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atticrissfinch · 6 months

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In the Next Room | (joel miller x fem!reader) (oneshot) (18+)

Masterlist | Ko-fi pairing: neighbor’s fuckbuddy!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When the peace and quiet of your apartment is disturbed by the noisy escapades of the couple in the neighboring unit, you find yourself entranced by the mystery man on the other side of the wall. And when you stumble upon him on a dating app…well, it might just be fate. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] no!outbreak, age gap (Joel is 48, reader is under 29), v mild dom!joel, slight voyeurism, joel just straight slutting and whoring it up but…like…in a charming way, masturbation (f), daddy!kink, a looootta size!kink, dirty talk, a liiittle bit of sexting, one (1) swat to the ass, minor degradation!kink, praise!kink, spitting, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), mild deepthroating, irresponsible unprotected piv, creampie, brief cockwarming, Joel Miller: DILF Extraordinaire even without a kid at home, a teensy weensy bit of ddlg-esque infantilization but nothing extreme, joel and reader just being feral and adorable w each other and having a jolly good ol’ time, reader has hair and is lifted onto a counter sry. word count: ~11.5K | ao3 a/n: I was chatting with daddy chloe @chloeangelic and she mentioned she knew someone who found out her fuckbuddy was also fucking her neighbor and I said…hold on. Huge idea. So this lovely fic was born. I really love these two and I did not expect it to be this fun and cute and sexy, so I hope you enjoy! title is from In the Next Room by Neon Trees, which I highly recommend you give a listen to. s/o to @saradika for the gorgeous divider ♥️

Taglist Update: This will be my last time using my taglist! For future updates people follow @atticrissfinchupdates 💖

If you only knew

How hard it is to handle

How bad I want this scandal

Oh, I lose control

When I hear your body move

Through the walls in the next room

One thing you’ve really come to appreciate about your new apartment is how quiet your neighbors are. You’ve only been here for about 3 months, but in comparison to your last apartment, the noise level might as well be nonexistent. No persnickety old lady raising hell over the dodgy as fuck elevator by the stairs, no screaming three-year-old behind the door across the hall, no meathead grunting out his squats at 5 AM in the neighboring unit. Just a mild-mannered elderly couple across the way and a cute, perky woman, probably in her 30s, in the apartment to your left. It’s been a silent paradise so far, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Until tonight.

It started off with tampered whimpers, then what sounded like moaned “oh, fuck”s, and finally graduated to a thumping bedframe and a woman screaming. Your next-door neighbor, you gather pretty quickly. And not just wordless screams, very colorful screams.

“Fuck, baby!”

“Oh, shit, Joel! So fucking big!”

“I can’t! Too fucking big, please!”

The headboard on the other side of the drywall knock-knock-knocks against your shared wall where your own headboard stands pathetically dormant in contrast.

You hear an unintelligible response to her cries in the cadence of a deep, rumbling voice. You’re a sucker for a deep voice, you always have been, and it sounds like the girl next door is having exactly the kind of night you wish you were having.

“No, fuck, don’t stop! Just so fucking big, Joel!”

The voice rumbles again with a silky lilt to it, and for some unknown reason, you find your eyes drifting closed and your mind filling in the gaps you can’t quite hear.

I know it’s big, baby, but you can take it.

Such a good girl for me.

Feel so tight around this fat cock, baby.

Without even having put thought into it, you discover your hand has snaked its way under your panties and is already massaging circles around your clit. Your mouth drops open in a gasp when you slick up your fingers with the evidence of your arousal and you get the rhythm just right against the bundle of nerves pulsing between your legs.

You thrust up into your hand to the tempo of the headboard crashing into the wall, straining your ear to try and catch even the faintest glimpse of the actual words the man is feeding to her as he pounds her into the mattress.

You’re blessed when his voice raises for a single phrase, a passionate aggression behind his words.

“Yeah, fuckin’ take it for me .”

The words have you bucking into your hand, a moan crackling in your throat, and your fingers picking up speed. Your ears take it upon themselves to filter out the shrieking voice of your neighbor and solely hone in on the husky tones of the man. You imagine he’s older, large and imposing, with hands that dwarf yours as his fingers slip in the spaces between your own and restrain them above your head as his huge cock wreaks havoc on your insides.

It’s been months since you've been laid, months since you’ve even had a single viable candidate in this new city. It’s not a stretch to claim that you’re fucking desperate, hence your hand taking residence in your underwear and getting off to the auditory scraps granted to you by this mystery man.

The woman’s voice breaks through your selective hearing barrier.

“Fuck, I’m coming, Joel!”

And he bestows his heightened voice on you once more as he replies.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. I’m so fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want it? ”

You shut out the woman’s voice again in favor of embarrassingly whimpering out loud to your empty room, “Inside, please, daddy.”

You hear a guttural grunt, and you picture your faceless man’s hips stuttering into you as he fills you up with all he has to give you. You gasp as your orgasm floods through you, shooting warmth through your limbs and sparks through your brain as your hand slows to a stop. You pant as you feel the faint pulsing of your clit under your fingertips, and both the couple and the furniture in the next room fall silent.

Your unsoiled hand reaches up to cover your face, dragging down it as you come to terms with what you just did.

Fuck, you need to get laid.

–

You’ve been rotting in bed all morning, taking full advantage of your peaceful Saturday with no obligations. You scroll mindlessly on your phone as a notification pops up indicating that a package you were expecting was dropped off at your door. You groan, relishing the precious moments in your soft fortress of sheets, and roll lethargically out of bed. You throw on a pair of leggings to cover your bottom half and straighten your mussed camisole to ensure all nipples are accounted for within the confines of the fabric from a night of tossing and turning. You perform a solid full-body stretch, feeling your joints pop faintly and pleasantly as you pad to your front door.

As you pull it open, you bend over to grab the small box, just as the door to your left swings open. You swivel your head to see a man, a large, older man, stepping out the door and pulling it shut behind him. As you snap upright, the man startles, a hand flying over his heart in surprise.

“Jesus, you scared me,” He drawls with a small grin gracing his scruffy–fuck, beautiful –face.

After a few moments, you realize that you’re just fucking gawking at him. “I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to!”

He chuckles, a gorgeous little sound from plush lips, and gives a courteous shake of his head. “All good. Hope you got somethin’ excitin’ there.”

You blink, a quizzical look on your face before you process what he said. “Oh! The package. Not really, just a new milk frother. Gotta have those homemade lattes, you know?” You say with a short laugh, cringing internally at how awkward you’ve suddenly become around this man. Are you really this out of practice with flirting? Not even flirting, just human interaction itself?

The man shrugs, his smile still in place. “More of a black coffee man, myself.”

“Bold,” You attempt to tease, nodding your head. “Need all the energy you can get after a night like that, I suppose,” You say a bit boldly yourself, gesturing to the door he just came out of.

His eyes widen a little, a pale flush entering his cheeks as he gives an uncomfortable cough into his fist. “Uh, ‘s-’scuse me?”

Your eyes widen in response when your brain catches up with what your mouth just ran away with. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I just, uh…had a bit of a front-row…ear to your activities last night. Walls are a little thin,” You clench your teeth in a show of shared embarrassment, jabbing your thumb over your shoulder toward your own apartment.

The blush intensifies on his cheeks as he gives an uncomfortable laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Shit. I, uh, I’m sorry about that. We, uh, we’re usually over at my place, but I found a termite infestation in my house, and it’s being tented right now, and I’m stuck over at my brother’s place, and…I don’t know why I’m tellin’ a complete stranger all my business, but. Anyway, we’re usually over at mine. I’m sorry for the, uh, ruckus,” He rambles, burying his largelargelarge hands into his jean pockets and rocking on his heels. “We’ll be back at mine next time, so. Won’t happen again.”

You nod, only half hearing what he’s rambling about as your concentration is taken out at the knees the more you hear him speak, the more his voice washes over you like a cool splash of water, the more your brain sees fit to supply you with a plethora of disgusting things that voice could divulge to you that you didn’t conjure up last night, this time with his voice in crystal clear high definition and not muffled by anything other than possibly your hair or your skin or your lips on his mouth.

The throbbing between your thighs has your confidence climbing, elevated by your attraction to this complete stranger as he’d referred to you. “Sure sounded like you gave her a good time in there.”

“I-I don’t know about all that,” He laughs awkwardly again, the blush bleeding down his neck.

“I mean, she sure had a lot to say about, uh, what you had to offer,” You babble, feeling your cheeks heat up, but unable to shut yourself up. “Sounds like she was struggling a bit.”

The man’s eyes dodge yours with a fervent dedication, flustering his words as he excuses the accusations. “Nah, she uh…she…she was just talkin' up my ego. You know how it is,” He stammers.

“I don’t know, must be a pretty good actress from what I heard. I’ve never been able to fake it that hard. Sounded pretty real to me…Joel, is it? Did I hear that right?”

“Damn, I, uh, yeah. Yes. Joel. Miller,” He introduces himself stiltedly, holding out a hand and then staring at it like he’s shouting in his head, what the fuck are you doing?

You take his hand for a single shake, gifting him your own name in return. His handshake, though short, is sturdy, mildly calloused against the back of your palm, like he works with his hands. As your mind digs its claws into you with ideas of what exactly he could do with those hands, they fall away from each other, and you occupy the absence by gripping the frame of your doorway.

“Well, uh, it was nice meetin’ you. I-I promise we won’t disturb your peace again,” He says with a resolute nod.

“No biggie,” You reply, doing your best to sound casual and, if you’re honest, not discourage him from putting on another show for you to get off to.

He gives one more jerky nod and heads for the elevator, rubbing his flushed neck as he goes. You grab your package and scurry into your apartment, shutting the door firmly behind you and drooping back against it.

Stupid stupid stupid.

Hot hot hot.

Fuck.

–

That evening, the solution to your growing problem seems relatively obvious as you mull over your actions from last night and this morning. Your need to have the shit fucked out of you is reaching a fever pitch, and the easiest, most logical conclusion is to dust off the dating apps burning a hole through your phone.

So you settle in against your pillows with a large glass of rosé and open up an app.

You won’t lie, things are looking pretty bleak.

You must swipe past thirty mediocre men, only doling out one or two right-swipes among the lefts.

And then you feel your stomach swoop.

You know that face. Time could jettison you forward forty years into the future and you would still know that face. The way it blossomed with red at your comments, the way thick fingers scratched at the scruff adorning it, the way the lines by his eyes crinkled in bashfulness.

And then there’s his name, locking your suspicions in concrete.

Joel. Age 48. 7 Miles away.

Bio: Just a simple guy, looking for fun, but we’ll see how things go.

You scroll through his photos, a random selection of snippets from his life. One with a beer in his hand at the beach, his toes in the sand. Another with his face shaded by a ball cap, squinting at the photographer to his left as he sits with a fishing pole cast into a lake. His arm around a man roughly the same height and age range, some shared facial features, matching smiles–a brother, maybe. A suggestive selfie in his bed, sheets tucked below his pecs, eyes bleary with sleep accompanied by a soft smile and messy curls.

Easiest swipe right of your life.

Another pang alights in your stomach when you’re instantly met with the little “matching” animation, clinking your two profile pictures together with a heart.

Your tongue darts across your lips as you sit up straighter, wine sloshing in your glass until you steady it with another sip. Your standard protocol is to wait for the guy to message first, but your eagerness gets the better of you. You don’t even wait a few minutes to be coy, you just go full-send.

You: Fancy seeing you on here…

Fully expecting to wait a minute for a response, you take a deep breath and burrow into your pillows again. But you get a notification almost instantly.

Joel: I was thinking the same thing… Joel: Feels somethin like kismet, or whatever they call it

A smile breaks against your cheeks, and you bite into your knuckle to stop yourself from just straight-up squealing.

You: They do call it that, from what I hear 🤭

This time he doesn’t respond immediately, and your teeth begin to tug at your lower lip as you watch the stagnant chat thread.

And then a possible reality smacks you in the face.

What if this man is taken? What if your neighbor is his girlfriend and he’s still creeping for girls on dating apps?

The fluttering in your stomach starts to take a sour turn, worrying your lip further as you await his reply. What if they’re together right now, and he can only respond when she’s distracted?

Another message pops up.

Joel: A little like kismet that we met in the hallway i’d say too. Same place, same time and all

You take a breath and decide to just cut through the bullshit as early as possible before your thoughts truly run away from you.

You: Speaking of. I’m gonna be honest. If that’s your girlfriend that lives next to me, I’m gonna have to enact Girl Code and let her know I saw you on here. Because that shit is not cool.

You send it before you can talk yourself out of it, and close out of the app as soon as it’s out of your hands. You down what remains of your wine and place the empty glass on your nightstand, but your attention springs back to your phone as it buzzes again. You brace yourself for his panic or defense and open the message.

Joel: lol well you can put down your pitchfork and reshelve the sacred “Girl Code”. Trish and I are strictly casual. By her own insistence matter a fact. You can ask her if you don’t believe me

You sigh a breath of relief and tap out a response.

You: Really? You: Guess I just have a hard time believing that any woman could turn down that face

He responds immediately again.

Joel: Well now you got me blushin again. Thank you darlin

You: At least I can rule you out as “stupid enough to cheat on your gf by trolling dating apps with your full face on display”

Joel: Haha no ma’am. I’m an honest man. Only cheat at Go Fish and Yahtzee and it’s been an age since I cast my hand at either.

You: Well now I know what to watch out for 😜

You stretch your legs out under your sheets, feeling giddy that the banter is coming so easily after your awkward conversation earlier today.

You: How’s the whole tenting situation going?

Joel: Got back in this morning. House successfully fumigated. Termite threat hopefully neutralized. Fingers crossed.

You: Lucky Trish

You nibble on the side of your thumb as you wistfully beg him to take the bait.

He does.

Joel: Could be your luck too… Joel: If you want

You suddenly very much regret consuming half a bottle of rosé.

You could invite him over here, but that would be especially cruel. Unequivocally against Girl Code to fuck the man you literally met because your neighbor is also fucking him in the apartment next to you, in the apartment next to her the very next night. That’s some twisted, reverse Uno shit, and you have no desire to tempt fate or karma with that nonsense.

You: Unfortunately I’m a little intoxicated right now. And I don’t want to invoke the wrath of an otherwise peaceful neighbor by stealing her fuck buddy from right under her nose and then rubbing said nose in it by making her listen lol

At severe risk of coming off as uninterested, you quickly follow up.

You: Maybe tomorrow? I’m free all day. Would love to see what all the fuss was about last night.

He surprises you, his next response coming in the form of a short voice memo. You practically tangle your fingers into knots in your effort to smash Play.

That dripping, syrupy Southern drawl echoes out of your phone speaker.

“That’s a real shame, darlin’. But I’m free all day too. I’d love to show you…what was it you said? What I ‘have to offer’?”

The message cuts off just after a delicious little chuckle, and you stare daggers at your wine glass. Fucking bullshit little cockblocker.

You decide it’s only fitting to respond with a memo of your own, dipping your voice a little lower, more sultry to the best of your ability.

“I think I’d love that. I could come over at noon. You could have me for lunch.”

Before you can second-guess, the memo slips from your fingers and straight to Joel’s phone.

Joel: Damn. Joel: I’ll put on my bib. Got a feeling i’m gonna need it.

Your cheeks heat at the insinuation, and you sneak a hand underneath your panties to assess whether he’s right.

And, fuck, he is. You’re practically swimming in your own arousal at the mere thought of Joel being a live outlet for your pent-up sexual energy. You moan as your fingers graze your clit, but you pull them out before you lose yourself too much.

In a display of what you can only describe as bravery on your part, you aim your camera at your two soaked fingers, spreading them slowly until your slick is webbed thickly between them, translucent and alluring. Before the viscous threads break, you focus the frame and snap the photo. Caution to the wind once more, you send it off to Joel.

No more than a minute later, another voice memo pops up for your listening pleasure.

His voice sounds significantly more wrecked this time.

“God fuckin’ damn, babygirl. Better save some of that for me. By the time I get my mouth on you, I’m gonna be fuckin’ famished .”

You toy with your wet fingers, only pausing a moment before slipping them between your lips and sucking off the evidence of your attraction, moaning into your empty room at the heady taste, knowing Joel will be drinking it right from the source tomorrow.

You start another voice memo.

“Lucky for you, I just did some quality assurance on your meal for tomorrow. A little taste test. I think it’ll meet your expectations. Maybe even exceed them.”

Joel responds quickly with his own memo, the message starting with a groaning sigh that is quite possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard until you hear what he has to say next.

“Shit, babygirl. So proud of you, bein’ so thorough for me.”

You swear you can feel the serotonin flooding your brain at his praise, only increased when he sends a short follow-up memo.

“Such a good girl for daddy.”

A shot of arousal pulses through your cunt at that word and you feel like this shit is too good to be true. At the risk of saying something stupid, you opt to just send a no-frills text back.

You: Fuck.

You already feel like you can just hear that decadent, dirty little chuckle from that first voice memo in response to your message.

Joel: Night, babygirl. See you at noon.

A text with his address tags along after. You paste it into your GPS app. Seven miles away.

You laugh, almost incredulously, to yourself.

Fucking kismet.

It takes you mere minutes to get yourself off after.

Once the haze has lifted, you’re on your wobbly feet, planning your outfit for Joel to take off tomorrow.

—-

The summer breeze fiddles with the hem of your skirt, probably too short to be wearing in any kind of windy weather, but you know what you’re about today. High hemlines, low necklines, a necklace with a tiny charm positioned at the crest of your cleavage to draw the eye, just in case he’s not the red-blooded straight American male you’ve tapped him to be.

You fidget with your dress as you make your way up Joel’s driveway, cross-checking the address number in the text with the one on the front of his house in tarnished gold numerical plates. When you’re confident you’re in the right place, you step up onto the porch, taking a deep breath before knocking on the front door.

The varnished wood creaks open moments later, revealing Joel in all his scruffy, broad glory. He’s in a basic white tee, jeans, and thick socks, and that shit has never looked so tantalizing to you, biceps straining the elastic on his tight shirt sleeves.

“Hi there,” He drawls, taking you in from head to foot and back again. You smile, doing your best to swallow the catastrophic levels of animal attraction you feel to this man just from the first glance.

He holds the door open for you and you step inside. Your first thoughts are that the home is cozy. Lived in. Picture frames on the walls of people you don’t recognize save for the ones featuring the owner of the home. A living room shooting off from the foyer with appropriately dingy couches and throw blankets strewn across them. A carpeted wooden staircase in the entryway leading to the upper level and a hallway that’s a straight shot into the homey kitchen.

It feels…like a home. But a home that has had more than one resident. You decide to delve into that at a later date.

Joel clicks the door shut behind you as you slip off your sandals and he takes your hand in his, holding it out to get the full effect of you. He pipes out a wolfish whistle as he admires your dress, the drape of it over your body.

“You are a picture, darlin’.”

“Thanks,” You mutter, fighting off the urge to succumb to your self-consciousness. “But if I’m a picture, you’re the whole fucking photo album.”

Joel tuts at you. “Don’t you start an argument about who’s the better lookin’ one of the two of us, ‘cause a bastard just might spend the rest of the day makin’ his case,” He counters with a crooked smile, petting the back of your hand with his thumb before placing a kiss to it.

“What a gentleman,” You say, an airy affect to your voice helping to mask the catching of your breath in your throat at first the touch of his lips to your person.

“Do what I can,” He chuckles, letting your hand fall, but linking a large pinky with yours as you meander down the hall. It feels strangely intimate, yet somehow settles the subtle shake in your fingers.

“Your home is lovely. Very warm. Welcoming.”

“I like to think that’s mostly my charming demeanor,” He flirts, peeking over at you as you both enter the kitchen. “Get you a drink?”

“No, I’m okay,” You throw over your shoulder as your pinkies lose contact and you wander around the kitchen island. He leans back against the counter, arms loose across his chest as he tracks your movements around his space. That feels intimate too, the casual scrutiny.

You run your hands over the clean counters, your curiosity peaking when you come across a hodge-podge of odds and ends scattered on the laminate. Screws, drillbits, drywall anchors, and a myriad of other bits and bobbles you don’t know the technical terms for.

You nudge one of the screws and send it rolling towards the backsplash. “Handyman, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that,” He affirms, glancing down at his arms and then back up at you. “I’m a, uh, contractor. My brother and I, we run a ragtag little outfit. Oversee a handful of guys. Got work all over the valley.”

“So good with your hands,” You nod with a flirtatious little smirk.

Joel gives a small laugh. “Reckon so, I guess.”

“Work on anything exciting?”

He shrugs. “Here and there. Mostly just internal construction for new small businesses in the area. Sometimes homes, kitchen remodels, that kinda thing.”

“You build this one?”

“Actually didn’t. Just ‘cause I got the know-how don’t make it easier to get all the proper permits and land and shit to build my own. And was still raisin’ a kid on my lonesome at the time. Less hassle to just buy. Did do my brother Tommy’s place though. Let him handle all the bureaucratic shit.”

You hum in understanding. “He the guy in your profile photo?”

“The very same,” He confirms with a dip of his head.

“Hmm,” You muse, the passive revelation he just dropped not at all lost on you. “A kid, huh? So, you’re, like, a proper DILF then.”

He chuckles, eyes downcast with a dash of that sheepishness. “Dunno about that. She’s long gone out the house by now.”

“How old?”

“Uh, she’ll be 29 come this December.”

“Oh. Damn.”

“What?”

“Older than me.”

His eyes pop. “Shit.”

You see a kind of cast fall over his face, like a cloud drifting its way past the sun, and you feel a twinge of guilt for digging that up. But something tells you there’s something about that concept he’s intrigued by, aroused by. He’s not blind, he knows you’re young. He knows how old his daughter is, what she looks like at her age. Maybe just didn’t quite put two and two together until you emphasized it.

You saunter toward him, your teeth sliding against your lower lip as you rest your hands on the counter at either side of him, feeling the heat of his skin radiating on your own and intent on waving off the cloud over his expression to bring back that sun.

“Good thing I like that sorta thing, I guess. Daddy…” You let that final world melt off your tongue as you look up at him, the solar flare in his eyes a perfect match for yours.

Joel’s chest rises as he inhales, blowing it out in a measured stream through his lips and shaking his head at you as his hands navigate their way to your sides, curling into the thin, stretchy cotton of your dress. “Oh, you little devil. Don’t go teasin’ me with that. Can’t be held responsible for what I do with it.”

“What?” You tease, fingertips tracing the softness giving way to muscle beneath the flimsy material of his t-shirt. “You ashamed to be putting the moves onto someone younger than your kid?”

Joel just shakes his head again, exhaling through his nose as it points to the floor. “Just makes me feel like a dirty old man.”

“Mmm,” You croon, tucking a finger under his chin and coaxing him to look at you. “But you are a dirty old man. Desperate to slide into some young, hot pussy. For a pretty little thing to call you ‘daddy’ while you do it.”

“Fuck…” He rolls off his tongue as his eyes squeeze shut and his head droops back.

“Does Trish call you daddy, too?”

