment she just stood there, swaying slightly against him, a little stunned. But her voice, when it finally arrived again in her throat, was clear: “I want you.”

Something broke, that just moments before had been so solid – a tension that had been building inside of Joel, fighting against his need for patience, a little voice in the back of his head that was telling him over and over again ‘don’t fuck this up’ that shattered into a million pieces the second he saw longing in her eyes. It was as though all rational thought was gone and he was left to move only on instinct, colliding with her, fingers and lips searching out every part of her skin, desperate to devour her, filled with the need to touch and feel and taste and press and god, was it ever amazing when she kissed him back, when she spun around just to throw her arms around his neck and practically jump on him, when she pulled him to the sink and forced his hands to her hips, urging him to lift her up on its polished surface amongst all of their bathroom clutter.

With every move she was fluid, precise, her body responding to his every touch with an electric hunger. He stepped between her legs and she instinctively hiked up the hem of her dress, the fabric gathering and bunching down either side of her thighs. He kissed her as her fingers began that familiar fumbling dance at his belt buckle – but it was a sure hand that stopped her, gently clasping her wrists and tugging her away even as she groaned in annoyance.

“Not yet,” he told her, and he reclaimed her lips with his own, silencing any potential protest. And it worked; her resistance melted against him, her hands raising just so they could tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Their bodies swayed in sync, her hips reflexively pressed against his while his hands traced along the contours of her thighs, pausing only briefly at the raised ridge of her scar – just long enough to squeeze it with far more gentleness than he’d shown any other part of her, drawing a small whine from her throat. He chuckled, and in one smooth movement he slithered his fingers along the waistband of her simple, violet-colored panties, coaxing them down her hips one small tug at a time – and she understood, lifting her hips in silent consent and crossing her ankles together in front of him, nudging him away just long enough for him to shimmy the fabric down her legs and toss them to the tiled floor.

“Don’t need these,” he said simply, settling back between her legs. She let out a soft, eager whimper, hinging her knees around his waist, urging him closer and whispering something against his bad ear that he didn’t quite catch, but seemed to be fervent agreement. His fingers found her already slick and inviting when he slipped a hand between her thighs – and she moaned into his mouth when he kissed her again, tracing circles against her already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Don’t wanna just touch you,” he murmured, and he felt her shudder against him, felt her heels dig into his back, “wanna taste you – can I? God, darlin’, please –” and he heard her whisper against his lips, yes – yes –

He almost couldn’t believe his luck; her eagerness, her lack of hesitation, and so it was with a sudden burst of energy that his hand momentarily abandoned the tender haven between her legs, her gasp of surprise nearly drowned out amidst the clatter of various items tumbling to the floor – their toothbrushes, the soap dish that held his scentless soap, his razor. He didn’t care, hooking his arms under her knees and dragging her forward as he hunched over, his awareness of his surroundings narrowing to the urgent need to taste her, diving between her thighs with unrestrained hunger.

His tongue traced a reckless path, trailing a wide and sloppy stripe through her folds, senses ablaze with her essence, that same little voice in the back of his head urging him on, telling him more. The confines of his jeans suddenly suffocating, constrictive against his arousal; he worked at his belt with one fumbling hand even as he savored every nuance of flavor on his tongue – the saltiness of it, the sweet tang that he hadn’t tasted in years, igniting something so primal it eclipsed even the need for air in his lungs –

“Oh my god –” She let out a sharp cry that echoed against the tiles, her fingers winding through his hair with a grip that bordered on painful (and he savored in that, too). He tightened his hand around her thigh, increasing the pressure of his tongue, and she moaned his name like a prayer, her hips grinding against him desperately. “Joel –”

“You want me to stop?” He withdrew only for as long as it took him to mumble the words and then bite lightly at the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, his mustache tickling her skin. She yelped, then shrieked with laughter when he did it again, tugging at his hair hard enough to finally make him wince.