Joel’s head plops back down, conflict warring on his features at the mention of your neighbor while you’re both tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge. “Shit, baby. You can’t—”

“Does she?”

He sighs, his pivoting pupils searching yours before answering, “No. She doesn’t.”

You pull a raspy little sound from your throat as you inch your face closer to his, but taking care that you can still study all of his wrinkles and micro-expressions.

“But that’s what you want. Isn’t it,” You state with no room for argument. “You want me to call you my daddy. Let you fuck me while I whisper it in your ear. And fall apart on your cock with it on my lips, where your come will probably be soon after.”

Your lips ghost over his, and you can see the shimmer in his brown irises, the sparkle of every last filthy thing he wants to subject you to for the good of his own pleasure. As you speak again, your lips brush against his, and you tilt your head back enough to capture his eyes.

“Now, which set of lips that ends up being, I’ll leave up to you.”

The tension snaps like the bite of a rubber band, and you gasp in shock as Joel’s hand flies up to your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks until your mouth is in a pout.

“Said you wanted to see if your neighbor was all talk, didn’t ya?”

He all but forces you to nod your head with his hand as you blink rapidly, him nodding along with you with his own head, almost mockingly so with you in his unyielding clutches.

“Yeah? So how’s about you stop runnin’ that pretty mouth, get on your knees, and find out for yourself.”

He maintains his grip on your face as you lower obediently to your knees, your hands slipping down the panes of his body as you go, until they sit at his thighs and you’re sat on your heels with Joel leaning slightly over you to maintain his hold in the new position.

“Good girl. Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.”

With him already pressing your cheeks together, your mouth pops open with little effort, your tongue following suit. You detect movement inside his mouth, and then he’s hovering over your face with a glint in his eyes. A thick strand of saliva drips from his mouth directly onto your waiting tongue.

You let out a brief, open-mouthed whimper as the fluid hits your tastebuds, but stay put as his spit trickles to the back of your mouth.

“How does daddy taste, babygirl? Good?”

You nod assuringly, the saliva pooling at the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl. Now swallow for daddy.”

You do so eagerly, closing your mouth to swipe your tongue against the roof and push every drop down your throat, before opening back up for him in a display of subservience.

Joel’s thumb tamps down on your tongue, stroking with minor pressure over the muscle with something like a proud smirk. “So obedient. Daddy likes that. ‘Specially when you were so mouthy a second ago.”

“I’m versatile,” You manage to enunciate with Joel manipulating your face to his liking.

“Yes, you are,” Joel praises, eyes flitting back and forth between your mouth and your blown out pupils. Without any preface this time, he shoots another wad of spit directly to the back of your mouth, and you gulp it down with as much relish as the first. Joel exhales a laugh and descends on you, slotting his mouth against yours with a decadent moan, his tongue dragging against yours as if to say good job.

You laugh into it a little bit, tangling your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck to hold him to you. He tastes fresh, like cold water and toothpaste and something else that seems to be uniquely Joel.

His kiss is commanding. Domineering in a manner that’s almost passive, intuitive. He leads, you follow. You hear the jingling of a belt, and your lips already feel plump and debauched from his tongue and teeth. When he breaks apart from you, it’s to lay his forehead against yours, peering directly into the insatiable avarice that he’s provoked inside you in an unprecedented amount of time.

You hear the grate of his zipper as he lures you in further with a teasing, “Now how’s about we see just what you can offer me .”

He pulls you in for one last tongue-caressing kiss, leaving you breathless as he props his elbows onto the counter to his back, an impressive bulge protruding within his boxer-briefs though the undone fly of his jeans.

“Right here in your kitchen?”

“Right here in my goddamn kitchen. ‘S where we eat all our meals,” Joel informs with a shade of seriousness, reaching down to pinch your chin in his fingers and successfully enrapturing your attention. “You be a good girl and choke down what daddy gives ya. Then daddy’ll have his fill. Unpack that little lunchbox you brought just for him, spread you out over the counter so he can feast as he pleases. And then he’ll pack it right back up for you, ‘cause he knows how hungry you are, huh?”

You whine from your throat and nod, “Yes, daddy.”

“That’s daddy’s good girl,” He coos. “Now take it out. Tell daddy if it’s gonna fill you up as full as you thought.”

When your hands come up to curl around the band of his boxers there’s a swirling of anticipation in your belly. You draw the suspense out for yourself, keeping your eyes on Joel’s as you tug down, his shaft bobbing in your periphery. And fuck, even just at the edge of your vision, you can tell he is impressive.

“Go on and look, babygirl. He’s all ready for ya.”

You indulge yourself then, drinking in the sight, the size of him. He’s thick, girth like you’ve never seen before on a normal person who doesn’t pull his cock out for cash. He’s long, too. Swathes of skin bulging with purple-blue veins over the rock-hard swell of him, culminating at a plump, dark red tip that’s already weeping for you.

Your mouth is far ahead of you, saliva flooding from under your tongue to signal up to your brain, I’m so fucking ready.

You subconsciously lick your lips, earning a fleeting laugh from Joel above you. “Whaddya think? Look like it’ll make a good snack ‘fore we get to the main course?”

There’s a severe lack of eloquence being crafted in your mind, forcibly being shoved out in favor of Joel. Big. Joel. Big. Lick. Taste.

Before you can filter it out, you just blurt out, “Big.”

That makes Joel chime a laugh again. “Very astute. What a smart girl daddy’s got here.”

“You were being modest outside my apartment,” You point out with a smirk. “You’re proud of how big you are.”

“Lotta talkin’ goin’ on here, babygirl,” Joel chides, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock that somehow only serves to make him look larger. “That really what you wanna be doin’ right now?”

You shake your head and nudge his hand to replace it with yours, almost comically small around the thickness of him. Joel hums out a moan as you employ the dribble from his slit to slick down his cock.

“Can I…spit on it?”

Joel’s chin drips down as he raises an eyebrow at you. “Can you? Baby, you think you gotta ask?”

You make a shallow shrugging motion as you pull at his cock with your fist. “Just trying to be a good girl.”

“Well, ‘f you ask me,” Joel replies, his voice crawling a little deeper in tone as you continue to stroke him, “a good girl always spits, then swallows.”

“Yeah?” You ask, your own voice verging on coyish innocence.

“Yeah,” Joel rasps, an edge of authority infused into the word in response to the naïveté in yours. It stirs something in your belly, something that preens and purrs and waits not-so-patiently for more of that dictatorial timbre—and maybe a firm hand to go along with it.

You find yourself yearning for the strong, steady press of his fingers against your cheeks again.

Not wanting to taint that “good girl” status as laid out by Joel, you accumulate the saliva in your mouth as you poise his length at your lips, and then round them to expel a healthy dose of spit onto the head.

Joel moans again, petting a hand over your hair as you work the lubrication down his cock. “Mmm, hand looks mighty small ‘round that big cock, don’t it?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, your speed increasing with the enhanced wetness. Your fingertips don’t touch, and that knowledge has your pussy tingling under your dress. There’s just so much of him.

Noises continue to spawn from Joel’s mouth as you pump him, twisting around the head and enthralling yourself with the precome spilling from his tip.

“Put your mouth on it, baby,” He directs, a hint of that dominance injected into the command, which you take as an indicator that he’s done with teasing, he wants to fuck something.

Fortunately, your mouth is more than willing, saliva still pooling in anticipation. You stroke him at the base as you stick out your tongue, giving him broad licks up the underside of the head and dipping into the slit. The groan Joel emits spurs you on, encasing the tip in your mouth and sucking.

“Fuck me, babygirl. So fuckin’ good. Take it deeper.”

You moan around him as you loosen your jaw and dive down onto him until he nudges at the back of your throat. The tickle has an eye-watering cough vibrating around him, but you tuck your lips over your teeth and fight through your gag reflex.

The length you still have left to take has you whimpering as you bob on him, keeping him buried toward the back until you have to release and gasp in a large breath.

“Little too big for you, darlin’?” He remarks with a tilted smile, his thumb running over your damp cheek.

You vehemently shake your head, taking him in again as you stroke what you can’t suck.

Joel groans loudly, tossing his head back as his cock drags along the back of you. His fingers grip your hair as his head falls back down, his lips glistening. “Gimme that tight little throat, babygirl. Can you do that? You ever deepthroated a big cock before?”

You whine and let him slip out of you, dripping with saliva and making up for your absence with quick, long strokes. “Not as big as you, daddy. Not even close.”

“Just let me do the tip then, babygirl. I know it’s big, but you’re a big girl, aren’t you? Y’can take it. I won’t go too deep.”

You nod, mumbling against the reddened tip, “I can do that.”

“Good girl,” He praises, nudging at the back of your head until he’s as far as you can take him without actually entering your throat. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as you gaze up at him, and him down at you. “Just let it in. Deep breath through your nose and let daddy take your throat,” He soothes, flexing his hand in your hair.

He watches as you inhale, and then rocks his hips forward, stretching your throat open around the head of him. You choke out a whine and Joel shivers at the friction of it, white-knuckling the counter at his back with his free hand as his eyes clench shut.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby. That’s— fuck.”

He pulls you free to inhale more precious air, an expression of lust and admiration on his face as he takes in your debauched features. “So good. Doin’ so good for me. Let daddy in again.”

You suck in another breath and sink down on him, your clit beating between your legs as he breaches the tip of his cock into your throat again. It makes your brain go misty, struggling to inhale through your nose. You’ve never felt something stretch your throat like this, but it’s intoxicating. You’ve been choked before and found pleasure in that, but this is different. A complete obstruction of your airway, just for the sake of proving your sluttiness to a near-stranger.

“God, so fuckin’ tight for me. Such a tight fuckin’ girl for daddy,” He forces out through gritted teeth, gently rolling his hips to fuck your throat with his tip. Your throat constricts as you stave off your reflexes, and you know he feels it because the man goddamn whimpers.

He rips you off of him by the back of your head, panting as he rakes his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Fuckin’ Jesus. ‘Bout to bust my goddamn load, darlin’. Shit.”

Warmth blossoms in your stomach at potentially being this gorgeous man’s undoing. You watch his chest rise and fall as he reigns in his orgasm, his cock bobbing up and down, the purpling tip seeping with precome and cascading with your spit.

You automatically lean back in and place a tiny kiss to his slit, giggling at the resultant undulation of his stomach under his shirt. Joel breathes out a laugh of his own and holds a hand out for you.

“Come on. ‘S my turn.”

A little dazed, you take his hand and let him haul you up off your smarting knees, pulling you right into his chest.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” He mutters as he captures your lips with his, licking into your mouth with fervor. You collapse into it, sighing into his mouth as his tongue mingles with yours, not a care in the world about the presence of his own fluids coating your tastebuds.

You relinquish your hold on his lips, the bottom one sliding through your teeth, and mutter against him with a grin, “This is fun.”

He laughs lightly, stroking a thumb along your jaw. “Yeah? You havin’ a good time?”

“Mhmm.”

“Haven't even served the appetizer yet,” He mumbles, squeezing at your hips. “Hop up on the counter.”

He maneuvers you back and helps lift you up on the kitchen island, his hands gliding over the tops of your thighs once you’re seated.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy since I met you in the hallway,” He shares, heat in his eyes as he looks up at you from your acquired high ground.

“Really? Slipping out of one woman’s bed just to pop a boner over another one’s pussy ten seconds later? Such a slut, Joel Miller,” You chastise, leaning back on your hands and parting your legs wider.

“Well, as you can attest to now, there’s plenty of me to go around,” He justifies with a little wink, before craning his head to whisper against your ear, “She’s never deethroated me like that neither. So what does that make you, babygirl?”

“Hmm,” You hum, pretending to actually ponder his words as he kisses along your neck. “Good at what I do?”

He snorts, nipping at your jaw, “‘S a nice way of puttin’ it. I’d’ve just called you a goddamn slut right back.”

“Mmm. Kismet, huh?” You banter back, your fingers curling against the countertop at the charged sensation of his breath over your skin.

Joel grins against your cheek, his hands slowly shifting up your dress. “Fuckin’ kismet.”

His fingers journey up higher, higher, until they hit the crease of your thigh…and he stops.

“Fuck. You’re definitely a little slut. Showin’ up to a stranger’s house with no panties?” He emphasizes his words by dipping a finger between your soaking wet folds, drawing a shiver from you.

“W-waste of time,” You stutter out, subtly rolling your hips down onto his finger. “Already knew what was gonna h-happen. Where they’d end up.”

“I’ll say,” He agrees, his finger disappearing from your center as it drags wetly back up your inner thigh with the rest of his fingers, gripping your thighs with both hands. “Already drippin’ off my fingers.”

He parts your legs with something akin to reverence, and when you’re spread out for him, fully on display, he groans as his forehead drops down onto your thigh.

“God, look at that. So fuckin’ juicy for me and I ain’t barely touched you yet. You really like chokin’ on my dick that much? Make you all drippy and desperate for your daddy?”

“Yeah,” You whimper, feeling your hole clench at his words.

“Perfect,” He sighs out, pressing up on the back of your thighs. “Feet on the counter, darlin’. Lie back.”

“But this is your kitchen counter —”

“I know what it is. What, you think a man don’t got bleach in the house? Now lie back.”

“I don't think you’re supposed to use bl—oh, fuck.”

Joel puffs out a devilish laugh into your clit as he swirls the tip of his tongue around it in dizzying circles.

“Shit, god,” You exhale, feeling a full-body shiver roll through you this time as you dance on the balls of your feet against the counter. “Ok, I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t shut up,” He mumbles, unlatching for just a moment. “Wanna hear exactly what I do to you,” He adds with a mischievous lilt to his voice before sucking your clit back into his mouth.

“Yeah, okay. Fuck,” You sigh out, your hand blindly searching between your legs until it locates Joel’s head and grabs. Joel moans into your pussy, pulling a gasp from you in return as it pulses through your clit.

Joel’s fingernails dig into the meat of your thigh as he brings two fingers to tease down the folds of your cunt and prod experimentally at your entrance.

“Fuck, yes, please put them in, daddy,” You whine, hips seeking to suck them inside you and making Joel breathe out a laugh again.

“I got you, babygirl. You just lie back and let daddy make you feel good.”

You pick your head up from the counter, seeing the twinkle in his eye and the top of his head adorned with your fingers in his hair, and you feel your face collapsing in pleasure as he slips his fingers inside you while holding your gaze. You drop your head back on the counter a little harder than you should, and if your cunt wasn’t clamping down around his fingers right now and your clit bearing the hot, broad brunt of his tongue, you might care more. But the soft throb at the back of your skull syncs up flawlessly with the thrust of him pushing your walls open, and it just works.

You lose yourself in the slip of his tongue over your sensitive nub, your slick folds, the trace of him around where you’re stretched open around his fingers, sucking kisses at your stuffed entrance. It’s disorientingly hazy in your mind, the reality of it all. You just met this man, know next to nothing about him, whether he’s a liar or just a single father with a heart of gold and a dick of divine proportions.

But Joel crooks his fingers just right as he fucks into you and you don’t fucking care about any of that. Just care about the press of him against your most sensitive spot, how you’re fucking screaming “daddy” for him and bucking your hips against his face.

He hooks his free arm around your thigh to hold you in place, and you glance up to see pure, unadulterated hunger in his eyes as he devours you. You catch glimpses of his mustache webbed and glistening with your slick as his mouth works you over.

The passion, the intensity in his gaze has the pleasure in your belly spinning and swirling, and you know that he knows it.

“Daddy, I-I’m—”

He doesn’t even lift his mouth from your quickly spiraling pussy, he just fixes you with a look and nods.

Your fingers yank at his hair as your back arches against the laminate, feet bowing up on your tiptoes, a thousand and one words flooding your brain that you could say, if only your vocal cords were operational at this exact moment. You just see a flash of white across your vision, eek out the tiniest squeak, and feel yourself transcend for a few blissful moments.

Joel growls against your pussy, fucking you through your release with abandon until your body all but disintigrates against the countertop, your clit still pounding like a drum against Joel’s voracious lips.

He drifts off you and flops his sweaty curls against your leg as you hear him laughing a little, panting a lot.

“Oh my god,” are the first words you’re able to string together in the aftermath. Joel chuckles against your thigh, tonguing kisses up your skin and nuzzling his nose into the crease of your thigh and pussy.

“Could fuckin’ live right here,” He muses, placing a delicate kiss on your outer lips.

“I wouldn’t complain,” You sigh, muscling yourself up onto your forearms to admire the pussy-eating-glow Joel has in spades on his face.

He holds his two slicked fingers up in the air and beckons your forward with them. You heed his call, pushing yourself up until you’re sitting up, albeit rather unsteadily. Without a word, he brings them to your lips, and you open. It’s so fucking easy to open yourself up for him, you’re learning. He studies your lips as you suck yourself off of him, substantially more coated in your wetness than when you sent him that filthy picture last night. And just for a little fun, you swirl your tongue around the tips of them, in between them, just to see his eyes glaze over a bit.

He slips his fingers free and cups the back of your neck, eyes still preoccupied with the shape of your mouth. “Bring those lips over here, babygirl.”

You indulge him, indulge yourself, and revel in the press of his plump lips against yours again. His mouth moves so silkily with yours, an expert at drawing out the tension of these in-between overtures, sucking the taste of you right off your own tongue.

Resting your forehead against his, you whisper, “Can I tell you a secret?”

His eyes close as he nods, “Mhmm…”

“The other night…when I was listening…”

He pops one eye open in curiosity. “Mmm?”

Your teeth toy with your lip before you reveal to him, “I came. To the sound of your voice. The sound of you coming.”

His eyes fall closed again with a broad grin. “Goddamn. Do I got a little voyeur on my hands?” He asks, intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing as his mouth finds your neck again, gradually winding you back up.

“Not intentionally,” You sigh out, your head lulling to the side with the drag of his lips. “Just couldn’t get over how sexy your voice was, even when I could barely hear your words. Just the tone of it.”

“Well, I’ll talk all you want me to, babygirl.”

“Good.”

He hums into you, flexing a hand at your hip. “I would really like to fuck you now. ‘F you’ll let me.”

“Hmm, let me think about that…” You tease, wrapping your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck to pull him in and taste him again.

“Bedroom,” He mouths against your lips, helping to lift you off the counter and back onto your feet.

“Yeah,” You agree, letting him tug you along behind you up the stairs.

Your dress is on the floor in record time, your tits falling free of their confines when your bra follows, and Joel is shrugging his shirt off his shoulders when he herds you onto his bed, straddling you at the shoulders and waist.

“Look at these goddamn tits, baby. Where you been hidin’ these all this time?” He groans, burying his face in them and sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth.

“Th-th-think we were a little busy, don’t you?”

“Never too busy for tits like these,” He asserts as he trades sides, the bud popping from his mouth plumped and shiny.

You allow yourself to get lost in the sensation of his mouth on your breasts, his tongue and teeth stimulating your nipples, his hands groping the flesh of them. His exposed cock grinds against your thigh, leaving streaks of precome in its wake.

“How do you want daddy to fuck you, babygirl?” He asks, kissing his way up your chest.

You push through the haze of pleasure in your head, second-guessing what you’d already decided to say when you’d both arrived at this moment. “You’re gonna think I’m weird.”

Joel studies your face with a faint smile. “Maybe. Try me.”

After a brief silence, you decide to throw caution to the wind. Just ask for what you want. He can tell you to fuck off if it creeps him out.

“Fuck me like you fucked her.”

A flash of devilishness sparks in his eye, his smile burgeoning as he considers your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna see how much my imagination got right.”

You see his tongue prodding at his inner cheek as he processes, eyes not straying from yours. Only growing more ravenous. “Okay,” He finally agrees, giving you a small nod. “Hands and knees, babygirl.”

Joel pushes off the bed, wriggling himself out of his lingering clothes as you eagerly get in position, peeking over your shoulder to get a nice view of this gorgeous specimen getting naked for you. Joel spies the attention quickly with you not exactly striving for subtlety, and he winks at you as he strips off his boxers.

And something about that small gesture sets off the butterflies in your stomach. Which is all well and good, you suppose, granted that given Joel’s size, they were destined to be disrupted rather imminently anyway.

Joel settles in behind you on his knees, his hands naturally gravitating to the curve of your hips as his cock bobs obscenely in the space between your bodies. He pushes and pulls at the flesh of your ass, parting it in front of him to reveal yourself to him from a different angle this time. The muted fuck he breathes out at the sight ruffles those wings in your belly again.

His middle finger slips down the center of your ass, gliding over the pucker of your asshole and descending toward your soaked opening, and your eyelids shutter closed with a sigh.

When he speaks again, it’s softer than it has been. Like the reverence that manifested when he spread your legs on the counter has found its way back to him.

“Now, I fucked her with a condom. You want me to use a condom?”

You swallow and exhale through your nose. “We should.”

“Yes we should,” He echoes, and his finger pushes into you with ease.

“Don’t.”

His finger freezes. “Don’t?”

“No, not—” You try to clarify, huffing a breath out through your mouth this time. “Don’t use one. Fuck me bare. I’m clean. And on birth control. You’re…you’re clean, right?”

Joel’s finger starts to move again, but slowly, fucking into you at a glacially agonizing pace that has your breath hitching in your chest, building that heat in your core once again while barely even trying.

“I’ve been clean since the last time I fucked someone bare. But I don’t know about after. You okay with that?”

You sigh, “This is fucking stupid right? We shouldn’t.”

Joel nods behind you, quietly slipping in a second finger along with the first and evoking a near-undetectable moan from you, while he commiserates your own sentiments once more.

“It is stupid. And we shouldn’t.”

“God,” You moan, floating your head back onto your shoulders as you gradually rock your hips back to meet the maddening thrusts of his fingers. “Just…fucking do it.”

Joel’s fingers still inside you once more, shoved in all the way up to the webbing between them, as he bends over you, cupping your hip in his other hand and ghosting his lips over your ear. “I need you to be real sure, darlin’. ‘Cause once I start, once I feel this perfect pussy wrapped around my naked cock, I’m not gonna wanna stop.”

Joel twists and curls his fingers inside you, and your toes curl along with it as you gasp at the press of them against your sweetest spot. You swallow thickly again and affirm, “I’m sure that I wanna feel your bare cock inside me.”

Joel’s forehead makes a home between your shoulder blades, moaning as he places a kiss where his lips land on your spine, and grinding out a wrecked and reedy, “Fuck. Alright. Then daddy’ll fuck this cunt raw.”

You whimper as Joel’s fingertips massage at that spot inside you, his other hand coming around to circle your clit, all pretense of dragging out your pleasure abandoned.

“But I need to feel you come around my fingers again first, babygirl. Be a good girl for daddy.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, vestiges of your activities downstairs culminating with the torturous tease of his fingers winding you up for the last several minutes, and now the sweet, slippery, calloused drag of his skilled touch rubbing at your clit. All in all, it takes him less than thirty more seconds before you’re tiptoeing the edge.

“I-I’m—” The words don’t even have the opportunity to claw their way out of your mouth before you’re shattering on him for the second time this afternoon, pulsing around his fingers in a silent scream as he mutters the sweetest encouragements into your skin.

His hand is wet when he uses it to stroke down your side, squeezing and smacking your ass lightly as your legs tremble under you and you float back down to earth.

“That’s a good girl. All soaked and ready for my cock now, huh?”

As your brain cells continue relearning how to assemble words, you just nod, muttering some mottled version of yeah that sounds alien even to your own ears. But the incoherency makes him laugh, which makes you smile, and it helps ground you.

Joel takes his cock in hand and slicks it up with the wetness clinging to your folds, your stomach seizing when he grazes your sensitive clit. It sits between your lips as Joel leans over, rifling through his side table and coming up with a small bottle of lube.

When you protest slightly, he insists, “Just wanna make this feel as good as fuckin’ possible for you, baby. I know you’re already drenched. But you’ve seen how big daddy is. Need all the help we can get.”

He’s liberal with the lubrication, anointing your hole and his cock and lining himself up. And at the first light press, his size feels insurmountable. Skin stretching, pulling apart in every direction as his head makes room for itself. You whimper into the side of your arm, biting into the flesh as the pain flares.

“I know, baby,” He coos in your ear, his inching forward more akin to centimeters as he takes his time entering you. “Daddy’s real big, huh? Too much for this tight little pussy?”

“It’s just so…” Your words trail off in a moan as he slips further inside, almost fully seated within your walls. “God, it’s so fucking big.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Fuck no,” You gasp out, your hand reaching out to dig your nails into his hip to prevent him from retreating.

“Mmm,” He moans, sucking your lobe into his mouth and tugging with his teeth as he bottoms out inside you, feeling you clench around him as he brushes your cervix. “Knew you could take it all. Slutty little thing.”

“F-feels like I’m splitting in half,” You let out shakily, your fingers trembling where they indent his hip.

“Well,” Joel grunts out as he withdraws to the tip and pauses to whisper in your ear, “I guess good ol’ Trish was right,” and then slams the full length of him back into you again.

The scream you release grates against your vocal cords, has your fingernails threatening to pierce through the cotton of his duvet, has your knees sliding further apart on the bed, dropping your ass down. Firm hands dig into your hips and haul you back up just in time for Joel to fuck into you again. And again. And again. Until the rhythmic slapping together of your skin perpetuates the illusion in your mind that it’s failing to keep tempo with the sound of it reverberating off his bedroom walls. Or maybe your hearing is just failing you in favor of zeroing in on the stretch of Joel’s cock inside of you.

That must be it, because you don’t even realize that you’re still screaming, still shouting obscenities about his size, his pace, just him, until you register Joel in your ear, growling at you, “Yeah, let me fuckin’ hear it baby. Let me hear how you take it. How big is daddy’s cock inside you, babygirl? ‘S’it as big as you wanted?”

He must categorize your half-intelligible slurs of, “Yes, fuck, so fucking big, daddy please ,” as plenty satisfactory, because he just keeps going. One of his hands buries itself into the hair at your scalp and pulls, yanking your head up until your view shifts from pillows and sheets to stark white ceiling. A grunt pushes its way past your throat as the arch of your neck compresses your skin against your throat and Joel bottoms out inside you again, grazing the end of you in the most glorious, transcendent fashion.

“Shame there’s not someone in the next room over hearin’ what I’m doin’ to you, ain’t it?” Joel coos in your ear again, his thrusts going more liquid, like honey drizzling off its dipper into the jar. He slides languidly inside you to the hilt, dragging out with the suction of sweet molasses luring him back in. It devastates you in an entirely new way, has you hanging off his words with blanching fingertips. “Though, I’d wager you’re screamin’ loud enough to perk up some ears in the houses down the street.”

You moan at the thought, at the notion of people hearing Joel destroy you just like you overheard him doing to your neighbor. Right now, you couldn’t give a shit if the entire world knew how good this man is making you feel. Your friends, your family, the goddamn Pope for all you care. Just as long as he keeps fucking you like this.

You are absolutely, without a sliver of a doubt, irrefutably positive that you have never felt this full. Despite Trish’s own words, god bless her, you never could have prepared yourself for the battering ram that is Joel’s cock ravishing your cunt. In your experience, dicks of any size can be fulfilling; dicks of any size can be unfulfilling. But heaven help you, Joel has the length, the girth, and the motion down pat. Throw on top the scintillating monologue of filth spilling into your ear like the sweetest poison, and goddamn it, this man could have you professing your love for him within the hour.

“Love this fuckin’ pussy, baby. So goddamn tight around me. Tell me how it feels,” He growls through his teeth as he steps up his pace again, your head jostling with the thrusting of his hips and the strands of your hair stinging at the back of your skull.

“So perfect. So fucking perfect. Love your cock, daddy,” You sob, your hair slipping through Joel’s fingers and your head falling forward as he releases his grip, instead wrapping his hand at the slope of your shoulder into your neck to pull you backward into his pistoning hips.

“‘S it big? ‘S it as big as you wanted when you heard me fuckin’ someone else with it?”

“Yes, daddy! So big. Bigger than I ever could’ve—oh god ,” You cut yourself off as Joel hits you so fucking right inside, and suddenly words aren’t so doable anymore.

And for the first time in your life, you think a man is going to make you come three times in a single day. Hell, in an hour. A man you just fucking met, a man who 48 hours ago was nothing more than a velvety hum and a few dirty words on the other side of your wall. And now he’s made a space for himself inside your body, coaxing orgasms out of you as easily as he had you calling him “daddy”.

“Daddy, I’m-I’m gonna fucking come again,” You whine, and Joel is already sliding the hand on your hip in between your legs, circling your throbbing clit with his fingers.

“Little cunt is putty in my fuckin’ hands, huh, babygirl? Don’t matter what I give you–my mouth, my fingers, my cock–just a thirsty little bitch for any piece of me you can get. Come on, come for me again, darlin’. Come for your daddy. All over his big fuckin’ cock.”

With that, your eyes roll back as your pussy spasms around his hard length, your body convulsing as his fingers tease out your release from you. The pummelling of his dick inside your cunt, the magic of his touch on your sensitive clit has your orgasm seeming to float through every vein in your body, not stopping until it’s fried every one of your nerve endings in the process.

“Oh, fuck, baby. That’s–god, pussy feels too fuckin’ good,” He grits out, fingers and cock still doing their due diligence to draw out your pleasure as long as possible. “Tell me to come in this fuckin’ cunt.”

You whimper, nodding your head rapidly as your high finally starts to fizzle out and the pounding of his dick increases in intensity as he approaches his own climax.

“Uh-uh, I need to hear it, babygirl. Tell me to come in this stretched-out little cunt,” He grunts out, his voice going a little breathy as he struggles to stem his release.

“P-please, daddy! Please come in my little pussy, fucking need it so bad,” You sputter out, using what energy you have left to throw yourself back onto his cock.

Joel groans deep from his chest as his hips snap forward once, twice more before he’s shooting his load inside your already dripping, waiting cunt. Joel’s mouth descends on your shoulder, his teeth burrowing into the skin as his cock pulses.

Your racing heart begins to slow as the moments pass, Joel’s mouth unearthing from the craters excavated in your flesh, sucking lazy, soothing kisses to the impressions. You hum at the calming slide of his mouth, his cock softening but staying put right where you’re convinced it belongs for the rest of the day.

You let out a little squeak when Joel nips playfully at your shoulder, knocking your head against Joel’s as you mutter with a lighthearted grin, “Eat your heart out, Trish.”

Joel breathes out a laugh, capturing your lips in a lazy, sloppy kiss. Strong hands wind around your waist and pull you back against him, Joel sitting on his heels with his length still buried inside you and your heads craning to savor the afterglow.

“You’re somethin’ else,” He mumbles into your mouth, hand sneaking up to squeeze at your tit.

“As long as I’m something,” You tease back, intertwining your fingers with his over your breast.

“I’d really like to do this again.”

“I would too.”

“Might not even have to take my cock out of this glorious little pussy in the meantime.”

You laugh a little, nestling your forehead into the curve of his neck. “I meant more like…I’d like to do this whole thing again. In the future.”

He tilts his head toward you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Joel affirms his hold on you and plants a kiss on your head. “I like the sound of that too.”

You stay there, secure in his arms, his spend pooling where he’s lodged inside you. You gradually feel him harden once more and you fall onto your back, letting him unravel you all over again on his cock. Taking you a little slower this time, a little longer, fucking his come back into you with each heavy stroke and smearing it over his shaft, into the tufts of hair at his base, dripping down his balls. And after he brings you to orgasm a toe-curling, limb-tingling fourth time, he makes you tell him again. Tell him to spill himself into your body, fill you up with more than just his paralyzing length. And this time he spreads open your thighs, watches as you push it out of your ravaged hole onto his disheveled bedding, and showers you with praise.

You lie sated and exhausted on his bed as he wipes between your legs with a damp cloth and settles down next to you, pulling your back into his chest and draping his chin over your shoulder. Your bones relax into him as his breathing balances.

“That was… the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. No contest,” You finally admit, at risk of it going straight to his head.

“Me too,” He reciprocates, inhaling deeply as he squeezes around you. “All that fuckin’ kismet,” He chuckles in your ear.

You hum, unable to wipe the smile from your face as his breath dances over you. As he kisses down your neck, you sigh. “Remind me to send Trish a fruit basket.”

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notjustjavierpena · 5 months

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Where I'm Supposed To Be, a husband!Javier Christmas fic

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Here’s my Christmas present for you all. I wrote this with blood, sweat and tears. I love you. Thank you for giving me such a wonderful opportunity to make myself, and everyone who reads my work, happy due to a silly, little, fictional family. Thanks to @javiscigarette and @joels-shitty-puns for being amazing and caring ❤️ and obviously thank you @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for being my sweet Spanish tutor 😭🙏

Summary: Just Christmas morning with the Peñas. Lots of chaotic and sweet children but also some alone time between you and your husband who very much has a present for you this morning.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, domestic life, three children being cute, unwrapping of gifts on Christmas morning, dancing to the radio, butterflies, being courted by javi, some rough pussy eating (javi is a cunning linguist and a fucking menace), nose riding, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praises and pet names, rough sex, kitchen sex, lactation kink, tit play, bit of breeding kink. creampie, they are gross and in love, absolutely married to each other

Word count: 7.1k!!!!!

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52364101

Where I’m Supposed To Be

Your eyes open wide as soon as you feel the weight of two children in your bed, and the realization of what day it is comes to mind. Since you are lying on your side, facing your husband, you watch the same shock settle in him as his own slumber is interrupted. Javier is lying on his stomach, hugging his pillow tightly, and when Inés starts jumping up and down at the foot of the bed, he shoots up to look around with a confused expression. You smile as he catches your eye. He yawns back at you.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Inés’ squeaky voice announces. She sounds out of breath from jumping continuously, “It’s Christmas!”

The whole bed shakes. Lucas has joined in on the jumping, a contrast to his usually so well-behaved and calm manner, but you remember the magic excitement that Christmas brought along when you were a kid yourself.

You yawn loudly to tease, turning onto your back. Inés barely survives the way you drag out waking up properly.

“Alright!” You sit up in bed with a little smile, letting your hands come down on top of the covers, “We’re up.”

“I’m not,” Javier grumbles into his pillow. Inés takes it as an opportunity to jump on her father’s back, sitting down on him with a knee on either side of his torso. You can hear the air being knocked from Javier’s lungs and can’t help but smile fully now, fighting a belly laugh as your insistent daughter starts tugging at his hair and shoulders.

“Come on, Mom!” Lucas begs too but without bordering on violence. He grabs at your hand to pull it, and you throw the covers to the side to let him lead you out of bed.

“I’m coming, mijo (my son),” you say and slip on a t-shirt that you have laid out the day before; there’s been a fair amount of Christmas mornings at this point but with Inés getting older, and thus more steadfast in her personality, you have resorted to creating a system that you hope neither of your kids has realized exists.

When Inés sees you out of bed, she quickly abandons her father at the realization of your willingness. Javier takes in a deep breath as he loses her weight on top of himself, imitating the sound of someone falling asleep again. You’ll let him for now; after all, he’s been the one up all night to arrange the presents so it looks like Santa came to visit.

“I have to check on Seb first,” you inform their hopeful faces. Inés groans and even Lucas looks like he might join in but you don’t give in to being rushed, simply shrugging, “If you are quiet, he won’t wake up and it’ll be quicker.”

You grab the baby monitor from your nightstand and then your kids follow you down the hallway of family photos to Sebastian’s nursery. Your baby is sleeping soundly when all three of you enter ever so quietly, a sign of contentment and feeling safe, and you don’t dare reach out to touch him in case he is disturbed from his sleep, even despite him being the easiest one of all three, so often off to dreamland that you have had Javier needing to reassure you.

You stare down at Sebastian for a few moments. He has his arms above his head, hands squeezed into fists and his little mouth slightly agape. You can feel yourself being overcome with emotion as both Lucas and Inés observe their little brother’s slumber with you, and with such understanding in their eyes that you wish you could take a picture of them. They have all of their hands clutched around the railing of the crib to peek down at the baby.

“Mom,” Lucas whispers without taking his eyes off Sebastian, “Can we please go see our presents?”

“Pleeeeease,” Inés follows.

“Okaaaay, let’s go,” you whisper back.

You leave the bedroom with the baby monitor in your hand and Inés hand clutched in your other, only to hold her in place in case she wants to run down the stairs.

Both your kids’ eyes go wide as they enter the living room. There are several differently sized and shaped presents underneath the lit-up Christmas tree, sporting extravagant bows and wrapping paper designs. You know that none of them are for you but you’ll relish in your children’s faces as they run towards the pile.

“Steady now,” you say as you place the baby monitor on the coffee table, “Everything has led up to this, I know, but we don’t want it to be over in a few minutes, do we? Let’s do one at a t—“

“But Santa’s been!” Inés shrieks in delight. Lucas looks at you, only seven years old and not convinced, and you wink at him only to receive a little smile. He looks pleased with himself, sharing a secret with his mother.

“Really? How do you know he has?” You say animatedly. It’s obvious, she tells you, look at the presents, but you distract her from ripping each of them open by walking up to gape at the empty plate and glass that are on the coffee table, gasping for show as if to imitate your daughter, “Inés! You’re right! Look!”

Inés whips around, darting towards you. She stares in shock. Lucas seems a little impatient, hovering around a big present that is for him, so you hold out your hand and call him over to look at the Santa-evidence too.

He walks around the coffee table to lean against you instead, and you rest a hand on the back of his neck. You gently run your fingers through his hair, whispering to him as Inés lifts the plate to look underneath it.

“You’re the best big brother, sweetie,” you mutter and repeat the move, smoothing his bed hair. He leans into you further.

“Look! All gone!” Inés parrots as she stares at the cookies that are nowhere to be found. Neither on or under the plate.

Lucas still doesn’t look very convinced. In the future, you’ll tell him about the sugary kiss his father planted on your cheek when crawling into bed after eating cookies and drinking milk at three in the morning - and his preteen self will crinkle his nose in disgust.

Speaking of your husband, Javier enters the living room silently so as to not disturb Inés’ hunt for clues. He has put on a t-shirt that hangs over his boxers, looking beautifully disheveled, and you smile like a schoolgirl when he looks at you happily.

“Is there anything else? Did he just leave behind all those great big presents?” You still talk excitedly, grinning as your daughter’s eyes scan the floor and ceiling.

She continues to the fireplace, pointing out the small amount of soot mixed with glitter that you’ve spread out on the wooden floor, “He’s been! Look, Mommy!”

“Wow!” Javier now chimes in. Inés recognises his voice instantly and she runs to her father the second that she hears him. Javier picks her up from the ground with the groan of a father to settle her on his hip. He kisses her cheek repeatedly until he blows a raspberry, “He did all that for you?”

Inés giggles like only a child can. You want to melt. She claps excitedly, “All for me.”

“You must’ve been very good this year, mija (my daughter),” he says, ruffling her already messy hair. She shies away from it but throws her arms around his neck as soon as he has stopped, burying her head in his shoulder.

Lucas shifts impatiently but he doesn’t say anything.

“You want to open a present?” You whisper to him.

“Can I?” He whispers back with wide eyes.

“They still have a few clues to go through, outside even,” you crouch down to kiss his cheek from behind, hugging him close to you, “If you want to, I’ll let you. I’ll choose though.”

In the background, Javier catches on. He places Inés back down on the floor, holding out his hand for her and winking at his son whilst talking to his daughter, “Do you want to see if Rudolph ate the carrots you laid out for him on the doorstep?”

Inés, completely ignoring the offered hand, starts running towards the front door whilst naming other reindeer too. It’s Texan Christmas, so there’s no point in putting on a jacket for going outside, and the sudden silence of the front door closing behind her and Javier makes you strike.

You let go of Lucas to get his present from under the tree, searching only briefly as if you’re choosing something random. There’s a point to this but you don’t want to take out the magic of the moment.

Lucas sits down on the floor as he is handed the gift. He doesn’t hesitate to tear its wrappings off, and when he throws it to the side, he gasps at the sight of his very own brand new Game Boy that you have wrapped along with a few games. It’s a strategic move to let him open it now; Inés won’t try to steal it in the middle of Christmas family time if she isn’t aware of him getting it.

“No way!” Lucas’ eyes are wide. He holds the Game Boy in its packaging in front of himself, not taking his eyes off of it in case it might disappear if he looks away, “Mom!”

“It’s the one you wanted, right?” You ask, rubbing his back and looking down at the cover over his shoulder, “Lord knows if I have a clue about what it does.”

“This is so cool,” he says, mostly to himself, and then looks up at you with a wide grin that reminds you that he is his father’s son, “Thanks, Mom!”

“But I need you to wait to use it till after Inés is done with her presents, okay? I know you’re excited but you’ll have the whole day, no?”

“Entiendo, (I understand),” he nods, getting up from the floor very carefully as he still has the Game Boy in his hands, “¿ Lo tengo que compartir? (do I have to share it?)

“You might have to share it sometimes but it’s yours first and foremost,” you say with a little smile, “I think Inés might just want to see you play and then you can let her try it a few times. If it’s too much, we’ll figure something out.”

Lucas hugs you then, tightly and lovingly. He buries his head in your stomach and he doesn’t have to say anything because you know exactly what he wants to say with his embrace. It’s enough to make you choke up a second time today.

When Javier and Inés return back inside the living room, Inés talking loudly, Javier gets a pair of scissors and a bag for the wrappings from the kitchen. You quickly add Lucas’ gift wrap to it to conceal any evidence of having started without Inés.

“Mom! Rudolph ate the carrots we laid out!” She beams.

“He didn’t!” You walk up to her to make it seem like you are listening even more actively. You lean down over her with your hands on your thighs, feeling Javier’s eyes on you as you bend over, “Oh boy, I’m glad you remembered to feed them so Santa could reach all the kids without them getting tired and hungry.”

“Can we open presents now?” She inquires, falling to her knees in front of the Christmas tree. She looks back at you, suddenly very serious, “Are there any presents for Sebastian?”

“Yes, Sebastian has a few presents too,” you reply.

It takes her a moment to think this fact over. She furrows her brow in concentration, going over the logistics of an infant opening Christmas gifts. Eventually, she stares at you and places a hand on her chest, “I— I will open Sebastian’s presents.”

You want to laugh and in the background, Javier actually does, “You can help Lucas open the presents for him.”

Lucas sits on the floor beside Inés but closer to the tree. He seems less anxious to begin now that he’s had a head start on his little sister so he reaches under the tree to find a present with her name on it, checking in with his father who nods and lets him proceed.

Inés eyes go wide as the gift is put down on the floor in front of her, and Javier moves to help her with cutting the ribbon. You take a seat on the couch to watch the scene unfold, her eyes practically sparkling with excitement as receives her first Christmas gift; a stuffed toy resembling a dinosaur that she keeps tucked under her arm during the whole thing.

The rest of the unwrapping session goes with you letting out a series of oohs and aahs as each toy, which you have picked out yourself at the toy store, is revealed. It’s all a blur of plastic and noises, cries for batteries and Javier shushing his daughter when her pitch climbs a little too high.

Lucas is in charge of handing out gifts, and you praise him for each card that he reads out loud successfully. Whenever he tries reaching for a certain gift for Inés, Javier shakes his head, and he moves on to the next despite the curiosity nearly killing him.

Steadily, both Inés and Lucas each have a growing pile of toys, clothes, and snacks beside them.

Lucas receives, amongst other things, a pair of light-up shoes that he has begged for months to get. He also gets a wooden tow truck with four magnetic cars and an unbelievable stack of Pokemon cards.

Inés gets a few puzzles, markers, a microphone that makes an echo when you speak into it (a toy that might just disappear out of the blue with no explanation), and a collection of animal stickers.

Lucas looks overwhelmed by the end. Inés looks far from done, so she is the one who gets to unwrap Sebastian’s new mobile with small UFOs and cows on it, a pair of cute shoes, and a hat to match.

Finally, Lucas gets the green light from his father to grab the mysterious present. He looks like someone who wants to tear off the paper so he can satisfy his curiosity but Inés is already beating him to it. There’s an anticipation of it being the final stages of the unwrapping process that hangs in the air, and everything is going well until your daughter crinkles her nose at the sight of what she has received from Santa.

“Mom,” she starts to say, cogs turning in her head. She turns to you, looking skeptical. Inside the package is a helmet, more specifically a bike helmet, in a soft green color with daisies painted onto it in a pattern not too harsh on the eyes.

Lucas catches on a little quicker, “She’s getting a bike?!”

“A bike!” Inés yells out, standing up quickly, “Where? Wherewherewhere?”

“Inés, por favor (please),” you can’t help but laugh at her excited shock, “Let Papá get it for you.”

And moments later, Javier wheels a bike, so tiny that it is cute, into the living room. Its color matches the green on her new helmet, and on the handles hang white tassels with yellow flecks of glitter in them. The also has training wheels on it but with the amount of unrelenting bravery and determination that Inés has for new things, you doubt that she will be needing them for long.

Inés has gone quiet as she stares at her new bicycle which is very much not like the one without pedals she has. She gapes at it and it makes you and Javier exchange looks. Javier shrugs.

“Inés,” you start but you are interrupted by your daughter’s infectious laughter. She jumps on the spot, yanking at the handle and pulling it towards herself. You let out a sigh of relief, warmth flooding your heart at hearing her.

“I want to try it now!” She demands, giggling happily as she runs her hands through the tassels.

“We can do it after breakfast, Daddy will take you out for a test drive,” you say, getting up from the couch to crouch down beside her. You admire the bike with her, continuing your reasoning when she starts to protest, “One should never try to learn how to ride a bike without having breakfast. Not even the coolest girls can do that.”

“I can!” She argues. In the background, Lucas turns his back to the three of you to sneak a peek at his Game Boy.

“Actually, mija (my daughter),” Javier interjects. He opens the box containing the biking helmet, pulls it out, and walks over to his daughter, “Bike racers need to try out their helmets for at least an hour or two to break them in and to make sure they fit. Imagine if you got onto the bike and your helmet wouldn’t let you ride it.”