“Don’t you dare –”

With a low groan of relief, he finally managed to free himself from the constraints of his jeans, all the better to wrap both arms around her legs and draw her flush against his mouth – and it didn’t take long for those breathy whimpers to evolve into full-throated moans, for the rocking of her hips to become complimentary to his own rhythm. He buried his nose in her soft curls, tongue swirling, delving deeper – and it’s goddamn magic, he thinks, her stomach so taut with strain as one of his hands drifted from her thigh to edge across her navel, the arch of her abdomen rippling beneath his fingertips; how needy the movement is when she grabbed his fingers and pulled them up, squeezing them tight against her chest, seeking the friction of his calloused skin against the delicate fabric covering her breasts.

Her writhing form became his muse, inspiring each stroke of his tongue, each press of his fingers against her gleaming flesh. And she responded so instinctively, as though they’d never been out of practice, shaping herself to fit his touch like clay to his sculpting hands – and all he could think about was how much he loved this, the way she squirmed under his tongue, his hands, using her body freely with him, so brazen as she chased her own satisfaction –

– and she found it quickly, her climax hitting her hard and fast, her thighs clenched around his ears, her moans sharp, head thrown back with the crown of her hair pressed against the mirror. Undeterred, he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down until she began tugging on his hair in a different way; as a warning, her heel knocking against his shoulder as she struggled to get out the words, “Joel – fuck – stop,” her laughter strained and breathless.

His mouth kept moving, lips slick with her arousal peppering her inner thighs with kisses, traveling up her body as he carefully straightened his spine (mindful of his aching back) until his torso was pressed against hers and she was reaching for him, enveloping him. It made him want to dissolve into his own pleasure with how anxious she was to taste herself on his lips, panting into his mouth, arching into him – it would have been so easy to slide himself within her; he was already poised to, sprung from his layers of clothing, his tip slotted against her swollen entrance –

“C’mere, darlin’.” With a low grunt, he pulled her close, securing her lithe frame against his torso, his pride ignoring the rather indignant sound she made as he lifted her off the edge of the sink, pulling her up, up – but she trusted him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. It was a slow spin and an even slower shuffle as he carried her out of the bathroom. He couldn't quite see where they were going, focused solely on not losing balance, but soon they were leaving the cool dimness of the bathroom and walking into the bedroom’s sunshine, the light that seeped in through the uncovered patio door warm against their skin.

"Your back—" she insisted against his lips, but he stilled her concern with another kiss, one that lingered until his knee bumped against the foot of the bed. Abandoning any semblance of elegance, he simply tossed her atop the quilt, where she landed and bounced across the mattress with another yelp.

“Smooth,” she laughed, propping herself up with one arm. Sweeping her tousled hair out of her face with the other, she paused to study him. He loomed over her, his tall frame casting a shadow on the bed as he lowered his palms to the quilt, caging her in, unable to help his sheepish grin. She held his gaze for only a second before her eyes flickered back down to his unzipped jeans, his belt hanging loose, boxers haphazardly shoved halfway down his thighs. She arched an eyebrow at him, biting her lip, but her voice was firm when she ordered him: “Pants off. All the way.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he agreed. But he didn’t move immediately. He gave himself a moment to catch his breath, to let his eyes drift over her as she lay in front of him, flushed and glistening, ribs expanding wide with every labored inhale, skin shimmering with a dewy sheen. The skirt of her dress was still pushed up over her thighs in a way that was almost deliciously obscene, and it struck him then – not for the first time – that it was a minor miracle how his life, after seemingly ending so many years ago, could have still led him to this very moment; that this woman bathed in sunlight in front of him had managed to find him at the edge of the world and make him feel lucky. “Gotta do somethin’ real quick, first, though.”

It was so much easier, the second time. Easy, the way he hooked his arms under her bare knees and dragged her toward him. Simple, the way she laughed and squealed and then groaned under the pressure of his tongue, her hand clamped over his wrist as it gripped her hip, tugging at his watch. Effortless, the way she unraveled against him, shuddering and swearing and laughing in short bursts, pushing him away from her overly-sensitive core with languid hands until finally, he relented.