Inés furrows her brow but doesn’t look like she’s about to argue with her father’s logic. She glances at the bike and then at the helmet in Javier’s hands, quickly coming to a decision.

“I want to wear the helmet!” She says.

“Excellent choice,” he replies and you snort.

Inés proudly wears the helmet a few seconds later. You wonder how you are going to get her dressed for going outside with it on her head but you suppose you’ll pass the task to Javier.

“Wait,” Lucas says suddenly, crawling underneath the tree to reach far underneath it. A small present rests along the foot of the tree, and he pulls it out only to find that there’s no card on it. He furrows his brow, “There’s one left.”

Inés looks nearly hungry for more.

Javier turns, obviously not expecting this.

“Actually,” you say and make Lucas hand it over. Holding the gift close to your chest, you walk up to Javier, “This one is for Daddy.”

“Me?” Javier looks puzzled but then he smirks, as if he has decided something that you aren’t a part of yet. You feel your heart skip a beat as all three of you catch onto the mischief in his eyes. If only you knew that mischief is just for you. He snatches the present from you and shakes it.

“It’s just something silly,” you say, “But it’s for work!”

Inés and Lucas are watching curiously, standing on their toes so they don’t miss anything.

“Rip it, Dad,” Lucas encourages.

“Yeah!” Inés chimes in, holding onto her helmet as she tips her head. You’ll have to adjust it.

“Alright, I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” he does as he is told, letting the wrapping paper fall into a pile on the floor, beside the garbage bag that he has brought himself, and reveals a hideous, rolled-up tie with a Christmas theme. It is dark red with tiny cartoon Christmas lights and trees, crisscrossing across the silky fabric. It’s ugly, for sure, but it makes Javier’s face light up like he can’t quite believe that he has reached this destination; a life of kids and silly Christmas presents, and exactly where he is supposed to be.

“That’s boring!” Inés complains.

“Mija (My daughter), that’s not very nice,” Javi tuts, smoothing a thumb over his present. He grins boyishly at you, and when he approaches you, he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a squeeze, “I love it.”

“You don’t have to wear it,” you reassure.

“I might just. The guys know I’m happily married to a catch like you so why shouldn’t I show it off?” He holds it up in front of himself, “How do I look?”

“Silly,” Inés argues. Lucas grimaces behind her.

You raise a brow, biting your lower lip as you grin, “You wouldn’t.”

“Sí. Gracias, mi amor (yes. Thank you, my love),” he kisses you in front of your kids, and both of them make disgusted faces. Inés even adds a gagging noise, saying something about cooties.

Javier doesn’t let go of you when he turns his head towards them. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “Hey, you behave or I might do it again.”

“No!” They shout in unison.

“I should’ve gotten you something,” Javier says as he turns towards you again. You shake your head but then you feel his hand on your back travel down, “Maybe later.”

Quickly, you pull back.

“Right,” you say, clasping your hands together and trying not to sound flustered, “Let’s say two hours tops. Then we’ll have breakfast together. Hot chocolate and all.”

When the gift rush comes to an end, Javier starts carrying all of the shiny new toys upstairs with a groan. He scolds gently as he has two tiny and enthusiastic humans bounding up the stairs, telling them to be careful.

Meanwhile, you head to the kitchen and turn on the radio. You place the baby monitor on the counter, humming along as you prepare a sugary breakfast that you always regret afterward when you have to endure two sugar-high children.

As you are toasting bread and filling bowls with candy canes and marshmallows, Javier enters the kitchen. You smile to yourself as he wraps his arms around you from behind, placing a kiss on your neck, “Morning. I put a movie on, so they’ll be occupied by that and their presents for a while now. Checked on Seb too, he’s fine.”

“That went well,” you say genuinely, “Don’t you think?”

“Mhm, the unwrapping? Definitely,” he murmurs against your ear, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “They didn’t even notice how I was staring at you.”

“How were you staring at me?” You ask, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“No particular way,” he teases and you try to concentrate on cutting fruit into smaller pieces.

In the background, a slow melody hums through the kitchen. Javier’s hands wander down to settle on your hips, and you finally allow yourself to let go of the knife, give in, and turn around in his arms.

“Merry Christmas,” you smile.

“Dance with me,” he replies.

You walk further into his embrace, linking your arm around his waist and resting your chin on his shoulder. He entwines your fingers and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as he sways with you in time with the song on the radio.

As he moves you, your heads lean together, cheeks touching gently, and he radiates warmth and security. It makes you close your eyes and sigh softly, allowing yourself to be transported into a fantasy where you aren’t just wearing your underwear and a washed-out t-shirt.

The hand that isn’t holding yours rests on your lower back, pulling you in after he twirls you once. You giggle when he beams at you but then you resume the first position, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, slowly turning, whilst Javier’s mouth rests just below your temple.

And then you feel his nose brush against the side of your face as if he is starting to pull away, and a desperate voice inside of you wants to protest but the logical one tells you to go with the flow. The tip of his nose is warm even against your flushing skin, and by instinct, you pull away slightly to admire the gorgeous curve of it up close. Javier interrupts by kissing you instead. He captures your lips in the most drawn-out hot kiss, pouring with desire and devotion.

“Tell me you love me like I love you,” you plea breathlessly.

“I love you like you love me,” he tells you without hesitation, squeezing your hand, “Y les quiero a Lucas y Inés y Sebastian (and I love Lucas and Inés and Sebastian).”

You respond by kissing him again, just about to slide your tongue across his lips and into his mouth when the song ends.

He reluctantly lets go of you. However, instead of helping you cook breakfast, he starts moving things from one side of the kitchen table to the other; out of your reach.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You start to protest.

“Let’s make another,” he suddenly says.

“Another?” You furrow your brow in confusion.

“A fourth one,” he explains as he stands in front of you, making you bump into the counter, “Un bebito (a little baby). Right now.”

“Jesus, Javi,” you can feel his fingers dig into the waistband of your underwear. Blood goes to your core incredibly fast, “Sebastian is four months old.”

“If we start trying now…” His fingers start dragging the fabric down over your ass and thighs, “We’ll have one by next Christmas.”

“We can’t go at it right here,” you scold but don’t try to stop him. Instead, you step out of your underwear as they pool around your feet.

“I told you,” he reminds you, already sinking to his knees with a self-satisfied look on his face, “That I put on a movie. They won’t even hear you.”

You lean your ass against the counter and then dare to hook a leg over his shoulder whilst balancing on the other. One hand grips the edge of the counter and the other rests on top of his hair, fingers threading through it as you wait patiently for him to put his mouth on you.

“This your present then?” You tease him, yanking to make him look up at you.

“I think we’re both getting too much out of it to call it your present,” he points out. His eyes go down to stare right between your thighs and you find yourself clenching around nothing as arousal threatens to drip down your thighs, “Joder (fuck), look at you. Can I have it now?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. Your teasing has ceased after hearing him swear from just watching your quivering pussy. You swallow thickly, a breath hitching in your throat as Javier’s hand slides up the back of the leg you are standing on until it rests on the back of your thigh. He squeezes and you hold your breath, “Please.”

He looks up at you through his lashes, no mischief to be found but rather absolute worship, as he closes his mouth around you, velvety tongue sliding between your folds to lap at your clit. You tighten the grip on his hair as heat flows through your lower body, your mouth falling open in a soft gasp.

“I can’t stand still,” you half-laugh whilst he eats you. Each pulse of your heart can be felt in your clit, which he sucks and laps at until you can’t breathe. He knows how to make you come so fast that blood drains from your head to your cunt and thighs and makes you keen.

“Then don’t, mi amor (my love),” he says matter-of-factly as he pulls back to breathe, hair a mess and chin shiny with your slick, “Fuck yourself onto me, Momma, I know you love that.”

You instantly curl your toes at the suggestion. Javier dives back in, lowers his head slightly to tease your slit with the tip of his filthy tongue. God, the way he can roll those Rs, calling you his love in his mother tongue, translates so well into this. Coming on his face from your own doing? Yes, that’s exactly what you want.

Without thinking it over much more, you tighten the leg that you slung over Javier’s shoulder earlier around him. With a hand in his hair and the other one tightly around the edge of the kitchen table, you move until Javier’s tongue is sliding inside of you and his nose catches your clit. It sends pleasure rocking down your spine, your pulse spiking instantly as you start working yourself toward orgasm.

“Fuck,” you groan while moving on him, rolling your hips. Your balance is off like this but Javier slides the hand on your thigh up to splay his palm across your side. You lean your body’s weight into his hand and use the support to press harder into his nose, feeling the flutters of an orgasm approaching as the curve of it slides up and down your clit just as you would do it if you were touching yourself, “I’m gonna- ah, gonna come. Fuck, you make me come so hard! Ah–”

Javier makes a satisfied noise against you, stiffening his tongue to let you use it even more. You don’t even need to have him speaking, know that he would tell you to give it to me, and when you finally tip over the edge, you feel him pulling your hand from the kitchen table to entwine your fingers.

“Fuck, Javi, fuckfuckfuck, baby, don’t stop,” you pant, squeezing his hand so hard that a fleeting thought makes you worry if you might break bone. You ride his tongue, his nose, and come so hard that you make him whimper as you pull at his hair.

He doesn’t let you go when it dies down. Instead, he slowly rises from the floor and lifts you along with him due to your leg still being slung over his shoulder and back. His mouth doesn’t leave you, even when he falters briefly, as he settles you down on the counter.

You want to scream but even a movie cannot drown out the noise building in your throat, so you cover your mouth with your free hand. Something besides you falls over, you knock your head into the kitchen cabinets and whereas Javier would’ve checked in on you, he eats your cunt so enthusiastically that you can feel your body wanting to come again.

The whine you let out is sinful with how much you struggle to muffle it. You reach for Javier’s hair but he catches your wrist and pins it down against the tabletop. When you try to reach for it again, this time with your other hand, he does the same until you can’t take the slightest bit of control.

He makes you come again in less than a minute. It is earth-shattering, causing you to throw your head back and bump it into the cabinet once more. You thrash and cry, burning with pleasure as he hollows his cheeks from sucking your clit.

You start giggling from the dopamine, knowing it’s a better way to get out noise than crying for him. Your legs twitch as he devours the wetness you spill into his mouth.

Finally, he removes his mouth from your sticky mess of a cunt and kisses up under your loose t-shirt until you can’t see his face anymore. He smears your slick across your belly, resting his head just above your belly button, and chuckles.

“You’re so,” you begin but you don’t know how to finish the sentence. He lets you move your hands again and you proceed to pet the top of his head through the fabric of your shirt.

“Sexy? Devoted? ¿Loco por ti (crazy about you)?” His breathing is uneven.

“I was going to call you a goof,” you correct him, lifting the shirt up to reveal him again. When he lifts his head to roll his eyes at you, you use the hem of your shirt to wipe his mouth and thus make him grimace.

“What a mom-move,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you laugh.

“I did mean it,” he adds, stretching and placing a palm on the counter on either side of your body, “I’ll cut down on work. I’ll be home more with you and the kids. Just until everything falls into place. We could get a babysitter.”

“Javi—“

“I think it could work,” he interrupts, “And if we want any more - kids, I mean - I feel like we should do it now and not wait.”

“Javi,” you reach up to cup his face gently. There’s no need for this conversation now, and there’s no doubt that you want to give him many more children if he wants. Technicalities can be discussed further down the road, and Inés is somewhat already counting for two kids so how should you not be able to handle a fourth? You kiss his lips, keeping your noses touching when you pull back again, “Just fuck me, baby. We can talk about it later.”

“Right,” he blinks his puppy eyes away.

You hungrily watch him pull his cock free from his boxers before stepping between your legs which you wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and moving yourself forward to the edge of the kitchen table. You are itching to feel him inside of you, your body feeling like it is missing something after going this long since you started to feel turned on.

“Please,” you whine.

“Relax,” he orders simply as he aligns his hips with yours. The sweet voice from before is gone and there’s no doubt that he’ll start speaking filth soon. You obey and go back to leaning against the cabinets, eyes half-lidded with lust as he runs the head of his cock through your folds in a way that has you whimpering with how sensitive you are.

When you get impatient, you reach down to guide the tip where you want it and shudder as he dips inside of you. He holds your gaze but as you want to look down at where the two of you are connected, he reaches for your chin with a shaky hand. You pant, eyes looking up as he forces your head up again.

“That’s it,” he praises, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger while moving forward and pushing into you. Your brows furrow at the stretch of your sensitive cunt but you still manage to hold his gaze despite wanting to close your eyes, and it earns you another praise, “Good girl, thaaat’s it, you focus on me, focus right here.”

When you smile sweetly at his words, he starts moving inside of you. The first roll of his hips makes your mind go blank and your noises climb in pitch. He fucks you against the counter, broad hands sliding up the back of your thighs to rest against the small of your back. It’s relentless, it’s desperate and it’s incredibly hot.

You settle your hands on his biceps, holding on for dear life as he thrusts hard enough to make your touching skin smack with each movement. You look up at the ceiling briefly, wondering if the moans you are letting out can be heard by your kids because Javier’s cock is hitting something inside of you that makes you want to sob.

“El ruido (the noise)— shit, d-don’t worry about it,” Javier notices your mind drifting to concern, and so he slows down slightly to catch your attention. He kisses your lips between each word and drinks each noise you make from your mouth, “You sound so beautiful for me, amor. Forget about them, they’re fine.”

You nod repeatedly, whining feeble okays when he goes back to the harder thrusts from before, making you grab at his muscles until it’s not enough anymore and you have to dig your nails into them. His harshness makes your full tits bounce underneath the t-shirt too, and you let them until you know what’s coming; the happy chemicals in your body provoke it so often this time around.

You cover your breasts with your palms and squeeze until you feel your pussy flutter, somehow creating a direct line to your pulsing, untouched clit. You follow it up by tugging slightly on your nipples too, all the while you repeat Javier’s name as if to get his attention, as if to say it in prayer. His gaze drops and his eyes nearly roll back into his skull as you start soaking through your shirt with milk.

“You filthy girl,” he growls, “Pull it up for me. Lemme see.”

“Fuck, I— I think I’m close,” you half-moan and half-giggle, yanking your t-shirt up and watching the steady trickle of your milk. The way that Javier watches makes your cunt want to pull him in further but you don’t think he can go any deeper, so instead you hold him tightly with your legs so he can only grind roughly into you.

Your stomach flips as Javier’s expert tongue laps at a trail of milk. He sucks along the streak it has already made until he can close his lips, swollen from kisses, around your nipple. When he sucks, you almost cry for your maker and you swear that you can hear how much wetter you get.

“Where was this for my cookies last night, huh, Momma?” He asks with milk-stained lips and a smirk, cock touching inside of you just how you want it.

“You’re so - fuck, baby, I’m gonna come soon - you’re so gross,” your eyes close, your belly tightens and so you concentrate to get there, “What wouldn’t Santa think? Cookies and breast milk?”

Javier laughs genuinely at that and you moan at the feeling of him being inside of you whilst doing it. He shifts so that his hands end up flat against the counter, underneath your knees, and he can lean into you further, “Watch it. Maybe Santa’s a kinky fucker like your husband.”

“My husband,” you repeat as if it’s turning you on just to refer to him like that. Even after years.

“Fuck yes, I’m your husband. Wife,” Javier aims to kiss you hard but the strain on his body to make you come makes him press his lips to your jaw. He continues upwards, mouthing along your chin and cheek. He speaks with ragged breath into the corner of your open mouth.

“Listen to you,” he pants as you reel with pleasure, sweat collecting at his brow. He is concentrating too but he still manages to tease, “Who are you making those pretty noises for?”

“Para tí (for you),” you moan with furrowed eyebrows, “Sólo para tí, Javi (only for you, Javi).”

“I know— fuck, I know, baby, oh fuck, I can feel you,” he gasps as you clench around him without warning. Everything snaps and then launches into overwhelming spasms that overtake your whole lower body, clenching and unclenching in waves of pleasure. You sob as you come a third time this morning, arms falling to the counter and thighs trembling as you ride it out.

Javier looks like he is in awe as he always does. His pace picks up to near his own peak, and he kisses your mouth before going down your chin, neck, and shoulder, “You’re going to be the death of me, mi amor. You and this pretty pussy… So good at taking my come and making me a Papá.”

You can only cry feebly as he drives his cock in and out of you. The sound sends him into a frenzy, and he makes you whimper at the feeling of him coming inside of your cunt. He twitches with oversensitivity and pulses with each spurt of his warm seed, his breath is shaky and his forehead is against yours. His skin is burning hot, flushing with the way that his heart is hammering in his chest as he contorts his face with a groan of pleasure. It goes on for a moment until he slumps, head falling to your shoulder instead.

Javier chuckles against the damp and hot skin of your neck from dopamine, pressing a long open-mouthed kiss to it and glancing down at your chest that still heaves for breath. Your gray shirt still sits above your tits and it clings to your body from how it’s been soaked through by your milk. Javier reaches out to circle a flushed nipple with the pad of his thumb, causing your body to shiver.

“Stop,” you moan through post-coital bliss, not able to do much but rest against the kitchen cabinets. It almost feels like you want to cry in his arms, “Too sensitive.”

Javier removes his hand, “Sorry, mi vida (my life). You okay?”

“Mejoramos cada vez, ¿no? (We get better each time, no?)” You smile lazily.

He hums in response, agreeing. With his palms flat on the counter, he catches your mouth in a long kiss and you reach up to cup the back of his head. The hair there is sweaty, creating a patch on his shirt right around his neck.

You want to drown in him, not letting him pull all the way back when he breaks the kiss for air. He rests his nose against your cheek and exhales deeply, “We can’t stay here forever. I gotta fucking sit down too.”

“I need to finish breakfast,” you mumble with your eyes closed as if you’re in the state of being able to do that.

“What you need is a shower,” Javier laughs, kissing the corner of your mouth. He sighs deeply as he stretches to his full height, stepping away from you to let you jump down, “I’ll finish up here. Disinfect the counter, maybe. Then I’ll shower after you.”

You look at the clock on the kitchen wall before hopping down, “We have a little more than an hour.”

“Think we can manage,” he shrugs.

You put on the underwear that Javier discarded you of earlier, snapping the elastic as you pull them up over your hips. Javier grins at you, not hiding the way that he is eyeing you up as he puts on his own underwear.

“Wash your hands too, yes?” You tease, leaving him in the kitchen to watch your ass when your back is turned.

“Yes, Mom,” he calls after you.

You try to ignore the feeling of come dripping into your panties as you walk up the stairs, grimacing to yourself and quickly throwing them in the wash along with your shirt when you get into the bathroom.

The shower spray feels amazing against your skin but nothing feels as good as when you hear Javier talking to Sebastian further down the hall as he gets him out of bed. Even better when you hear him burst the door open to the kids’ playroom, Inés giggling and Lucas following behind as he makes a remark about them being up to something.

“Who wants to help me and Sebastian make pancakes?” Javier asks. When you close your eyes, you can see Inés and Lucas’ hands shoot up and then you hurry to finish so you can join them as soon as possible. You’ve never given it any real thought but you find that you, too, are exactly where you’re supposed to be.

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 11 months

Text

Tommy x Joel x Reader: Sharing is Caring

Mature content ahead

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, threesome, sub and dom (kinda), nipple play, blowjob, dirty talk, use of pet names, sexual content, description of sexual relations, cum eating, Oral(Female and Male receiving), creampie, penetration (p in v ), unprotected sex, swearing, fingering, cum eating, ass fucking...

Word count: 4,8K

You’d tagged along with Joel a couple years ago. It was meant to be temporary but it turned out to be a long lasting partnership. Ellie had been the last addition to the team. The glue that seemed to hold everything together. You’d grown used to the dinâmica. A little family of sorts. You knew about Joel’s past and he knew about yours. The outbreak had made you lose a lot of things but it had also given you Joel and you wouldn’t give him up for anything. It took a while for you two to realize your feelings for each other. The moment of realization had come a couple of months before Ellie had entered the equation. A bottle of whiskey and friendly banter had quickly turned into panicked groping and sloppy kisses. It took a week for the two of you to talk about what had happened. The talk consisted of sinful noises and whispered confessions that had led to your current agreement: no labels, just sex. And you were okay with that.

The agreement didn’t last a month.

Not entirely, anyway. You didn’t have a label so you kept up with that portion of the agreement but it wasn’t just sex. Sure, sex was a big part of it. But there was what happened before: the longing glances, worried words and hesitation. And there was what happened after: the cuddles, sweet whispers and sleeping in each other's arms. It wasn’t just sex it was something else but you didn’t really know what. Until you found Tommy.

Joel had been pleased to find his little brother alive which by consequence made you pleased. There was a small problem though. Tommy was an attractive man. Damn them Miller genetics. The longer the three of you stayed with Tommy the worse things got. You weren't trying to be greedy. You knew you were lucky to have Joel in your life and he satisfied you tremendously. Still, you couldn't help but let your thoughts drift to the younger Miller brother. To make matters worse Tommy seemed to always be around you. You'd often catch yourself glancing at him across the room, your eyes roaming his frame until they made their way to his face. Tommy had caught you looking at him once. You'd turned away abruptly which had caused him to laugh.

"Starin's rude you know?"

You cursed yourself for being so obvious. You could tell Tommy was behind you from the clearness of his voice so you took a breath and turned to face him. He was a lot closer than you had expected, causing your knee to bump into his leg when you spun your chair around. The small amount of contact had sent a spark down your spine.

"Who says I was staring Miller?'

You weren't fooling anybody. He'd caught you red handed but your pride told you to fake innocence. Tommy flashed you a smile. He had a pretty smile. Joel had a nice smile too but he didn't grace you with its presence as often as Tommy did. The younger Miller brother always seemed to be in a good mood while your partner was normally seen sulking in a corner. They contrasted with each other rather clearly and yet you found yourself desiring them both equally. Your eyes shifted from his eyes to his lips, leg bouncing lightly and hitting his thigh. He glanced down at your leg placing a hand on your thigh before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"I don't mind. As long as I get to stare too."

He was so close you could feel his breath against your neck causing you to close your eyes. When you opened them again Tommy had already made his way to the door, his eyes catching yours as he went outside.

Later that day Joel returned from some mission. His body ached from walking so much and all he wanted was to see you. He'd made his way to the room you two shared only to find it empty. Joel placed his things on the floor, closing the door as he went back out to look for you. You were making your way back to your room when someone tugged you into an alley. You almost let out a scream for help but then you noticed who was in front of you. Your eyes widened with joy as you looked at Joel.

"You're here."

"Just got back. Went looking for you but you weren't home."

Home. You loved the fact that Joel called the small, dingy and dirty room you two shared home. He'd told you he didn't much like calling it a room, for some reason it sounded weird to him. Made it feel like he didn't belong. You'd told him to call it home instead and he liked the idea.

"I was chatting with some people. How was the mission?"

"Tiring, but let's talk about it another time."

Joel's hands wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him.

"I missed you."

You smiled at him, hands going to play with his beard.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

Joel gave you a wolfish grin before kissing you. You groan into the kiss allowing him to switch your position. Your back hit the makeshift wall behind you, the cold metal making you shiver. Joel's lips trailed down your neck sucking on the skin near your ear.

"Joel uh someone could-uhm-see."”

"Shh baby girl, just enjoy."

Joel's hand trailed down your body toying at the button of your pants. You leaned your head back staring at the sky as Joel reached his hand into your pants. Joel grinned as you moaned at the feeling of him toying with your folds.

"Wet already?"

"I missed you too."

"Was only gone a couple of hours, baby."

"Well i'm needy."”

"Yeah you are, my pretty girl always desperate for my attention, hum?."

"Always-uh- always. Joel please…"

"Tell me what you want."

"Touch me. Fuck me with your fingers."

"Jesus christ."

Joel's fingers entered your pussy causing your head to snap up as you moaned. You leaned your head against Joel's shoulder widening your legs for him as he fucked you. You opened your eyes expecting not to see anything other than the wall in front of you. Instead you were surprised to find eyes.

Tommy's eyes.

Your mouth opened to whisper to Joel but Tommy was faster. You watched him raise his finger and place it against his lips signaling for you to stay quiet. The right thing would have been to tell Joel but your orgasm was clouding your judgment and the idea of Tommy watching his brother get you off flipped something in your brain. You kept eye contact observing the way Tommy's eyes traveled down your body slowly. Your lips parted in a muted moan as Joel sped up his movements. Tommy's hands went to his crotch readjusting his member in his jeans. You gripped onto Joel's shoulder biting into your lip as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

"That's it honey. Let go.”

"Fuck Joel.”

You orgasm washed over you body sagging in Joel's grip due to the amount of pleasure. Joel worked you through it, his arms keeping you upright as you recovered. Once you caught your breath and recovered the feeling in your legs you opened your eyes expecting to see a familiar pair of eyes though the crack in the wall.This time instead of finding Tommy's eyes gazing at you you were greeted by the view of wood boards. You felt slightly disappointed. Joel seemed to notice your lost gaze turning to see what you were staring at. His eyes found the gap in the makeshift wall, a curse leaving his lips.

"Gotta tell someone to fix that."

His gaze came back to you, hands going to move a piece of hair out of your face.

"Guess you were right about someone being able to see us. To bad we didn't have an audience they would have gotten quite the show."”

Sweet innocent Joel, if only he knew.

A couple of days had passed since your little performance for Tommy. A part of you wanted to tell Joel the truth but another part liked sharing a secret with Tommy. The two of you would catch each other's gaze from time to time. The air around you heavy with unspoken desire. Neither of you spoke with each other about it though. It was almost as if by talking about what had happened you'd be confessing to the whole town.

You'd started to wonder if Tommy's silence meant he regretted doing it. You didn't and in your mind you'd let that be really clear but considering you hadn't said any of this aloud to Tommy it was understandably that he was reluctant. You'd started thinking he was just going to act like it had never happened until he said something that surprised you. You were cleaning a glass in the bar minding your business as you watched the men play pool. You haven't been paying much attention to their conversation until you heard Tommy's voice, head snapping up to look for him.

"That's my drink Matt."

"Shit Tommy my bad."”

"It's alright. Around here we share."

Tommys eyes found yours across the room, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he grabbed his glass from one of the men and took a sip. Your lips involuntarily parted as you gazed at him. If it wasn't clear before it sure as hell was now. Tommy Miller wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

You went on with your day doing chores and helping people around town. To the outside world you seemed normal but inside your brain was working a mile and hour, the sound of Tommy's words playing on loop. Once you finished you made your way home, a small sigh leaving your lips as you closed the door.

"Hey honey."”

You froze at the sound of Joel's voice turning at your heels to look at him. He was leaning against the doorframe, his expression serious. Well shit. Joel only used that look with you on two occasions: when he was mad at you or when he was feeling extra dominating. You had no clue which was the case so you decided to go for a neutral approach.

"Hey baby. Been home long?"”

"Not too long. Actually i was having a really interesting conversation.”

You took off your coat hanging it on the coat rack.

"Oh who with?"

"Ah just Tommy"

You back stiffened hands patting your coat lightly before turning to look at Joel again. He'd moved to sit down on the edge of the bed but his expression remained the same.

"Oh what did-"

"We need to talk."

"Okay."

Joel patted the spot next to him silently asking you to come to him. You did as he asked, eyes stuck to the floor as you moved.

"Tommys been telling me some interesting stories and as much as I love my brother he's always had a bit of an imagination."

You took a shaky breath in, your eyes moving to look at Joel.

"So I want to hear it from you."

Joel grabbed your hand, his thumb caressing your palm lightly.

"I ain't gonna be mad. But I gotta know the truth. Okay honey?"

"O-okay."”

"You been flirting with Tommy?"

You nodded.

"Alright. That day, in the alley, when i fucked you with my fingers."

You cringed slightly at Joel's bluntness.

"Did you see Tommy watching and not tell me?"”

You closed your eyes and nodded again.

"Okay last one. And this is the most important one so tell the truth."

You braced yourself for the question, biting your lip nervously.

"Do you get of on the idea of Tommy fucking you."

You started to nod again when you heard a voice from somewhere in the room.

"Need verbal confirmation darlin'."

Your eye snapped in the direction of the sound, eyes finding Tommy's frame in the dark. You look back at Joel expecting him to be angry but once you looked into his eyes you realized there was a hunger hidden in them.

"It's alright honey. Answer Tommy."”

You looked back at the younger Miller as he rose from his position and made his way closer to you. Gosh he looked good. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned and his hat made him look intimidating. You breathed in a smile gracing your lips.

"Yeah i get off on the idea of you fucking me."

"Fucking hell."”

Tommy's hands moved to his crotch, adjusting himself in his jeans. You liked the effect you had on him. Your gaze returned to Joel whose eyes hadn't left your frame.

"I like the idea of you sharing me."

"Jesus honey."

Joel let out a chuckle at your confession. It was a desperate sort of laugh. The kind of laugh you'd let out when someone said something absurd and you agreed with them but didn't want to let them know that. The type of laugh you'd give when your friends told you your crush likes you back. A laugh of hope. Joel fucking Miller was into the idea of you getting turned on by the thought of him and his brother absolutely ruining you. You never felt more relief in your life.

Before you'd even realized what you were doing you made your way to Tommy, your hands reaching to grab his hat from his head and placing it on your own.

"So what do you say cowboy you gonna rock my world or what?"

Tommy's gaze snapped over to his brother, his eyes asking for permission. Joel looked at you, watching the way your body buzzed with desire before turning his gaze back to Tommy and nodding. A grin spread over Tommy at Joel's approval. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a smearing kiss. Your hands weaved around his neck as you deepened the kiss. Tommy grabbed your head for better support causing his hat to fall off. His hands made their way into your hair tugging lightly as he kissed down your neck. You moaned as Tommy sucked at your skin making him smile against you.

"Love the noises you make darlin'."

"Ah Tommy…"

You throw your head back, giving Tommy better access and allowing you to look over at Joel. Your jaw slacked as you moaned. Joel remained seated but his legs were slightly spread allowing you to see his hard on. You reached down to grope Tommy's dick through his pants causing him to hiss against your neck, his teeth scraping against your throat. Joel unzipped his pants, his hands reaching into his underwear. You watched as Joel's cock sprung out of his underwear groaning at the sight.

“Like what you see honey?”

“Yeah Joel.”

“Show Tommy how good you make me feel.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, focus on him.”

You glanced at Tommy, your confidence skyrocketing at the lust in his eyes.

“Wanna fuck my mouth baby?”

“Yes ma'am.”

You smiled at Tommy, your fingers moving to unbutton his shit.

“You gonna be a good boy for me?”

Tommy nodded eagerly. You weren’t used to being in a dominant position Joel usually played that role. You’d be lying if you didn’t understand why he enjoyed it so much.

Once Tommy's shirt was completely unbuttoned you stepped back.

“Take your pants off.”

Tommy did as you asked, reaching to remove his belt as you made your way over to Joel.

“Hey honey.”

“Hey baby.”

You leaned down to give Joel a passionate kiss. Your hand made its way to where Joel's dick was, giving him a couple strokes.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

You hummed in confirmation hand moving in a steady pace.

“How about you?”

“I'm not used to not having you all to myself.”

You stopped stroking Joel, leaning back to look at his face.

“Are you sure you're okay with this? If it bothers you we can stop.”

Joel smiled at you. You were always putting others before you. It was something Joel had always admired about you.

“Don’t worry about me. If you're enjoying yourself then so am i. Even if it means sharing you with this fool.”

“Hey now.”

You laughed giving Joel one last stroke.

“I love you Joel.”

“Love you honey. Now get your butt over there.”

Joel gave your ass a slap as you made your way to Tommy. Your eyes traveled down to Tommy's unclothed dick. It was a bit thinner than Joels but about the same size so you knew you wouldn’t have a hard time giving him head. You placed your hands on Tommys shoulders, shoving his shirt off his body before placing a kiss to his chest. You licked a line down his body as you went to your knees. Tommy bundled your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you kissed his tip.

“Remember be a good boy and i'll reward you.”

“What type of- Jesus christ!”

You took Tommys dick into your mouth before he could finish speaking. His hips moved in their own accord, fucking your mouth in a steady rythm.

“Fuck darlin’.”

“Feels like heaven doesn't it Tommy?”

“You’re one lucky man Joel.”

You reached a hand into your pants rubbing your clit as you sucked Tommy off. You moaned at the stimulation making Tommy curse at the vibration. You relaxed your jaw as best as you could allowing Tommy to throat fuck you. Your eyes remain glued on his face as he moved, watching the pleasure in his features. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed in concentration. Tommy opened his eyes, glancing down to look at you. The sight of you almost choking on his cock caused him to groan as his pace quickened. He was close to cumming. You removed your hand from your underwear groping Tommy's balls as you gave him a hard suck.

“Ugh darlin-shit- i’m gonna cum.”

You removed your mouth from Tommy pulling your shirt off before stroking him again.

“Come on baby. Cum for me.”

“Ah fuck.”

Tommy's seed slipped out splattering against your bare chest as he came. You heard a groan from Joel's side of the room, eyes moving to look at him as you continued stoking Tommy through his orgasm. You watched Joel throw his head back as he came coating his hands with his juices. Tommy wrapped his hand around yours to stop you from moving it. You let go of his dick glancing up at him with a smile. He grinned down at you before kneeling down in front of you. His eyes went to your chest observing his cum run down the valley of your breasts. Tommy’s hands wrapped around your thigh tugging you into his lap before burying his face in your breasts. His tongue circled your nipple causing you to tug at his hair.

“Oh baby-ugh- so good for me.”

Tommys hips jerked up to meet your clothed cunt, the slight pleasure to your clit making you moan.

“Jesus Tommy give her a break.”

Tommy detached himself from your breasts at his brothers scolding.

“Sorry.”

You glared at Joel for making Tommy feel bad.

“It’s okay baby. I liked it. Joels just jealous cause’ he’s more of an ass man.”

Tommy turned to look at Joel

“Wait, you don’t give her breasts any love?”

You caressed Tommys hair as you waited for Joel to answer.

“She’s never asked.”

Tommy let out a scoff.

“Come on Joel. She shouldn’t have to.”

“How am i supposed to know what she likes if she doesn't tell me.”

Tommy wrapped his hands against your breasts squeezing them before playing with your nipples. You let out a moan grinding down onto Tommy.

“Because that's how she reacts.”

“Hum. Maybe you should listen to your brother more, baby.”

Joel noticed the bratty glimmer in your eyes. You were trying to toy with him on purpose. Fuck it it didn’t turn him on.

“I thought you said you wanted us to share you.”

“I do.”

“Then get your ass over here so I can get a taste of that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your thigh involuntary clenched at Joel's words making Tommy laugh.

“She liked that.”

You got off Tommy shimming out of your pants before making your way to Joel. Once you made it you leaned down to give him a kiss consequently giving Tommy a great view of your ass. He let out a low whistle as he made his way to the two of you. Joel tugged you onto his lap, his semi hard brushing against your cunt.

“Hum Joel.”

“What is it honey?”

“Need your mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Please.”

“Okay. Where do you want Tommy to be?”

You glanced at the younger Miller reaching a hand out to him. He took your hand helping you up from his brother's lap. You pointed to the headboard.

“SIt down over there.”

“Yes ma'am.”

Tommy gave your ass a squeeze before doing what you’d asked. Joel got up from the bed allowing you to crawl to Tommy who opened his arms to you. You laid against Tommy, your back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting against your breasts. You bent your knees, spreading your legs for Joel who stood at the edge of the bed. Joel licked his lips at the sight of you spread out for him.

“Come on big boy. Meal time.”

Joel crawled on the bed making his way to you like some sort of predator. You desperately wanted to rub your thighs together to release some pressure but kept your legs spread. Joel took his sweet time getting to you. He used the excuse that his knees weren’t the same as before but you knew better. He was teasing you. Tommy seemed to notice your impatience so he started kissing your neck. Joel kissed his way up your leg starting at your ankle and stopping at the inside of your thigh. He sucked on the skin there making you squirm. Joel held onto your legs raising his head to look at Tommy.

“Keep her steady will you.”

Tommy nodded, his arms tightening around you. The moment Joel delved into your pussy your body became puddy in his hands. You molded yourself into Tommy his hard on proding you in the ass as Joel ate you out. You closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of Joel's lips against your folds and Tommy's hands fondling your breasts. Joel's nose bumped against your clit making you latch your hands onto his curls tugging on them as he licked your slit. Tommy nibbled your earlobe whispering sweet nothings. His voice was soft compared to the roughness in which Joel ate you out. The contrast demonstrated well the difference between the two men. You loved it. Your hips started bucking up into Joel's face as your orgasm started to grow closer. Joel listened to your moans become more intense, lifting his head to look at your blissed out face as he added two fingers at once. You launched forwards at the feeling nails digging into Tommy's forearm as you moaned.

“Please Joel i'm so close-ugh- please….”

“I know honey, I know. Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Give her clit some attention, will you? My arm is starting to cramp.”

Joel often cursed his joints for hurting during sex. At the start of your agreement it was something he was very insecure about. He’d told you about it one day and you’d said that if he ever needed a break you’d gladly ride his face. It wasn’t the response he’d imagined but it had made him a lot less self-conscious. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory, his mind snapping back to reality when you moaned Tommys name.

“I know darlin. Let it happen.”

“Ah Joel faster!”

Your pussy clenched around Joel's fingers as he quickened his movements and leaned down to lick your pussy. Your eyes glossed over as you came, your juices counting Joel's beard. Tommy caresed your hair as your orgasm hit you leaving kisses on your forehead. Joel worked you through it, stopping his movements once you started closing your thighs, the overstimulation hitting you.

The three of you stayed quiet for a while. Tommy massaged your shoulders while you catched your breath. Joel laid down on your thigh, his hands caressing your legs fondly.

“You okay darlin?”

You looked at Tommy giving him a peck on the lips and massaging his scalp with your nails.

“Never better. Joel?”

“Yeah honey?”

“How’s your knee?”

“It’ll stop throbbing in a second.”

“So you’ll be okay for another round?”

You could still feel Tommys dick prodding your ass and you knew that Joel would be hard already from eating you out.

Were you being greedy? Maybe.

Did you give a shit? No, not really.

“Round two?”

Tommy's voice sounded so hopeful it was like a little kid being told he could have as many sweets as he wanted.

“Well you know what they say. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

“Ah shit.”

Tommys hips bucked up at your words. Joel looked up at you.

“Where does that leave me?”

“You big boy get to fuck me in the ass.”

“So fucking good for us honey.”

“A proper angel.”

Joel got up from the bed moving to get the lube out of the corner you kept it in. Tommy let go of you allowing you to get up from the bed. You stretched your limbs for a moment as you waited for Joel to return. Once he was back and Tommy had settled into a comfortable position, you crawled back onto the bed. You straddled Tommy's hips slowly grinding against his dick before positioning it at your entrance. Tommy's hands found your hips guiding you onto him. Both of you moaned in unison at the feeling of each other.

“Ah Tommy.”

“Fuck darlin you’re so warm.”

“Ugh filling me up so good baby. So fucking good for me.”

Joel came up behind you, his hand resting against your back, forcing you to arch up for him. You let Joel move you as he wished to, his thumb circling your hole before going in to stretch you out. You clamped down on Tommy's dick at the feeling of Joel easing his finger into you. Joel placed some lube in his hand coating his dick in the liquid before guiding himself into you. You felt his dick against your ass spreading your legs slightly.

“Ready honey?”

“Uh Hum”

“Tommy?”

“Fucking stick it in already Joel!”

You laughed as Tommys impatience, the sound quickly transforming into moaning as Joel's dick entered you. You kissed Tommy as Joel started thrusting, the motion making Tommy's dick rub against your walls.

“Faster baby faster!”

“Fuck thats it.”

Joel started pistoling into your the pain he’d been feeling in his knee suddenly disappearing as he fucked into you. Tommy watched your boobs bounce up and down as his brother moved behind you, his own hips jerking up into your pussy in desperation. Your nails dig into Tommy's chest as you ground against him, the feeling of his and Joel's dick filling you up making your jaw slack.

“ I ain’t gonna last much longer.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m close to just-ugh Joel- I need um….”

“What-fuck- baby?”

“Boobs boobs please- ughh!”

Tommy fondled your breasts, his fingers moving against your nipples.

“Fuck Tommy.”

“Like that darlin’?”

“Yeah yeah i’m-i uhm-i’m gonna-”

“Me too baby me-ugh-me too.”

With one particular hard thrust has you cumming. Your orgasm caused you to clench around Tommy's dick which spiraled him into his own. Joel kept thrusting into you until his orgasm arrived making him fuck his seed into you. You fell limp against Tommy, his arms wrapping around your frame as the two of you catched your breath. Joel pulled out and laid down in the empty spot beside you two. After some time you got off of Tommy, both of you hissing as he pulled out. The younger Miller got up searching for something to clean up with. Joel tugged you into his chest placing a kiss on your temple as you hummed.

“Thank you.”

“You could have just asked honey. Didn’t need to keep it a secret.”

“I didn't wanna risk you thinking you can’t satisfy me. Because you do. I just…”

“Wanted to try something new?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s alright baby i get it. And I'm glad it was Tommy. I’d be worried about some other guy but I trust Tommy.”

“So you don’t mind?”

“Considering everything we’ve been through, this ain’t nothing.”

You two stayed quiet for a moment just listening to Tommy walk around the room.

“I can’t believe I didn't know about the boob thing.”

You let out a laugh.

“Please don’t make it a big deal.”

“I won’t. Guess I could still learn a thing or two from the younglings.”

“You bet old man.”

You smiled at the voices of the Millers bickering around you, your eyes growing heavy as sleep took over you.

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pedroscurls · 6 months

Text

Dirty Little Secret (Part 1).

Character(s): no-outbreak, age-gap!Joel Miller x fem!Reader Summary: You meet Joel Miller, the father of the bride. Word count: 1.9k A/N: Lol, I said I was gonna post this tomorrow, but I couldn't wait. I hope you guys enjoy this first part and thank you to anyone who reads this! As mentioned, idk what to call this, best friend’s fiancée’s dad!Joel x fem!reader? Lol, I feel like that's a bit complicated, but there's an age gap in this story. This is also pulled from my own experience (only the sexual tension... unfortunately nothin' happened lol🫣) Warning: age-gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early-30s) SERIES MASTERLIST

“So… Can you make it?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Drew.” you tell your best friend, gently nudging his shoulder. “I just still can’t believe you’re finally settling down. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He laughs. Andrew - or Drew - has been your best friend since you were kids. You had moved into the neighborhood with your mom after she and your dad divorced and you remember how Drew and his family had welcomed you with open arms whenever your mom was too inebriated to take care of you.

Living next door to Drew and his family was a godsend to you, especially at the young age of eight. They protected you. They made you feel safe, made you feel loved. It was always a stark contrast between your home and his. Drew’s house, from the moment you stepped foot inside, always gave you the warm feeling in your belly and you always found yourself never wanting to leave, not wanting to go back home to the empty and lonely feeling that you experienced every night.

And now, over twenty years later, Drew and his family have maintained that unspoken promise to keep you safe, to protect you, and to always make sure that you were loved.

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew rolls his eyes. “What about you? When are you gonna settle down?”

Now it was your turn to laugh. You grab your wine glass and finish the last remaining liquid. “I’m not the marrying type,” you respond.

“You won’t turn out like your parents,” he says softly.

“Drew, I know,” you sigh. “I just– I don’t want to open myself up like that. It’s too scary.”

“You never know,” Drew smiles. “I thought I liked being single, being with a different woman every week or so, but Sarah…” he lets out a sigh of contentment. “She’s just– It’s been four years since we’ve been together and I think I fall more in love with her every day.”

“Okay, lover boy,” you chuckle. “We get it. You’re in love. You’re about to get married… But I agree with you. She’s the best, and she’s the only one of your girlfriends where she didn’t feel intimidated by me or our friendship.”

Drew sighs, “I know. It’s the curse of having a woman as a best friend.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “The women before Sarah were just jealous and not confident or secure in their relationship with you.”

Drew nods. “That’s true. Besides, you’re like a sister to me.” He smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Like a big sister?” You tease. “Just kidding, we’re only a year apart.”

“Yeah, and I’m the older one.”

Just as you were going to say something, Sarah steps out into the backyard and walks in your direction. You look over at Drew and smile to yourself, seeing the way his eyes light up when he sees her and how he immediately stands up to meet her half way, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, gently kissing her temple. “How’d dinner with your dad go?”

“It was good. He was asking about you. Same with Uncle Tommy.”

“Ah,” he chuckles. “They’re gonna give me shit the next time I see them, aren’t they?”

Sarah grins and you swear that you see Drew fall in love all over again with the sight of her smile. You can see her deep dimples on her cheeks and how her eyes soften and also seem to smile. It was one of the first things you noticed about her: the kind and warm look she gave you – it was the same look that Drew and his family looked at you.

“You know it. Now, let me go say hi to my girl. Can you go inside and pour me a glass of wine?”

Drew nods and kisses her cheek before he disappears inside the house. Sarah takes his seat and looks over at you, arching her brow.

“What?” you ask.

“I might have someone that is interested…” she grins.

“Sarah,” you chuckle. “You and Drew need to stop playing matchmaker. The past two blind dates I have been on have been terrible.”

“You didn’t even give it a chance,” Sarah sighs.

“You know I like older guys,” you smile. “I just don’t want to settle down. Getting married and all that doesn’t have to happen for everyone.”

“I know,” she leans against you. “I just want you to be happy.”

“And a man isn’t gonna be the answer.” You look over at her. You can see the concern on her features – that was another thing that you learned about Sarah. She wears her heart on her sleeve and whenever she gets worried about the people she cares about, her face and expressions tell it all. “I’m fine,” you reassure her. “I got you and I got Drew. That’s all I need.”

“Maybe I should set you up with my Uncle Tommy,” she teases, letting out a quiet laugh. “He’s older. Single. He needs a good woman to anchor him down.”

“And why’s that?” you smile. “Is he trouble, Sarah?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, he just hasn’t found someone yet.”