With a grunt, he kicked off his scuffed boots and shed his jeans and boxers, even his t-shirt, desperate to be as close to her as possible, for there to be as little of a barrier between them even if it was just a layer of fabric. And she welcomed him as he crawled between her trembling legs, working his way up to her, his teeth, teasing rather than devouring, nipping and pulling at her flesh, each bite drawing a hiss from her panting mouth. His fingers climbed the ladder of her ribs, finding the perfect slots in the rise and fall of each bone, his other palm tracing the shallow valley between her breasts.

The years had etched every inch of her skin into his memory, and he felt now that there was no part of her remaining that was undiscovered, no territory of her skin that he didn’t feel as though he knew at least as well as his own, but he still explored her now as though he’d never been fortunate enough to touch her before today, trying to unearth all of her; every scar and every dimple, the whisper of goosebumps on her thighs, the jut of her hips, the map of veins across her spindly wrists.

With a soft groan he heaved himself up, pressing his full weight against her torso. For a moment he simply held her, his cheek pressed against the hard plane of her sternum. Breath for breath, they matched each other's rhythm, her heart beating a frantic song against his ear.

Her hands cradled his scalp, fingers running through his silvering curls. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of it, letting the gentle pressure seep into his skull. “Don’t fall asleep on me, now,” she murmured. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and when he did he could almost feel her worries dissipating with his smile, replaced by a soft purr of contentment that resonated through him. Sunlight sculpted soft shadows across her face, bathing her skin in a honeyed glow and tangling in her hair as it splayed across her pillow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” As her breath hitched in a soft sigh, he stretched himself long just so he could nip at the crook of her neck. He loved the way her body responded to him, how she coiled into him like a vine seeking the sun; loved the way her eyes fluttered closed at his touch, her head tilted back in invitation. “Was just warmin’ you up.”

"Don't stop," she breathed, her fingers tugging at his hair. He didn’t stop – he kissed every part of her that he could, every part of her that he could reach while she writhed under his touch. By the time their lips finally met again, there was a warmth curling into his stomach, an impatience in his movements –

He had to force himself to pause, to take a breath, tucking his face against the dampness of her neck. He could already feel it, this primal need to lose control, to bury himself deep within her – she was already using his length as it remained tucked between them, rocking her hips back and forth as it slid between the slickness of her folds, whimpering into his ear about how good he felt, how good he was, how much she’d missed this, how much she needed him –

He could have taken her right then, so easily; could have slid himself into her warmth and fucked her until she’d milked every last drop from him – and he would have loved that, would have loved transporting them both back to a time where sex was uncomplicated and fun, back before she’d earned so many of her scars. But he wanted more from her than that - wanted more for her – and so he slowed himself. He pressed into her as though the weight of him alone would be enough to protect her, cupping her jaw with a calloused hand, tracing the familiar curve with his thumb, content for the moment to just enjoy the heaviness of his body slotted against hers, the sensation of her ribs pulsing against him with every breath. Her hips settled, confusion and concern warring in her gaze.

"Joel –"

"Darlin'." His head dipped low, every word spoken between the press of his lips against her collarbones, the slope of her shoulder. "You still with me?"

"Yes," she whimpered. His free hand was clenched into the sheets next to her shoulder; she arched her arm and grasped it with her hand, fingers intertwining with his, holding tight. "Joel – please –"

"Love you so goddamn much,” he murmured, his lips finding their way back to her neck, joined by his teeth; and he wasn’t gentle, tiny galaxies of violet blooming against her skin under the warmth of his breath. His bites were slow, deliberate, goosebumps following in their wake, a beautiful gasp elicited by each one. "So goddamn much. And I want you to feel good – only good. You feel good?"

“Yes,” she insisted. He shook his head, licking a stripe all the way up her neck until it curved around her ear, his tongue tracing the delicate rim of it while she shuddered beneath him. It wasn’t enough for him, this shaky affirmation – no matter how much he ached for her walls clenched around him, he couldn’t commit himself to what came next until he knew, truly knew that she was ready for him, eager and willing. He met her gaze again, his hand slipping from hers just so they could both cup her blushing face.