“Like me,” you point out.

“He’s older,” she chuckles.

“Well, your engagement party is this weekend. I’m assuming he’s gonna be there?” you tease.

“Oh my god, are you serious?” You see the light in her eyes, the excitement across her features.

“No! He’s your uncle, how weird would that be?”

“Not weird,” she laughs. “It’d be weird if it was my dad you were interested in.”

“Isn’t he like fifty?”

“More than that, fifty-six.”

Drew steps out into the backyard with two glasses of wine, one for Sarah and another refill for you.

“Is this an early celebration?” you tease.

“We just wanna celebrate with you one-on-one before the pre-wedding festivities begin. It’s gonna be a lot,” Drew replies, sitting next to Sarah and wrapping his arm around her shoulders instantly.

“Well, whatever you both need, just let me know. After all, I am your best woman,” you tell Drew.

Sarah smiles and leans against Drew, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. “It’s gonna be fun,” she adds. “But Drew’s right. It will be a lot, so this is kind of like the calm before the storm.”

“Well, cheers to that then,” you laugh, raising your glass. “Cheers to you both and cheers for what’s to come.”

You’re running late and by the time you reach Sarah dad’s house, there are so many cars that you have to park at the end of the street. You’re practically sprinting to the house, hearing the music and laughter coming from the backyard. You’re wearing a sleeveless navy blue satin dress that stops just past your knees, the thin spaghetti straps resting on your shoulders with a cowl neckline. Their engagement party is semi-formal and you can feel your feet begin to ache from the heels you’re wearing.

Your hair is in loose curls and you’re about to knock on the door when it swings open. You look up at the man, feeling your breath immediately escape you. His hair is slicked back, tinges of gray in the dark brown. You notice his beard, patchy in some areas, his plump lips begging to be kissed, but as you obviously ogle this man, you don’t realize that he’s actually speaking to you.

“Are ya lost?” his voice is deep, rough, and you just want to hear it against your ear as he’s thrusting– “Are ya here for the party?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m late. I’m Drew’s best woman–”

“Ah,” he interrupts. “You are late.”

You can’t think. The sounds of the music and laughter drown out as you stare up at this man. He’s wearing black slacks and a dark green button up with the sleeves folded to his elbows. He’s staring at you too, though, hand remaining on the doorknob as he looks at you in amusement.

“You gonna let me in or stand guard all day?” you say, trying to snap yourself out of this trance. For a split second, you forget why you’re here and all you can think about is talking to this man and having him take you up to his–

“That depends,” he smirks, the dimple on his right cheek appearing. “You gonna be polite and say please?”

You blush. You’re sure he didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on your frame. It gives you a bit of confidence as you step up to him, inches now separating your bodies.

“Please,” you whisper.

You see his smirk falter, his jaw tighten and instead of responding, he nods and steps aside to give some space between the both of you.

“They’re in the backyard,” he adds. You step past him, looking over your shoulder at him to see that his eyes had fallen on your backside. When he looks up at you and realizes that you had caught him staring, he immediately clears his throat and points towards the driveway. “I’m just gonna–”

“Wait,” you interrupt, reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Joel,” he responds. “Sarah’s dad.”

Then, he removes himself from your grasp and walks out, shutting the door behind him. You clear your throat, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself. “He does not look fifty-six.” You turn on your heel, following the sound of chatter and music as you try to rid yourself of the lingering thoughts of Joel.

Joel isn’t expecting Drew’s best woman to look like you. When he opens the door and you’re standing on his doorstep in that dress, it takes every ounce of him not to look at you from top to bottom. It helps, though, that he notices you staring at him like you want him. It actually gives him confidence that a pretty thing like you is finding him attractive enough that you’re distracted enough not to hear what he’s actually saying.

But then he hears you say that you’re Drew’s best woman. It all but crushes him, crushes any ounce of hope he was holding onto that maybe at the end of the night he’d take you to his bed. You’re off limits and you’re certainly too young for him, but he can’t help himself.

He can’t help but ask you to beg and say please to come in.

And when you do, without any hesitation, he feels the blood immediately rush towards the center of his pants. When you step closer to him, Joel has to tighten his jaw and tighten the grip he has on the doorknob. It anchors him, gives him something to ground himself or else he is going to lose his resolve… quick.

When you finally step inside and walk past him, he turns just slightly to glance at your backside. The dress you’re wearing accentuates every curve while remaining modest enough, but he can’t help himself. Though, when Joel does look up, he feels embarrassed that you’ve caught him staring.

He has to step outside, has to create some distance between him and you, but then he feels your soft touch on his forearm and it causes a shiver to run down his back. After he tells you that he’s Sarah’s dad, Joel doesn’t bother to wait to see your reaction. Instead, he leaves you standing there while he steps out of his house, shutting the door behind him and shutting the door to the inappropriate thoughts that fill his mind.

next.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller au #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller age gap fanfic #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #story: dirty little secret

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dovedewdrop · 9 months

Text

The One That Got Away

In another life

I would be your girl / 1.7k

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first fic! I've been super anxious to put this out but also itching to write something so here we are🤗 I hope you enjoy🩷

Also thank you to one of my besties @gracieispunk for being so supportive always🥹 she truly has a heart of gold and deserves the world💛 Happy 5 months of friendship🫶🏻👹

Warnings: Post-Outbreak. Mean!Joel. Just pure angst tbh. sad vibes.

---

The last time he had kissed you was the morning of the outbreak, long and passionate, his arm slung around your lower back, your hand on his chest. He’d done it to shut you up really, both you and Sarah on his case about how he was working late, on his birthday of all days, but you both knew why he had to, it was the same reason you picked up extra shifts at work too, you had a wedding to plan and weddings weren’t cheap no matter how low-key they were.

Now you sat at your kitchen table in Jackson in the house you shared with Tommy and Maria, your fingertips ghosting across your bottom lip as you reminisced on that morning. Soon those sweet memories that seemed to be coated in an orange hue were contrasted with shades of blue, Joel had changed, he became a man you didn’t recognise, a man who was cold towards you.

You knew deep down that he didn’t blame you for what had happened, but he had to be mad at someone. At first he just withdrew into himself, but it didn’t take long for him to become outwardly mean, you felt pathetic as you followed behind him up dirt paths and across fields and embarrassed when one day he’d stopped in his tracks, drew in a long breath, and muttered, “wish you’d just leave already,” stalking off up the hill and leaving Tommy to comfort you.

So that’s what you did, you and Tommy, you left with no idea where you’d end up and it killed you to turn around at the edge of the woods and see Joel sitting there on his own, snapping sticks in his hand as if it was your heart he was holding.

You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand and downed the rest of your coffee before placing the mug in the sink, grabbing a checked fleece from the hook on your way out the door. The air outside was biting, bringing a rosiness to your cheeks which you didn’t really mind, you’d be out of the cold and in the Bison soon enough. You took note of the patrol coming back in through the gates and smiled at some of the other families as you weaved your way through the crowds of people who had stopped in the streets.

“Tommy!” You stopped dead in your tracks. Tommy was a popular man around here; someone was always looking for him but there was no mistaking whose voice that was. When you turned ever so slightly they were embracing in a hug, it made your heart burst to see them together like that, how they used to be, how Joel used to be. He seemed a lot brighter, full if a bit more life. You scanned the horses and noticed a young girl amongst the patrollers, someone you hadn’t seen before, you wondered if she was his, if he’d met someone new after you, fallen in love again and decided to have another kid, you wondered if he was healed, if she’d healed him.

When you turned your attention back to them he was already looking at you and for the first time in your life you couldn’t read him, his emotions had always been so strong, when he loved it was with his whole heart and as you came to find out, when he hated, that was with his whole heart too.

You tore your gaze away from his and headed towards the pub, clutching at your chest, you were grateful that you didn’t have to open for another hour as you slumped against the wooden cupboard behind the bar, trying your best to regulate your breathing, eyes closed and head pounding. As you’d finally calmed down and peeled your eyes open you noticed a head full of curls peaking over the bar, Tommy.

“You know he was coming?” You asked, with a slight shake evident in your voice.

“Nah, guys picked him and the girl up whilst out on patrol.” He began rounding the bar to sit on the floor with you.

“Is that his daughter?”

“Don’t think so, haven’t had chance to speak to him properly yet, ‘ad to come check on you.” He nudged your shoulder with his and gave you a sincere smile, one which you returned, he’d always looked out for you and now that Joel was back that wasn’t going to change. “Take the rest of the afternoon off, I’ve got it covered here.”

“Thanks Tommy,” you pull him into a hug before standing up and heading home.

You take a hot shower and try to drown out the recurring memories of how Joel fell out of love with you, of how when he looked at you his eyes no longer held warmth, how when you’d touch him he’d flinch and looked away. When you sat at your dresser your eyes fixed on your engagement ring that sat in a wooden box that the carpenter in Jackson had been kind enough to make, it wasn’t incredibly fancy, you weren’t into big sparkly rocks, but the green amethyst stone was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, and it made your heart burst to know that he picked it.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sat at the dresser but when you snap out of your trance you realise you don’t quite know what to do with the rest of your afternoon, perhaps you should’ve carried on with your shift, but you know there’s no arguing with Tommy. Eventually you decide on grabbing a book from the bookshelf and sitting outside on the porch with a cup of coffee. That’s when you see him again, or rather hear him. The door to the Bison swings and he storms out, jacket in hand, boots trudging through the sludgy remnants of snow until he stops in the middle of the street, he looks down and you watch, over the top of your book, as his body lets out a breath he seems to have been holding in for a long time.

You try to hold your tongue but you’re not about to let him walk around in this town and ignore you. “Get into a fight with Tommy?” you question, placing your book down in your lap and pulling the blanket further up your legs. His head shoots up to look at you, his expression looks pained, like he knew this was coming but would prefer it to not be happening right now.

“Somethin’ like that,” he grumbles as he slowly walks over to the house, treading lightly both figuratively and literally.

“Ah, still the same Joel Miller, so elusive and cautious, so stony-faced,” he doesn’t answer you, just looks away to where the girl is talking to some other kids, “of course, he wasn’t always like that,” you mumble, more to yourself than him but he still catches it.

“Don’t” He snaps back.

“Don’t?” You scoff, “that’s rich, what? Can’t handle a bit of shit back?” Again, he doesn’t answer. “That your kid?” You ask, you make sure that you breathe when you ask but really, you’re suffocating inside, you want to fawn over him, you want to hug him and cradle his head in your hand, and you want him to rub soothing circles on your hips like he used to but you’re dealing with an entirely different man now.

“No.” There’s a pause, you notice his eyes flit down to your hands, presumably searching out your ring. “Just tryna get her somewhere.” You nod at his response before silence falls over you both, your eyes drifting over to the kid.

“What’s her name?”

“Ellie.” You nod your head once again.

You can feel everything bubbling up inside you, emotions and words and if you’re not careful they’ll come bubbling out of you in a way that you can’t control. Every second spent in his presence goads you. “You… got a boyfriend?” he asks cautiously and you roll your eyes.

“Jheez Joel, no, how are ya?” He looks down at his fingers that are resting on the wooden railing, like a little boy that’s just been told off. You don’t even know how to respond, your brain trying to categorise your thoughts and feelings like your mind is a jumble sale.

“What ya thinking about?” His voice is soft, his eyes feel as though they’re looking into your soul, like they used to do, he was looking at you like he did when you did something he adored, something that reminded him why he loved you so damn much.

When you let out a sigh instead of an answer, he tapped both hands on the railing and pushed himself off, a slight smile that quickly turned into a frown. “See ya around.”

He stopped walking as you began speaking and you were glad his back was to you because here comes the word vomit,

“ Thinkin about how one day, probably sometime within the next five years, my kids are gonna come runnin up on this porch and my husband is gonna come home from his patrol shift, presumably with you, and he’s gonna tell me about his day and he’ll give that little of a shit that he won’t even notice that I’m not lookin directly at him, I’m lookin past him at you. About how, when I go to tuck my kids in at night I’ll get this stabbing in my chest and this gnawing feeling in my brain telling me that I’m a bad mother because sure, I’ll love them to absolute pieces but part of me can’t help but think I’d love them more if they were your kids. About how I’ll get into bed at night, with my husband who doesn’t so much as utter a “goodnight” to me, instead just rolls over and goes straight to sleep and I’ll cry and mull over what could have been and what I wanted more than anything in the world- until the exhaustion washes over me. Then I’ll wake up the next day and do it all over again. That’s what I’m thinking about Joel.”

He turns to face you at your admission and you can see the tears in his eyes, watching as he forces them out with a blink before wiping a stray one with the back of his flannel. “See ya around,” he repeats.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #hbo joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #hbo joel miller x you #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us #angsty joel miller #dovedewdrop

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pawnshopbleus · 3 months

Text

Miller's Girl

Chapter Two - Professor Miller

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

Authors Note - Sorry for the late update. My mom took my computer away and I physically cannot write on my phone.

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

Joel had been looking for a new babysitter ever since the last one had left. She was an older lady who had lost her husband in the Vietnam War. Joel respected her until she quit unexpectedly the Saturday evening before Joel had a big dinner with the president of the university. He had to beg Tommy and Maria to watch Sarah for the night.

You were the first person that caught his eye on the website. Your experience was subpar and your bio was brief but it contained just enough detail to get him interested. When he scrolled to see what else you did outside of babysitting, his smile fell from his face. You were a student and not just any student. You were a student at the university he taught at. He didn’t want to risk his employment for a simple babysitter so he kept scrolling. Each profile after yours looked plain and simple, something he didn’t like. No one seemed qualified enough to take care of his beloved Sarah except you.

His email to you was like your bio, brief but it contained just enough detail. He signed his name at the bottom and prayed that his position didn’t scare you away. He needed you to agree to this. You were perfect for the job. You were young and could connect with Sarah more than the last babysitter did. Judging from your bio, you were also smart. You seemed like a great role model for Sarah.

Your response came an hour later. Joel chewed on his bottom lip in anticipation of what the email would say. He let out a sigh of relief when you agreed to become Sarah’s babysitter.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

One word that you would use to describe yourself would be unlucky. You were sure that whoever worked high up in the sky had it out for you.

Your counselor called you into his office early Saturday morning to discuss your future after college. You told him that you hoped to become an interior designer once you graduate. He then asked why you didn’t major in interior design instead of architecture. You then told him that he should have asked you this when you were a freshman. You could tell that your counselor wanted to roll his eyes but he kept his composure. He clicked and scrolled away on his computer while you sat there in silence.

“You’re ten credits under the required amount to graduate,” your counselor said.

“What?” The scream you let out contrasted the monotone voice your counselor spoke in.

Your counselor let out a breath through his nose. “Look, you can either graduate next year or you can take another required class for your major.”

“But I thought that I completed all the required classes for my major? It’s the middle of the first semester and I’m pretty sure all the classes are full.”

“There’s one class open with two seats left. I can put you in that class and you’ll start on Monday. You’ll have to catch up on work but i’m pretty sure you’ll be fine.” Your counselor looks you up and down and continues, “You don’t seem like the type to get out much.”

Your left eye twitched at the comment. It was true, but he had no right to say that. You could report him to his superiors but that would be too much paperwork.

“Who teaches the class?” you asked. You hoped that at least the teacher was nice. Maybe they would be a little bit nicer than the asshole in charge of your future at this school.

“Professor Miller.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

Mondays were never Joel’s favorite time of the week. Sarah had soccer on Mondays and Fridays which meant that he had to get up extra early to pack her bags. The last time she packed her own bag, she forgot her ball and her cleats. When the babysitter starts everything will be a lot easier for him.

A new student has just been added to his roster. Never in his twenty-five years of teaching has a student been added to his class in the middle of the semester. Just another paper to read and another packet of homework to grade. This is exactly what he needed! It’s not like he didn’t have a twelve-year-old daughter to raise all by himself.

The campus is stunningly beautiful in the mornings. The sun shines on the trees and grass, illuminating the green blades and leaves. The school spends a lot of money on its campus. They pride themselves on having one of the prettiest campuses in all of Texas.

Joel’s lecture room isn’t too far from where he parked. It’s nice outside. The October breeze sweeps his hair back and he has to smooth it down with his hands. The brown messenger bag slung around his shoulders dangles and hits against his outer thigh as he walks. Contrary to popular belief, Joel isn’t mean or rude. He’s just a simple man who prefers to have a little privacy once in a while. He is also tough on his students because he wants them to succeed. Professors who are “easy” get on his nerves. They crave the respect of their students rather than earning it. Joel has worked too damn long and hard to care about what his students think about him.

His lecture room is cold. Not the usual sixty degrees he likes to keep it at, but more like a chilly forty degrees. He can see his breath flow out in front of him like a ghost. He knows that his students hate being in a cold classroom, but none of them are brave enough to tell him what to do.

Students start pouring in and sitting in their usual seats. They can immediately tell the temperature difference. They hug their arms closer and rock their bodies, trying to preserve warmth.

The small hand of the clock hovers over the number nine and Joel walks over to the door getting ready to lock it. Just as his hand hovers over the knob, the door is thrown open and Joel stumbles back.

You enter the classroom, eyes wide. You look around at the vast array of students already sitting down in their seats. They all look at you with a look of horror. You don’t understand why they are looking at you like that until you turn around.

Professor Miller is standing at his full height, his arms are crossed, and he looks like he’s about to explode with anger. Then, he sees your face and realizes who you are. He must have recognized you from the website because his shoulders relax and he nods his head to the sea of students, prompting you to sit down.

The only seat open is in the back of the room. You walk through the sea of students all looking at you. Some look at you with a look of sympathy while others look at you with disgust.

You make yourself as small as possible when you reach your seat. Once you reach inside your bag, you realize that you have forgotten your laptop on your bed. No wonder your bag felt lighter today than it usually does.

You pull a pen and paper out of your bag and begin scribbling as much information as you can. Your usual neat handwriting looks more like chicken scratch as you try and copy down information thrown at you by Professor Miller. It would have been a lot easier if he talked a little slower.

Two hours have flown by and students practically skip out of the class, happy to escape the cold. Thanks to your seat being in the back, you were one of the last people to get to the door. Before you can exit, Professor Miller stands in front of you, his arms crossed once again.

“This was strike number one,” he said. You gulped and opened your mouth to explain yourself, but he put his hand up. Your mouth closed shut and you nodded your head.

The rest of the day, you walked with your head held low. It wasn’t until you got back to your apartment that you finally felt better. Being home meant that there wouldn’t be anyone there to judge you or give you dirty looks.

You flopped onto your bed. Bill went up in the air and fell back down onto the bed. Bill could sense your distress, so he curled up next you and the two of you fell asleep.

#joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller

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jolieblack · 1 month

Text

Jolie’s thoughts on Silver Blaze (Sherlock & Co. podcast) Parts 1 & 2

… because I can already tell that this will get too long if I wait for parts 3 & 4 to drop…

I know Joel has said in several places that this case is his favourite ACD story, so expectations are high… and not being disappointed so far!

I already loved this one at 3 minutes in, with the opening montage of part 1 being totally over the top, mega blockbuster crime of the century style, and then the next thing we get is Sherlock practising the clippity-clop thing and looking for a new home for 327 ants.

Sherlock being a train geek (of course he is) and going on about the ghost trains just after John went on about the creepy Dartmoor legends got me, too. In my book, Silver Blaze has never had a gothic horror vibe to it, but it may well have now! Let’s see how that aspect will develop.

Other details I loved:

John‘s mum: "He‘s a very sensitive boy and you need to respect that." - "He’s not a boy, he’s a man… who plays with ants."

John and Mariana pushing Sherlock into the case by threatening him with a party, and John being a gleefully cackling little bugger about it when it works.

"Just trying to understand how your brain works." - "Yeah, you and me both, mate."

Sherlock giving us a whole paragraph straight out of ACD (the "plethora" bit) - I love how well it always works in contrast with how everyone else in this universe talks.

The dodgy SD card, which - I hereby predict - will turn out to be more than a comedy element as the case progresses.

Sherlock deducing the entry code for the cottage, we love to see that kind of stuff, don’t we.

"We’ve got a horse to find. Giddy up."- Love it when Sherlock speaks ordinary colloquial modern English like a foreign language.

"You are a child, a giant crime-solving child!" - Sherlock Holmes in a nutshell.

"I’ve done the washing up - he said, pausing for a thank you - " - "Thank you."

Oh and scrolling on our phone to the point of existential crisis till we pass out is so how we all fall asleep these days, isn’t it. Jonk Watson, the true Everyman for the 21st century.

And then we get feeeeels, too!

Starting with "Talk to me, John." - 🥹🥹🥹 The incredible intimacy of that little moment. Also, another 'John', seemingly out of nowhere - is this Sherlock being incredibly finely attuned to the moments where John's war trauma may re-emerge, such as in this scene where they’re viewing a very badly injured body, ready to step in with whatever emotional support may be needed? If so, our boy has come a long way already since the first sweet but clumsy "Would you like to hold hands and talk about your emotions?" when they were viewing the body in Thor Bridge and I’M HERE FOR IT.

And what was that shower scene??? Things getting very much *less weird* for Sherlock while he stares at his dear companion in the shower (who presumably doesn’t shower fully or even half dressed) and imagines what life would be without him? If this show was heading in an unequivocal Johnlock direction, I‘d say this was an awakening. As it is, I don’t believe for a second that Sherlock was high. He just wanted reassurance that John would stay in the picture forever, whatever exactly you like to imagine the picture to be. 😭

More lovely details:

"Cinderella will go to the ball" - "You stop being so bloody clever, and I will stop with the compliments." And literally two minutes later it’s "I'm not asking you to be comfortable, I’m asking you to help me solve the case!" and John being Sherlock’s literal beast of burden so Sherlock can look over a wall that even little John Watson climbs without any assistance only a minute later.

Sherlock Holmes telling John Watson to get on his knees as if this isn’t the moment the Sherlock Holmes fandom has been waiting for for over 140 years.

Sherlock being gentle and friendly with the horse!

And to wrap up, a few thoughts on the case aspect:

[Warning: Contains spoilers for the original ACD story and may therefore contain spoilers for this version, too!]

The limping sheep in part 1 had me going 👀 already, and now the cataract knife has made its appearance, I really don’t expect a lot of surprises when we get to the denouement, and I'm assuming that the fact that there is an imprint of the letter S from the walking stick on the head of the murder victim just means that there was a violent confrontation quite some time before June actually died. Why else would Sherlock agree with Inspector Gregory that the imprint is there, but also with John that those extensive and massive injuries could not have been caused by a single blow with a stick? Nope, not sensing any dramatic plot twists compared to the original version this time. Let’s see if I was right!

#sherlock & co #sherlock & co podcast #podlock #sherlock and co #episode notes #silver blaze

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tommymillerdump · 1 year

Text

you got it wrong. - tommy miller x f!reader

summary: tommy overhears a conversation between two familiar people.

word count: 8.5k lol sorry

disclaimers/tags: minors dni. age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties). miscommunication. detailed smut. lots of 'good girl's. one instance of spanish. just horny, tbh.

read my pinned post! | cross-posted on ao3

"He's an old man, Tabby. You can't flirt with him like you would a guy our age and expect it to have an effect."

Boredom leads you to rearrange the boxes under the bar while your friend finishes sweeping the room. Julian will likely have another breakdown when he sees that you moved 'his' stuff for the third time in two months. How hard can it be to find the three bottles of Rosé left in the world?

She groans, leaning her weight against the broom and miserably blinking up at the ceiling.

"C'mon, what was your plan? To bat your lashes at him as much as possible, then flirt with someone else in front of him in hopes that his jealousy muscle hasn't atrophied since his early twenties so he ends up at your door in one, maybe two nights? Never gonna happen. You can throw yourself at him and still, when he sits down on that comfortable armchair at night, crackling knees and sore back, he is forgetting all about you."

Tabitha's mouth hangs open, defiance and stubbornness reigning over her soft features.

"He's not that old!"

You tsk at her, narrowing your eyes. "He kind of is."

Both of you end up giggling so hard you have to bend over the counter, trying to alleviate the pain in your abdomen. Tabby has her back to you, trying to continue sweeping through her laughter, and you take the opportunity to really think about this situation.

It sucks to discourage your friend. But you have seen Joel. You have hunted with him, helped him pick a book for the kid from the limited library you started in one of the rooms in your cabin, let him help you with your aim. He's alright, but also a severely guarded man not looking for someone to break down his walls.

Unless he's prepared to surprise you, which doesn't really sound like him, Tabby is probably not his type. Bless her gorgeous face, but you don't understand how someone who saw her childhood get ripped away by the apocalypse could stay so chirpy and bright.

Although, you have to wonder how much of your advice derives from a genuine desire to protect your friend from getting rejected by a tactless older man and not your own selfish reassuring.

Except it isn't Joel who caught your eye. His goddamn brother, with the shiny dark curls and the breathtaking dimples. Delicious accent that makes him sound equally intimidating and enticing contrasting with how kindly his gaze falls on everyone in Jackson.

He is temptation wrapped in a fur-collared denim jacket and you feel like a weakened, doubt-filled young religious whose resolve threatens to shatter every time he walks by.

Shame creeps up your spine as you regretfully imagine what he would think if he knew. Would he make fun of you to his brother? This girl who barely got a taste of the real world before it went to shit when he had spent the better part of his life in it, he probably thinks of you as primitive.

The women you picture him with before the outbreak were elegant and intelligent, attractive. You learned the bare minimum in FEDRA's school before joining and subsequently fleeing the Fireflies. You can hunt. You have killed. You're a fighter, not quite a poet or a lover.

Just as importantly, their sexual lives had not yet been stunted by the outbreak. You lost your virginity to an officer in the QZ in exchange for rations. There were some other inexperienced boys in the Fireflies. You stopped looking for sex after arriving in Jackson, feeling like there was simply no space for seduction in the apocalypse. And if it wasn't sexy, it was not enjoyable. What was the point?

So now you feel like a sexless, unattractive, uneducated thing disguised as a woman.

"Okay, my wise friend, what do you suggest then?" You look up from your hands and she rolls her eyes at your puzzled expression. "I'm not giving up so easily, this is the most exciting thing to happen around here in a while."

Tommy walks in at the right time. He knew it was cleaning and restocking day for the Tipsy Bison, and it had not escaped his mind exactly which duo never failed to volunteer for the task. So when he heard Tabitha's suggestive tone, he couldn't help but linger behind the kitchen door.

"Tabby, what-"

"No, c'mon, I wanna know. Let's say you couldn't stand another day without putting your hands on Miller," Tommy nearly drops everything. "What would you do?"

His fingers are turning red, intertwined with the holes in the heavy plastic boxes, holding his breath as if he doesn't want to scare a tauntingly innocent prey.

And then you sigh, a laugh coasting your tone.

"My best guess is to just take it, right? Like I said, can't expect him to play the game at his age, probably doesn't have enough stamina to keep it going." At this point, you're just pushing your friend's buttons, but Tommy can't see that across the door, feeling his grip tighten. "He might entertain it but then again, at the end of the day, all he wants is that comfy couch to lay his aching back on. If you want anything to happen, you quite literally have to go ahead and rob that old man blind of his dignity."

The other young woman bursts into laughter. He doesn't know whether to be offended or incentivized by the way you took him for a debilitated senior.

If you only knew the sinful amount of times he thought of you under the enveloping pressure of the shower, the image of your concentrated furrow in the early morning light as you waited at the gates for Joel, completely unaware that he was watching you, fueling the rapid strokes as he tugs at his own cock. Maybe if you knew about the juvenile shame that washes over him when he passes by and greets you like he hadn't just jerked off thinking about what you looked like under the thick winter clothes, guilt shooting through his body when you smile at him so sweetly and unsuspecting. Would you mock his awkwardness when he asks Joel how hunting went and his brother gives him a reprimanding look?

He's not proud of it. In your own words, he's an old man. And you had the right idea, even if a little misguided, that he wouldn't do anything about it. It's not a matter of virility, it's that he didn't want you to be put off by his interest. He didn't want to make you feel too uncomfortable to hunt with his brother again or lend Ellie books. He had accepted you would be nothing but a terrible late-night habit.

Except now he heard you share these urges, he might have to show you he can offer a lot more than you think. Out of spite.

"Holy shit, you fucking minx. Where have you been hiding all that spirit?"

Tommy can picture your nonchalant shrug. "That is between me and my showerhead."

He hears you break into giggles but it's not enough to cover the sound of the glass bottles knocking against each other as the heavy boxes almost slip from his sweaty hands. The laughter stops abruptly and he knows he can't just hide anymore, so he takes a deep breath and kicks the swinging door open.

Color drains from both faces, spines snapping up and eyes widening.

"Girls."

For the sake of your friend, you recover quickly, sharing a polite smile at the unexpected visitor and redirecting your gaze strategically to what he's holding.

"Hey, Tommy." In the background, he sees Tabitha wave awkwardly and try to spit out his name, but her mouth is likely too dry and it comes out more like a scratchy noise. "Let me take those off you."

He freezes. "What?"

Your hands extend in front of him. "The boxes."

"Oh," No, not your clothes, pervert. "I got it, sweetheart, thank you."

He's not gonna miss the chance to demonstrate he's not as worn and weathered as you think, easily bending down to set the crates on the floor by your feet. When he comes up again, he makes sure to roll up his sleeves before heading back outside to get the rest. Something an old girlfriend said was infallible and for some reason, over twenty years later, he's actually putting it to the test.

"That's all of 'em." You're crouched under the bar, pushing the boxes into the restricted space and somehow making them fit, when he sets the last one down. "While I'm here, d'you need anythin' else?"

"Uhm," Tapping over the bottles, his fingers squeeze his buckle as he watches what are delicate hands for someone as capable as you. And then you smile up at him. "I think we're okay, thanks."

It's much stronger than him, which is embarrassing to admit, but his eyes travel down your neck to your cleavage. All you did was take advantage of the fact you were inside and shed a layer and he used it to leer at you. Feeling bad, Tommy smacks his lips and nods to both women, stopping to take a much-needed breath as soon as he is back behind the door, massaging his forehead when he really actually wanted to slap himself.

"Do you think he heard us?"

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

"Sure hope not, I don't want trouble with Miller of all people."

He practically sprints outside.

"Call me crazy but I'm pretty sure Tommy Miller was checking you out." Her hands come up when you glare at her. "Just saying he was enjoying the view from above."

"You know we're taking three hours to clean a very tiny space, right? C'mon, we don't have all day."

Touching the back of your neck, you know the hair standing up is a terrible sign that you actually entertained what Tabby said, despite what rationale tried to convince you of. But you truly don't want trouble, refusing to waste time dreaming about things that were likely not there. So you pick up the abandoned rag and return to wiping down the counter, dreading the moment you'll see him again.

-----------

You're barely done drying your hair when you hear a knock on your door.

"Coming, just a second!" You yell from the top of the stairs hoping they hear it. Still wrapped in your towel, you run back to the bedroom and push your head out of the window to see Tommy in his signature jacket. "Shit."

Quickly dressing up in jeans and a T-shirt, you're descending the stairs when you realize you forgot to put a bra on. Fuck it, who knows, he might not notice.

You have to hide shaky hands behind the door when you greet him.

He's shivering and the tip of his nose is pinkish, so you step forward and nudge him inside. "Jesus, Tommy, come in."

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry, I was getting dressed." His eyes swiftly move down and then back up over your figure and you feel the air in the room become thinner. "What do you need?"

He lifts a hard-cover novel.

"Joel asked me to return this." He had volunteered. "Ellie wants to know if you have anything funnier."

The rare instance of Tommy sort of joking pulls an earnest grin from you, which quickly turns into a frown. Do you have anything remotely comical?

You take the book from his hands, already mechanically inspecting its state while walking to the room you've turned into a modest library. Child or not, you've made rules for everyone who wants to borrow from you, and the example being returned in the same condition is a crucial one.

He follows you feeling pathetically shy, strings of his heart pulled as you become lost in trying to find the kid something she might like. That concentrated furrow steals the oxygen from his lungs.

He's not shy about watching you, however, and your dextrous fingers placing the old book in its spot while running over engraved titles that could satisfy Ellie's request.

"What the fuck in here is funny?"

"Funnier. Just has to be funny-er."

He notes, trying to help, but you mostly ignore him. So he lays back, leaning his hips against a desk in the corner, and watches your profile as you take your time choosing the right book.

Your jeans are a little baggier than he's used to seeing you in, but he can still trace the shape of your ass. He thinks about having caught you fresh off a shower. Your hair looks fluffy and smells of some sweet fruit he can't think of right now. And then your breasts, which he immediately noticed were not restricted beyond your T-shirt, perfectly pronounced by the fabric clinging to them.

"Ah, duh."

You tap the side of the shelf with ringed fingers - did you put them on for whoever was at the door or did you shower with them? When you touch yourself, do you keep them on? God, he needs to stop - moving to the other side of the room and getting on your tiptoes to reach a book at the top.

Tommy crosses the room slowly, stopping right in front of you and looking at the cover.

You had never noticed he towered over you, he seemed so much shorter next to Joel. To be fair, you had never been this close to him. Tabby saying he enjoyed the high view he had of you earlier echoes through your mind and you clear your throat, hand coming to your neck to mindlessly scratch at it while you give him a brief rundown of the example.

"It's, uhm, kind of a challenging read so you can tell her she can take as long as she wants with it."

"Is it funny?"

He's joking with you again, so close the air out of his nose pushes the hair away from your face, velvety tone sounding especially provocative.

"In that layered, twisted sense of humour style, yes. Honestly, I think it's right up her alley."

"Sounds like you know your literature."

Such a simple word shouldn't sound so sensual just because he's saying it, in his accent.

"Sometimes I feel so deficient because of FEDRA's shitty education, I'm just trying to catch up on the off chance the world goes back to normal and I have to offer it something again." His eyes raise from the book and it takes everything in you not to look away, kind smile making you feel queasy. You actually feel horrible for admitting you think you're a little bit stupid, so you move on fast. "Believe it or not, most of them came with annotations, so it's not really me. It's whoever was studying them first."

"That's kind of how it goes, though, right? I mean, you read someone else's thoughts and then come up with your own. Plus, stupid people don't know the word deficient." Despite the nerve-wracking eye contact, you find enough strength in yourself to give him an appreciative smile. "Anyways, it's nice to see this other side 'f you."

You take a step back. "Other side?"

"Well, you know, I practically only see you hunting, on patrol or helpin' my brother skin a deer. This is nicer."

It's like a bucket of cold water. It's your fault for even giving a shit that you're so unappealing it surprises him you read.

"Right." Your insecurity instantly shows in your voice, so you cough and turn away from him, pretending to dust off the shelves. "I get it."

Tommy doesn't move. His mind is whirring trying to figure out what your sudden removal from his personal space meant. You're reserved, sure, but he's never seen you embarrassed.

"What? What did I say wrong?"

Even with the uncomfortable chuckle underlining his words he sounds so fucking sincere it heats your skin. What would Tabby do if this was her and Joel? How would she graciously come back from this?

"Nothing." Your hands are tucked away in your back pockets and you smile at him. It's fake and empty, but it's the best you can do. "Do you need any-"

"I just thought-" You speak over each other again, which makes him laugh. But you look away from him. He feels an overwhelming need to explain himself. "I overheard you and Tabitha talking the other day."

"OhmyGod." Your hand comes up to cover your eyes in shame and he feels worse, rushing out an apology. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

Tommy changes his footing, a deep frown taking over his face. "Tell who?"

You're hugging yourself by this point, gesturing nervously at the man in front of you, ready to make a plea in your messy friend's name.

"Joel. You didn't tell him?"

His stomach sinks.

"You were talking about Joel?"

"Well, yeah." Now you're chewing on your fingernail, bugged-out eyes crashing him into reality. "Fuck, this is so- I don't know how much you heard but I didn't really mean it."

Tommy is three years younger than Joel, who you basically called a dusty sack of bones, so hearing your words must have put any consideration he had for you under the ground.

He's stuck furrowing his brow at the book.

"I really am sorry you heard that. But you won't tell him, right?"

"It's fine. Secret's safe with me."

He finally comes back to himself, shaking the book in his hand and leaving you in the improvised library. When the sound of the front door shutting hits your ears, you allow a guttural groan to leave your chest.

How did it get so much more embarrassing than it already was?

-----------

No, he doesn't tell Joel that the young woman he had a secret pining for was actually pining for his own brother.

But he watches both of you more closely when you leave for the day. You act pretty composed next to someone you wanted to do undignified things to. He shudders.

His annoyance quickly turns into comical tragedy, bitterly laughing at the whole thing.

It's just he really doesn't think Joel aged that well. Maybe for someone in their age range whose options were scarce in Jackson, but for a gorgeous woman like you, it was such a waste.

Then it dawns on him that, fuck, that's probably what you think of him. He laughs so loud it attracts the eyes of the people passing by him. You made him crazy.

He spends the rest of his day buried in construction work.

The thing is Joel's so...rugged. The man snarls more than he speaks. He is either in the woods, from where he comes back sweaty and dirty, or blending in with the furniture in the house with Ellie. Bless him, but he's unsalvageable.

Maybe that's it. You like the lonely, borderline non-verbal, oblivious ones. He can actually see it now. You were great hunting partners, quiet and objective, maybe that's all you want in a man.

He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't hear one of the other men working by his side calling his name. "It's getting dark out. Aren't you going to trivia night? Shannon asked about you, you know."

There's a goofy smile on the man's face that he immediately writes off. He didn't talk about women like that before, he's not gonna start now. That's something his brother taught him. If you run your mouth about women, the less likely you are to get any. It worked wonders for him. But apparently, he's completely lost it.

"Right behind you, Earl."

He wasn't gonna go, but then, of course, trivia night is when you're usually behind the bar helping Julian. He was just gonna drink and watch.

He's surprised to see Joel is there, in a team with Tabitha and Ellie. You're right where he thought you'd be, hands on your hips as you listen to the man most likely complaining that you fucked up his crate system.

Before he can get a drink, Shannon and Earl pull him to their table.

An hour consisting of getting every answer wrong is more than polite enough, so he excuses himself to the bar.

"Hi!"

You greet him with such a beautiful wide grin that he instantly resents Joel. Is your good mood due to spending most of your day with his brother or the realization that he in fact did not spill your secret?

He asks for a drink so that he can linger around for a minute.

Your eyes are moving through the crates under the bar when the man next to you sighs.

"Right in front of the Rosé, which you shoved into the fucking pits of hell down there."

"I think, Julian, that if someone living through the end of the world orders a glass of Rosé it is your duty as a self-proclaimed expert to suggest they order anything else."

Tommy chuckles, seemingly happy to watch your incessant bickering as you make his drink, and you are happy to make it for him.

It's a relief to see he didn't get completely pushed away by the odd conversation you shared and, even better, he stuck to his word. Joel seemed none the wiser during your hunting trip. Of course, he doesn't seem like the kind of man who would betray your trust over something so trivial. You have to suppress a ridiculous dreamy sigh.

Still, you can't pretend you didn't stay up that night thinking about what he said. Not that it hadn't already crossed your mind that you weren't the most desirable woman in Jackson, but it stung to hear it said so clearly.

When you hand him the finished drink, you can feel your smile falter.

"Maybe you should go back, the next round is about to start."

Tommy glances behind his shoulder to the table where they didn't seem too bothered by his absence.

"Think they're doomed with or without me."

Your hands find the back pockets of your jeans and it reminds him of the tragic scene at your cabin.

"Shannon's smart. Went to a university and everything, didn't she?"

It comes out a lot more biting than you had intended and you have to physically resist the urge to cringe at your insecurity rearing its ugly head again.

He doesn't seem to pick up on it, instead timidly shaking his head and smiling behind his glass. "Yeah, think so, 'm not sure."

You don't know where else to look as he sips his drink, feeling the awkwardness of that previous moment returning.

"Your brother's team is doing well."

Pointing your chin to the score kept on a tiny chalkboard, they are indeed in second place.

"Mostly Ellie, I'd say." The burn of the alcohol washes down his throat and he can't resist the dig at his own blood. "I doubt Joel retained any academic knowledge, he could barely do it then."

A hand slides through his locks to hide the shiver jealousy causes in him. But you don't seem to care, snorting at his words.

"Oh, I'm sure. But Tabby's wits are unmatched, alright? Even if she is stupidly reckless at times." You give a quick glance around you to make sure Julian is out of earshot. "And I know she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to impress your brother."

Albeit at the expense of your best friend, it was kind of rewarding to have an inside joke with Tommy. Possibly bolder than you should risk being, you lean closer to him, supported by your forearms. Not bold enough to look him in the eyes this close yet.

"Thank you, by the way, for not selling her out. I told her she was out of her depth since Joel is so closed off - and I promise what I said was just to try and spook her out of it - but I guess she's not letting up."

Tommy follows your eye line to where his brother sits in between the young girl and your friend, who's not at all subtle about smiling and batting her lashes in Joel's direction.

Holy fuck.

"Wait a goddamn second."

His voice gets significantly rougher and his eyes narrow. You want to move back but you're frozen in place. His finger comes up, pointing between you and the other side of the room.

"You were talking about Joel. And Tabitha. Your friend is the one fantasizin' about my brother?"

You shush him, desperately clinging to his gesturing hand and pinning it to the counter.

"Why do you look so happy right now? Yes, we've been through this already!"

The way his smile grows three sizes makes you question his processing abilities but also if your friend might have a chance with the man.

"For fuck's sake, woman, I thought-" His eyes are quickly flicking between yours, and you feel him softly hold your hands. "I thought..."

It takes you a minute and then it comes crashing down. You sober up quickly, standing straight and letting your hands slip from his.

You take a deep breath, suddenly capable of maintaining eye contact.

"What did you think, Tommy?"

While his absurdly lovely eyes look up at you, Julian sneaks beside you with two bottles in hand.

"Can you put these in the freezer for me?"

"Sure."

You barely register the alcohol being shoved into your hands and swinging the door into the kitchen. The icy breeze of the freezer is what brings you back.

It's truly ridiculous that your legs are shaking this bad and puking in the trash can seems like a real threat right now.

So, yes, you're acting like a teenager. But is it your fault you haven't been this attracted to another human being since your school days? As far as you knew, you weren't even capable of these feelings anymore.

And isn't it equally horrible and wonderful that there's a chance he feels the same way? For you, of all people. You're lucky to even experience that past teenagehood, let alone well into an apocalypse.

When you return, chugging half of a beer, he's gone. You spot him back at Shannon and Earl's table.

You've never seen him more casual, back against the wall and big boot propped up on the spindle of the woman's chair, and yet you can pinpoint one vein in his neck that's pulsing like crazy.

At that moment, he catches you staring. Both of you quickly look away and you hand Julian the second beer you had grabbed, clinking the bottles in the name of a long night.

Tommy has to ask Shannon what time fucking trivia is scheduled to end. She says eleven. So he would probably have to wait until one, one-thirty for the Tipsy Bison to clear out. He could always make up a white lie - you were assigned to patrol in the morning or something. Anything to get you out of there.

While he waits, he has to endure conversations he can't be bothered to pay attention to, even entertaining his brother for a while. He truly hates himself for feeling vindicated, hiding his petty smile behind his fist while they talk.

To be fair, you didn't say anything about how you felt toward him. He just knew you weren't after his brother. But if the big hopeful eyes you gave him tonight - paired with the nervous way you acted in your library - mean anything it's that he isn't allowing room for any more misunderstandings.

Every five minutes or so he looks at the clock, legs bouncing in anticipation like he's a damn teen.

-----------

Julian and you make a good team, so by the time there's only a handful of people left at the bar, you have basically already finished cleaning the place.

He's entertaining the group of young men at his end while you set the last glass on the drying rack. With the corner of your eye, you can see Tommy - back in his glorious denim jacket - saying goodnight to Earl outside.

Your heart is very close to pumping out of your chest, and that familiar cold shock shoots up your spine, neck hair standing up. All at the prospect of this much older man waiting for you, for undisclosed reasons.

He walks back inside as you're drying your hands, unrelenting in his eye contact. Can he tell you're close to taking a chunk out of the inside of your cheek?

"Can I trouble ya for a last one, Julian?"

Tommy takes his seat at the opposite end of the bar. You have no choice but to stand there and pretend to wipe down dry surfaces.

A few minutes later, the young men are turning in and waving their goodbyes. Still four fingers left of beer in his bottle.

Your assigned co-worker stops next to you and leans almost all of his body weight against your side, his tattoed arm around your shoulder, yawning.

"Jules, you can go, I'm almost done. Plus..." Hopefully, his half-asleep state covers your audible anxiousness. "Tommy can help me lock things up."

His head turns back to look at the single man sitting at the bar, and for a moment you think he might be suspicious of something. But if there's something you like about Julian is that he's got a mean face and always sticks to his own business, no one else's.

"Thanks, kiddo." He lays a kiss on the top of your head and turns when he's halfway out the door. "I'm trusting you, Miller. What am I saying, you pretty much run this place, do whatever you want."

A nervous chuckle passes your lips but you can't help but cringe at the nickname. Julian is older than you, so 'kiddo' is perfectly appropriate. But he's a good ten years younger than Tommy.

There's an inevitable awkwardness when you turn around. He's already looking at you.

"What can I help ya with?"

You notice the change. He's not drunk, not completely sober, he's flirting.

"Maybe put these in the freezer while I clean those last few glasses?"

"Yes, ma'am."

He circles behind the bar - and like a coward, you immediately turn your back to him - and picks up the box with ease, disappearing into the kitchen.

Comfortable three minutes pass by as you finish putting everything in place and he returns to the bar with no more bottles to carry. He actually comes across as totally innocent when he looks up, waiting for another order from you.

Terrified to disappoint him, you point out the buckets of dirty ice, rag water and spilled alcohol. "Need to throw those out back."

Tommy promptly picks up both buckets and you know the reason for his giggling is because of the way you rushed to hold the door for him.