"Tell me, darlin'," he whispered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Her lips were soft, but insistent when they crushed themselves against his. It was as though she was trying to slide under his skin; there wasn’t a part of her body that wasn’t moving urgently against him, demanding his attention. Her long, trembling legs wrapped around his waist like clinging vines, her nails digging into his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He couldn't escape the feeling of her everywhere, this urgency that pulled at him until he had no choice but to surrender, because he lost track of time, lost track of himself in the dizziness that came with being pressed against her, her voice urging him on as she purred in his ear, I want you – I need you – please – please –

And it felt like salvation when slotted himself within her, inch by inch – he was rewarded for this, her head tilting back while a small cry of relief fluttered from her lips, her hips rolling against his until he’d worked his way into her fully, stretching her walls around him. His groans mingled with hers as he buried his face against her neck, taking in the heady combination of her shampoo and sweat, and the salty tang of the sea clinging to her wavy strands. In this moment they both surrendered to stillness. Every beat of her heart thrummed against his skin, filling him with a sense of completeness that he hadn’t quite expected, gratitude for her blooming in his chest.

“Baby.” Joel retreated his hips, drawing himself out just an inch or two and then rutting back in; a slow, lingering stroke. He wanted to take his time with her, to draw out as much pleasure for both of them as he could, but this was beginning to feel impossible. His resolve was already beginning to weaken, a more primal urge surging forward, a need to press on and take what he could, to claim her – but he reminded himself that he couldn't. He was meant only to give to her right now, not to take – her vulnerability a fragile thing that he could easily crush if he wasn't careful with it. “Feel so damn good. M’embarrassed – might not last very long.”

“Oh.” Her hand drifted away from his back, raking through his hair, holding tight with his curls clenched between her fingers. Her voice was light, the words floating out along her fluttery breaths. “Well, then. I guess you’d better make it count.” She rolled her hips again, sliding herself along his length, fucking herself with his body before he’d even dared to move. It was as though she ignited a fire in his gut – he met her move for move now, his strokes slow, deliberate, causing her to arch her neck and moan with each connection of their bodies, every sound she made vibrating against his lips as he kissed and nipped at her blemished skin.

“Faster,” she pleaded. His lips curved into a chuckle against the softness of her neck, his fingertips trailing lightly along the base of her skull.

“Sweetness,” he groaned, “if I go any faster, it’s gonna be over.” He could feel her breath quicken in response, something like a desperate whine streaming out of her throat as her fingers gripped even more tightly in his hair – and damn if that didn’t immediately drive him a little over the edge. He stilled his hips, tucking his face against her damp, warm skin, fighting back a sigh of impatience aimed at how his own body was currently trying to embarrass him,

She huffed slightly when he didn’t immediately acquiesce, winding her legs around him even more tightly and moving again. She set the pace this time, and he let her, following the rocking of her body as she clung to him, pleasure pooling in his stomach. She was so warm, alight in the waning sun, every bit of exposed skin gleaming with sweat, slippery against him with every movement. “Fuck,” he panted, his hand shooting out to steady himself against the headboard, because he couldn’t stop himself now, snapping his hips against hers, pumping deeper inside of her with every thrust, chasing his own satisfaction –

“Wait – stop –”

She was trying to kill him, he decided; had to be, because it was torture, this request. But he froze almost immediately, propping himself on his elbows so he could get a better look at her face (though he didn’t know what he’d do if he saw those familiar tears or that look of panic, if he realized she wasn’t as ready for all of this as he’d thought she was, if he’d managed to hurt her, even unintentionally, if, if...), because he was certain she wouldn’t purposefully inflict this – this delicious, agonizing torment – unless something was wrong –

Instead, it was a rather bashful expression that met his gaze; her face flushed and sparkling, biting her lip just to keep her smile somewhat in-check. “I…” Out of breath, she tilted her head back, inhaled deeply; he immediately kissed her neck, relief flooding him when she huffed out a laugh.

“You okay?” he asked her softly, his voice muffled against her skin as his lips traveled up, pressed against her jaw, her cheek. “Baby –”

“Yeah.” It came out with a puff of air, as though she’d been holding the word in her chest for too long. “Yeah – I just –” Her smile shifted, suddenly shy. “Can I get on top?”

His only response, the most natural one his heart could muster, was to kiss her – again, and again, until his lungs burned and the world tilted on its axis, and he didn’t care because she was still laughing, still moving with him, fitting him like she was made for him, like she’d been molded for him from the very beginning and then dropped on this earth just to find him. He was drowning in the scent of her hair, the sunlight glinting off her damp skin, the delicious friction where their bodies met –

– but then she was pushing him away, both hands firm against his chest, and he was letting her, because she was so insistent in her movements, one of her legs forcing him to roll over until he was on his back, her voice filling the space between them, begging, “please – let me – just let me make you feel good –” and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her no –

She clambered on top of him, straddling him with her skirt bunched up around her waist, spilling over his sides. She claimed him fully, immediately, submerging every inch of him within her warmth – and she was a vision as she began to ride him, her hips rolling and cresting like a wave clad in white and green flowers, face tilted to the ceiling, eyes closed, hair a glittering waterfall of molten gold bouncing against her back.

He thought nothing could have surprised him less than this, this fierce need for control, a need to reciprocate – but it wasn’t dominance, this time; it was just a desperate need to balance the scales, to give as good as she got, to remind him that he was the recipient of an affection so profound that it demanded a tangible exchange. He reveled in being the vessel for this outpouring, the one chosen to hold this fragile thing that existed between them – him, of all people, a man who certainly didn’t deserve it, but was lucky enough to have it anyway. So he held onto her hips with hands that done terrible things but only knew how to be kind to her, keeping her steady until he felt her shudder again, knew that she was coming loose on top of him, her muscles tensing, her groans escaping her throat as sharp bursts –

He savored every moment of her climax, letting her ride the waves of pleasure for as long as she needed. He watched her core move in time with his, her eyes slammed shut, and when she began to falter, her arms slack against the headboard and her hips faltering in their rhythm, only then did he join her in this bliss – and he was glad for her help with that, for the subtle guidance of her hips even when she crumpled against him, her hair hanging in his face so that all he could see was strands of gold; the way she let him take over those last few strokes, driving into her unburdened by gentleness, and the way that, at the last moment, she swept her hair away just so she could kiss him, so he could see her face and feel her hot breath on his skin while he fell apart, that knot in his stomach unraveling.

And this was magic, he thought; the way each thrust painted her insides with his release, his unwillingness to stop until he had nothing more to give, until his body stuttered and became still only out of exhaustion, drained and empty and yet full of bliss with her comforting weight pressed against his chest. He could barely move, could barely even think, but his hands seemed as though they had a mind of their own anyway, running up and down the back of her dress, damp with sweat, his mouth mumbling affectionate words that he barely even registered. They remained connected, his body still pulsing with aftershocks, heart lurching in his chest, and when she finally tipped herself over she brought him with her, one leg still slung over him as they rested on their sides, her face tucked against his neck.

Stars bled from his vision as he clumsily grasped her face in his hands. “Baby,” he said gently, enjoying her soft moan when he adjusted his hips, “you feel good?”

Silence stretched, a beat too long. Her eyelids remained stubbornly shut, even when she nodded, her lips a thin line, tightly pursed – and it was quick, that thread of panic that began to unwind in his chest, spooling loose and filling his limbs with little jolts of alarm. Dread clawed at him, and almost as though he thought it would somehow be a cure, he rained kisses down her face – her lips, her nose, her forehead, desperate to coax a reaction. Finally, her eyes fluttered open, and immediately a tear traced a glistening path down her cheek – and he kissed this, too. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, his heart plummeting with every syllable, “it’s so stupid –”

“Not stupid.” He didn’t even know what it was, it was just reflexive, his need to ward away any semblance of self-doubt – and she seemed to realize this, because she laughed again, blinked away another tear, and with a shaky breath she reached up to pull him against her lips, the taste of salt and something deeper lingering there. “Tell me,” he mumbled when she pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers. “If that was…shit, I –”

“No, no,” she stammered. “I’m just – it’s a dumb thing to cry about.” Her laugh was a brittle thing, frayed at the edges. “I…” She pursed her lips, reaching her hand out, her fingertips tracing a feather-light path against his scars. He leaned into them, grateful for them, for this surge of warmth chasing away the sudden chill that had settled over him, chasing the ghost of her touch with a kiss to her palm when her fingers curled against his cheek. She didn’t linger here – she pivoted her arm, her hand and wrist pressed firmly against his eyes. The pleasure blossomed in his gut shifted, sharpened somewhat, twisting into a knot of anxious anticipation – because he could feel her shaking, the hand on his face fluttering like a bird trapped against his skin. “Just – give me a second, okay? Don’t look at me, maybe.”

“Don’t see that I got much of a choice in that.” He didn’t like this, the forced blindness, the lack of control – didn’t like that he couldn’t see her, couldn’t gauge her expression, that he had absolutely no idea if the woman he was still inside of was lying next to him with terror on her face – and this possibility, the sheer hypothetical of it made him feel about ready to crawl out of his skin, a mere figment of his panicked mind that felt suffocatingly real. “Benny –”

“Just – wait, okay? Just one minute.”

And so he waited, blind and anxious while her chest rose and fell against him, while her other hand began a rhythmic path up and down his back, fingers dragging along his skin. “Okay,” she finally sighed, and it was a little startling, the watery laugh that accompanied this. “I’m sorry, I just…” She dropped her hand from his face only because it was needed elsewhere, to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She caught his expression, that anxiousness, the worry that no doubt was still etched across his features, and a chuckle bubbled up from her chest. “Just – a little overwhelmed, is all. Not – not in a bad way. I’m just –” Another laugh shook her body. “You have to think I’m crazy, oh my god –”

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying to force his voice into a tone that was more soothing – and she tried to rein it in, she really did, biting at her lips just to try to stop the laughter, though this only resulted in a sound more like a strangled hiccup. “Look at me.” She did, her lips parting just to let out another long, shuddering breath. “Y’aint crazy. Just wanna make sure you’re…okay, ‘cause –”

“I’m okay.” She said it so forcefully, it actually surprised him. “Because it’s not…that. I’m just…I’m really happy. And I’m not – it’s just been a while, since we…did this and I could – that it’s been only...good. And it’s just…a lot, okay? I…” And maybe she recognized his relief, because she didn’t hesitate to kiss him again, her hand sliding across his skin to squeeze at his thigh. “I think,” she mumbled against his lips, “I just…forgot how good it could be.”

“Oh.” He was so filled with relief, so full of affection for her; he pushed her hair away from her face for her, pressed his nose against her cheek with a small sigh. “Well – damn, woman,” he murmured, “glad I could remind you.”

When her bubbly laughter faded away, the silence that settled was like a warm blanket. Outside, the sun was dipping ever lower, the balcony finally cast in shadow. The light filtering through the windows and the tall glass door dimmed, tinged with the embers of a fading sunset. He couldn’t see his wife’s face as it was still tucked under his chin, but he could feel her; feel her presence in the steady rhythm of her breath, each exhale a sigh of contentment. The longer they lay there together, however, the more certain he became that she’d drifted off to sleep, draped so languidly across him.

A nagging thought prodded him; that at least one of them should be awake and ready to greet Ellie when she came back to the apartment – she wasn’t usually gone for more than a few hours at a time – but it was difficult to fully convince himself of this when he felt such peace. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d laid together like this after having sex, a moment just to enjoy the afterglow, and he realized for the first time that it was possible he missed that more than the act itself.

For just a few more minutes, he decided, everything else could wait. He closed his eyes.

Big bad and little red

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