You open the back door so he can throw the water out in the snow, whispering an earnest 'careful' as he stamps down the two steps so sincerely his heart truly flutters.

He perches the empty buckets on two nails on the wall and turns back to you, who's leaning on the doorframe, one foot planted firmly on the last step and the other on the second.

The weak lamp outside shades his thighs - and most importantly, his nose - so perfectly that you have to stop yourself from whining.

"So you thought we were talking about Joel. But you only figured out it was for Tabitha tonight. Which means that for the past few days, you've been thinking I wanted to fuck your brother?"

Tommy can't suppress the chuckle that explodes out of him from honest shock at your crudeness, especially mixed with how ridiculously serious you look.

"To put it bluntly, yes." He speaks slowly, savoring the moment. "But, initially, I didn't even know it was Joel you two were talking about."

He delights in the way your whole expression shifts into genuine hesitation.

"Well, then-"

Your arms are crossed, brow adorably caved in as you look into the sky trying to figure it out on your own, as if he isn't right there with confessing eyes and a thirsty mouth.

"Can't tell you how hard it was to hear you thought I was a frail old man, sweetheart. But somethin' about 'rob him blind of his dignity' was promising."

Just as he hoped, he managed to catch the exact moment realization flashes across your beautiful eyes, lips leisurely pulling up into a grin. He comes close to losing it when you bite them to hide your embarrassment.

"I am surprised you're up this late." His turn to blush and look away from your teasing. "But frail is not what my thoughts call you."

"No?" Tommy purrs, licking his lips and coming up to the last step before you. You're still slightly above him, but he wouldn't have to stretch much. "So you're not put off by the age gap?"

He's on the brink of giving in but he needs to make sure you understand and are okay with this first.

Your eyes soften and then quickly sharpen again when you lean forward. "Put off? No. Curious? So bad."

Just that easy, your lips brush and Tommy closes the distance. A large hand envelops the side of your face, his thumb caressing up your cheekbone. Without much thought, you take a step back while grabbing a fistful of his collar, bringing him up with you.

A shiver runs down your spine when you can feel the switch in the height difference, Tommy now towering over you and pulling you flush to him by the back of your neck. His warm touch is enough to pull the first whimper from your lips.

Quickly, he disconnects your mouths and leans back on his heels, still cradling your face. As if his looks weren't enough, he smells woodsy, like vintage expensive furniture.

When the depression in between his brows doesn't give, you start feeling nervous again, realizing that you might've not thought this through. This is Joel's brother, Maria's second hand, the closest thing Ellie has to an uncle. It could end really badly for you.

A joke slips out before you can stop it. "Kinda hoped you would last longer than this."

He laughs, sliding his hand under your hair and bunching up the locks in his fist, short fingernails scratching your scalp. The way your sweet eyes flutter closed and delicate fingers cling to his jacket tightens the feeling in his stomach. How does he tell you that you almost feel too good to take? That the sound you made was the stuff of dreams and he's scared of what you can do to his reality.

It's insane that he spent all this time craving you, thinking about showing you what he could do, and now he's hesitant.

"Tommy," It's barely a whisper. "What's wrong?"

His heart breaks a little from the audible insecurity in your voice, despite how meekly you spoke.

"Just wanna make sure I don't ruin somethin' precious."

The laugh comes from your lips now, your eyes opening to invade his. "Fuck, I was counting on you doing just that. You have something to prove to me, old man."

As if you read his mind, that wanton admission was the exact switch Tommy needed flipping.

His fingers slide from your neck and curl around your wrist at the same time as he turns around to shut the door. When he turns back, he wastes no time forcefully pulling you to him.

Lips clashing, you whimper again when you feel his tongue pushing against yours. Tommy tastes like bitter whisky and cinnamon sticks.

With unapologetic hands around your ass, you're picked up without a struggle and set down on a cold steel surface. He's already doing so much better than you had experienced before.

"Tommy, your jacket." You whisper in between sinful sloppy kisses. His hands come up to try and help you with the buttons, but you quickly shove them away and redirect his touch to your thighs. "No, that's mine."

You were very serious about it, the commanding tone not helping the painful growing stiffness in his jeans. He has to hold back from humping the fucking table when your calves wrap around him.

The higher his hands travel up your legs, the hotter the need in your core grows, and the seam of your pants isn't going to help much when what you desire is probably a lot more girthy and satisfying.

When you slide the jacket down his arms, you take advantage of the moment to cup his bulge, and he immediately buckles. His hands fly to your waist and the squeeze is both painful and delicious.

"Fuck, angel-" He practically growls in your ear. If this was another one of his shower thoughts he wouldn't have bothered stalling, but he's dedicated to proving himself to you. "Do ya think you can hold on a little longer? I need to see my good girl's pretty tits."

Your halted movements don't go unnoticed by him, soothing hands back over your thighs. No one's ever been that filthy, needy and thoughtful with you before.

Doing your best to keep eye contact, you curl his fingers around the hem of your shirt and let him pull it over your head, revealing the strawberry-red bra.

You might actually kill him.

Before he can attach his lips to your chest, you push him back, gripping the remaining fabric on his upper body and rushedly pulling it off. His torso is taut and tanned, fine dark hair painting the muscles and highlighting his sturdy build. The sound of your scoff surprises him.

"Of course you look this good in your fifties. Seriously, Tommy?"

"I'm tellin' you, I'm a very active man, princess."

With that, he pulls you by the waist of your jeans, biting into your neck at last. As his teeth trail down to your breasts, his hands sneakily unbutton your jeans. If he did plan it he's fucking evil, because the same moment his lips attach to your left nipple, his hand slips under your panties.

Your gasp is loud, pulling on his pristine curls as revenge. His tongue swirls devotedly over your breast, fingers curling torturously slow inside.

"Holy fuck, Miller." Your nails scratch as low on his back as you can reach, feeling his muscles tense up. "We're wrong for doing this on top of the fucking table."

Maybe childishly, the thought of there being a 'we' between you and Tommy fucking around is enough to make your walls clench on his fingers, but then he circles your clit lazily and you have to bury your head on his neck to muffle your moan.

You can't help but grind down on his hands, brain completely fogged by your urgent need, and when you do you end up knocking your hips into him and he groans.

"Lift." He almost rips the jeans down your legs, taking your shoes off in record time. "That's far from the worst thing I'm gon' do to you, sweetheart."

All of these pet names are leading you down an irreversible path. But Tommy doesn't give you enough time to think about that, pulling your underwear to the side and getting on his knees.

Your hands are white-knuckling the edge of the table in anticipation, the shiny buckle of his belt drawing your attention first. Watching the youngest Miller lock his hands under your thighs and pull you as near as possible to his mouth, gently setting your bare feet on those same dirty jeans you had seen him wear all the time, was probably the closest you'd ever get to experiencing immersive art in this world.

Tommy hooks his index and middle finger under the cotton piece, yanking it as much as he can without actually ripping it, but you definitely hear a tear. Then his beautiful mustache is burning against your clit as he sucks on as much of you as his mouth can take.

When his tongue comes into play, you know it won't take much longer. Unlike him, you have nothing to prove, you're only here to enjoy yourself.

"Tommy, baby, please. I don't think I can-" It's a pathetic plea, more similar to a whine. "I'm-"

The knot deep below is on the verge of breaking when Tommy reinserts his fingers, arching them perfectly into the most important spot, and your hand desperately grips his curls.

Before you can scream, Tommy comes up and silences it with his own lips, tongue pushing your noise down your own throat. Your body shakes and he helps you ride his fingers with his free hand on your waist, your arms wrapped around his neck for support.

When he finally lets you breathe, noses bumping, you catch the obnoxious smirk on his face.

His hands soothe your back. "Did I hear that right, princess, you called me 'baby'?"

As if you weren't already in a dire state, he's decided to use it against you, while purposefully intensifying his maddening accent. Blanking completely for good answers, you swallow roughly. "I- I didn't mean to."

"Don't stop for me, I don't mind."

The sight of his long dimples when he grins pisses you off to the point of pulling him for a rough kiss with a plan, enjoying his incredulous laugh when you bite into his lip.

"Now, how the hell am I supposed to hide that, hm?"

"Not my problem."

For the first time tonight, you see his lovely dark eyes turn cloudy, tongue poking the wound you just gave him.

"Scared me for a sec, angel, thought I might not see that wild side of yours tonight. I'm not done with you yet."

He takes your mouth again, feeling rewardingly comfortable doing it, and snakes up to unclasp your bra. As soon as it falls, his hands are unashamedly grabby.

Despite how spent you feel, it's remarkably easy for him to pull more whimpers from you. Something about the way his touch just fits. When he locks your legs around him and picks you up again, your sore muscles feel grateful.

He only puts you down when you recognize the scratchy feeling of the back door against your shoulders.

You wait patiently and quietly, still catching your breath, as his calloused hard-working fingers take their time sliding your underwear down your legs and then shoving them in the back pocket of his jeans.

Without taking his eyes off your body, Tommy starts undoing his pants, buckle first. The sound of the metal sets your core on fire again and you subconsciously rub your thighs together. Of course he sees it, smiling with his eyes and holding your chin with his thumb.

"Good girl."

He lets you get away with an eye roll and a half-hearted huff, aware you're just a little embarrassed. After all, it's a sight he never imagined he would be privileged enough to see - your naked, worked body waiting to take more of him.

When he finally frees himself, you can hear your breath hitching, and he probably can too. Before you can stare at the sculptural veins for too long, your eyes close in humorous dejection. You're never gonna find another man like this.

Your salivating mouth doesn't go unnoticed by him, large palm raising your head again.

"Listen to me. I promised I'd show you what I can do, so we're not doing that tonight, alright?"

Picking apart his words, your eyes lift slowly, challenging. "Not tonight? Don't promise more than you got, Miller."

Expert hands extend and open your neck for his lips, as he spins you around and helps you lean against the door.

"One night ain't enough for everythin' I wanna do to you, princess." Your hair is swept over to your front, caring touch sliding down your back and guiding your hips back into him. You can feel his length grazing your swollen clit, inhaling sharply. "Now, just nod for me if my good, perfect girl is ready to take my cock."

Resting your forehead on the door, you take another deep breath and nod.

He slides all the way inside, completely stretching you out, and you have to bite your hand to keep from screaming, tears already pricking at your waterline.

"Is this okay?"

Your hand also muffles the whine you release at how shaky his voice comes out, dripping lust for you. When your lips detach from your blemished skin, you answer him.

"Shit, Tommy, you're perfect."

His forehead bumps your shoulder as he chuckles and you're trying really hard not to think about how cute that is. "I'm gon' move, yeah?"

Nodding seals your fate once more.

Tommy removes himself halfway, slowly putting himself back in, and the sticky noises live up to scenarios you only ever dreamed of. Pleasure like this existing was something you had completely lost hope in.

"Need you to keep talkin' to me, princess."

"Yes, Tommy, please just-" His left hand snakes around your waist and slides down your front to apply pressure to your clit. "Fucking move, please."

He can barely call what's left of your voice a whine, it's a needy little croak. And it drives him fucking crazy.

Pulling and pushing again, he starts with a slower pace, delighting in the constrained noises you let out with the smallest thrusts. What he's keeping from you is that he is simply setting you up to really start fucking you, framing your figure snugly against his strong thighs so that you can feel everything without having to make any effort. He was not bluffing about showing you how good he is.

Picking up his rhythm, he can hear you struggle to breathe a little.

"I don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart."

You have the nerve to laugh.

"Getting my expectations dangerously high."

Just like that, Tommy thrusts into you so hard you slip from your elbows to your hands, almost crushed against the door. The sadist in him really enjoys your first full moan.

"You want it rough, baby?"

Honestly, your throbbing clit could answer for you. "Yes, I do. Fuck me as hard as you can, Tommy."

With nothing holding him back, he pushes himself into you until his balls are clapping against your ass, and then plain rails you.

His strokes are so massively powerful you're pushed to your tiptoes, body completely wrapped by him, feeling the tip sliding inside and hitting your cervix over and over.

You're rendered speechless, uncontrollable moans not even registering to your ears muffled by the absurd sound of flesh hitting flesh and your own juices being fucked into you, coating his cock.

"God, you're so fucking good, ángel." He's whimpering in between short breaths, movements never faltering, and you can feel his belly caving in and out against your back. "Perfect fucking pussy, ya lo sabia."

You grab onto his arm, nails digging into his skin, and he knows you're close. So he slows down again, cock fucking up into you, while the pressure he had on your clit becomes a rubbing.

"Tommy-"

You can't manage more than that right now.

"I know, I know, you can finish, baby. It's okay." Walls clenched around him, your body shudders a couple of times, nails leaving marks on his arm. "That's it, my good girl."

It's only when you're done squirming and your grip on him loosens that he picks up the pace again. Almost instantly, you're whimpering and blabbering complete nonsense.

He's so close, but he doesn't want to stop until he has proven to you that not only he can make you come, he can overstimulate you until you're mewling.

It doesn't take long and you're scratching up his skin once more, this time orgasming with his name ringing out from your throat repeatedly. Then he stops.

The act of trying to pull out after he stopped, your walls letting go, is so excruciating that he ends up thrusting again and you whine in exhaustion. He laughs against your neck.

"That's your fault."

You're so used up you actually mutter I'm sorry.

He takes mercy on his pretty baby and removes himself completely, not wasting any time before catching your slumping body and turning you around. His hand keeps a careful pace around his painfully pulsing cock until your eyes open.

You watch him tug on himself, one arm extended to the door, large biceps flexing while white fluid spurts from the head. He tries to look at you for as long as he can, but his eyebrows almost knot together and his eyes screw shut, groans breaking through gritted teeth.

He looks gorgeous when he finishes, weight leaning on you as he tries to recover, moaning and panting deliciously into your ear.

Your hands are running up and down his back soothingly when he steps back, pulling your legs around his waist and picking you up. You could spend eternity embraced with him, but he sets you back on the floor next to your discarded clothes.

Once you're both dressed, turning off the lights, you lock the back door and he waits in comfortable silence. He's in his denim jacket and worn boots, blushing nose and visible breath in the snow, same as always but also prettier than ever.

Before you can return to reality and say goodnight, Tommy grabs your hand and leads you all the way to his cabin without uttering a word.

He helps you into the shower and you pick some snowflakes off his hair and mustache.

When you're in his bed, changed into one of his flannels, he speaks.

"It doesn't have to happen again if you don't want to."

You scoff. "What are you, the Mary Poppins of fucking? Finding miserable women and thrusting happiness back into their lives, then leaving?"

He laughs at your terrible offhanded joke. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Good, I don't want you to."

Tommy sees your big hopeful eyes again and doesn't fight the urge to cradle your face and kiss you, long and sweet.

"You know all I learned is that I should call you old more often, right?"

He pecks you again, laughing into your lips and grabbing your ass so he can pull you flush to him.

"Such a smart girl."

#the last of us fanfiction #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #gabriel luna!tommy #tv!tommy miller

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unseededtoast · 13 days

Text

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Seventeen

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Dread sets in and I realize there may be no way for us to escape death this time.

"Joel. Joel come on it's time to get up." My fingertips gently rock his shoulder. After watching him for any signs of consciousness for a few seconds, I realize I'm going to have to get rougher.

"Joel. Come on." My palm presses into his shoulder and my voice is louder. This man sleeps like a rock. With a third hard push to his shoulder, he snorts slightly and his eyes fly open. For a second he looks panicked, but once he sees me next to him he calms down.

"What?" His voice is raspy and he's confused, still in that between conscious and unconscious stage of waking up.

"It's time to go." I gently tell him and move so he has space to properly wake up.

He stretches out with a groan and I do my best to keep my eyes from wandering down his torso as his shirt lifts ever so slightly with the stretch. My teeth bite down hard on the inside of my cheek and I mentally scold myself for even entertaining the thought of looking at Joel in any way other way than a travel partner. The cool metal chain around my neck sends a pang of guilt through me, and quickly sobers my thoughts.

Joel stands from the ground and shakes out his limbs and I follow suit, grabbing my bag off the ground. As Joel gets himself ready I readjust my holsters and try to fiddle with anything that will get my mind off of what I just did.

"Ready?" He asks as he slings his rifle over his shoulder.

"Yeah." I nod and we take off down the road.

Thankfully it's a lot more tolerable to walk in the coolness of the night. However, I may have underestimated how eerie it would be. Paranoia dances in the corners of my mind, convincing me that every shadow is a clicker and every noise is a murderer.

Traveling in the dark reminds me of Boston and how I found the children's bodies. The shadows hid evil doings there so why would it be any different out here?

Flashes of the boy's body behind the dumpster and the girl's rattling breaths infiltrate my mind and amplify my paranoia. The culprits could be out here, they could be anywhere. According to the map, they've covered a lot of ground so who's to say they're not slinking in these shadows right now?

The muscles in my body tighten with anxiety and I'm unable to keep my fingers from brushing the metal hilt of my curved blade. Joel's calm and collected demeanor starkly contrasts the thoughts sounding off in my head and I wonder how he's not afraid.

In the distance I see what looks to be a bigger town, and I sling my bag around to grab the map. The material crinkles in my hands and I squint in the dim light to see what town we're coming up on. It doesn't look to be too big, but it's not small either. This place was likely up-and-coming before outbreak day.

As we approach the outskirts of the town, I reach down and grab my curved blade. Anything from infected to raiders could be lurking about, and they would have the home field advantage here. The streets appear to be desolate and abandoned, I can't seem to find any sign of life. Wind gusts between the buildings and the crisp air raises goosebumps over my arms with a shiver as we continue deeper into the town.

"We should probably check out these buildings, see if there's anything we can find." Joel's voice is quiet and raspy. He's looking at all the buildings surrounding us and I nod.

"Sounds good." I say and follow him into the first building.

The floorboards are coated in dust and dirt, there are no footprints to be found. Which is a good thing, but it seems too convenient to me. Why is this town utterly abandoned? It's got the bones for a good little settlement. Joel and I crouch down and look through the aisles for supplies we can use. He heads towards the back and I stay up front, trying to push intrusive thoughts from my head. Sure, this is kind of how the last town went but unlike that town, there's nobody here.

On an empty shelf I find an old granola bar, but that's it. Everything else in here has been picked clean. Joel's rustling around is quiet, but audible, and so while I wait for him to meet me up front, I keep watch out of the dust-covered windows for anything that might move. Clickers are extremely sensitive to sound, and the last thing we want is to be surprised by one. Especially when we're running low on ammunition.

We move to the next building and fall into the same pattern; Joel goes to the back and I search the front. This store has moss covering the carpet, and I look to the ceiling to see an open hole in the roof that drips water down. Old books on the bookshelf are covered in mold, it's obvious to me that nobody has been in here for a while. I try to not breathe in the mold, but it's inevitable, it's covering almost every surface. This bookstore looks like it used to be a cute and calming place with it's naturalistic decorations, but now it's being returned to nature through mold and moss.

A spot on the floor catches my attention, the moonlight illuminates it. Peeking around one of the shelves is a rather large-looking puddle of mold, but as I step up to it I realize it's not mold, it's fungus. A very specific type of fungus. Breath catches in my throat and I hold my knife up, ready to attack if needed and peer around the shelf, to see a dead body slouched against the aging bookcase.

With the toe of my boot, I nudge the body to see if it's going to reanimate, but it doesn't. Crouching down, I get a closer look. It appears that this person was infected and someone shot them through the head after they had turned, and the cordyceps spread over the corpse. The smell of the rotting flesh burns the back of my throat and I move away quickly before I gag. My eyes intently look around for any other surprises that may be hiding in this store, but I don't see any other fungal areas.

"Look." Joel whispers as he approaches me. He has two flashlights in his hands, and I waste no time in snatching one from him.

My thumb hits the power button and I'm surprised to see a bright beam of light come from it. Joel works quick to attach his to his backpack and I try to copy him, but the straps of his bag are different from mine, and I can't figure out how to attach mine like his.

"Here, let me." Joel says after he secures his light to his bag.

Defeatedly, I hand over my flashlight and look down at the straps, curious to see if he can figure out a way to secure the light to my bag. While I still have the small one from Boston in my bag, this one will be infinitely more helpful because I can still have both of my hands free.

His fingers lift the strap from my shoulder so he can see it better and my eyes are glued to the way his fingers are picking at the material. Through the dim light, I see his eyebrows furrow as he tries to think. He hands the light back to me and walks over to a rotating shelf that's filled with bookmarks and grabs one.

His eyes meet mine briefly before he looks down to the bookmark and starts tearing pieces of it off. It looks like he found some sort of leather material bookmark, and he's tearing the tassels of it off. Each of the tassels are joined together with a single knot, and Joel lifts my backpack strap once more. His fingers brush right below my collarbone and his warm fingers feel nice against my cool skin. He wraps the tassels around the bag's strap and reaches for my flashlight once more. The flashlight is held tightly against the strap, and the bookmark tassels are used to secure it in place.

Once he's sure it's secure enough, he steps back from me, taking the warmth of his body with him. The light stays in place, and seems snugly fixed to my bag.

"Thank you." I keep my voice quiet for fear of disturbing something in the empty streets. Joel nods his head stiffly, and I remember what I was going to do before he came with the flashlights. With a motion of my hand, I beckon him to follow me and I show him the corpse. Just like I did, he crouches down to inspect it.

"Looks a few weeks old." He concludes, and I would have to agree. The rate of decay looks to be maybe a month old, especially given the humid conditions it's been left in.

"There might be more around." I speak my thoughts and he stands back to his full height next to me.

"We move quietly." He reinforces and we move on to the next store.

The two of us clear seven more stores before we reach the last one on this street. There have been no more corpses found, so maybe it was just a one-off kind of thing.

Joel pushes his shoulder against the door of the last building, but it's blocked from the other side. He huffs with frustration and I go to look through the window, needing to see why this one has been barricaded and the others haven't. I don't have to look for long before I see another corpse laying on the ground, reduced to bones and hair. There are guns surrounding the body along with miscellaneous other supplies.

"We should get in there." My fingertip presses against the glass as I look back to Joel. He comes and peeks inside the store, quickly agreeing with me.

We go around back and try the door there, but it's blocked off as well. Whoever was inside really did not want any visitor. Moonlight gleams off a broken window just out of reach, giving me an idea.

"What if I can get through that window?" My eyes dart around for something to stand on.

"There's broken glass all over the sill, you'd shred your hands." Joel shoots the idea down, but the idea of getting all those supplies is too sweet to just let go.

"Help me find something that I can lay over it." I suggest, looking around for something to stand on and something to cover the glass. Instead of arguing, Joel joins the hunt as well, and he disappears around the corner of the building.

I go around to the front of the store again, searching the main street for anything helpful. Across the street I spot a torn tarp that's trapped underneath a decaying pallet. That'll have to do. Thankfully the tarp isn't too torn and should work well enough to keep my skin from being shredded by glass shards. With the tarp underneath my arm, I rejoin Joel underneath the broken window where he's pushed a dumpster against the wall.

Without a word I lift myself onto the dumpster, where the aging metal pops underneath my feet with each step. Next, I place the tarp across the windowsill and peer inside the building, looking for any sign that something, or someone, is moving around. Thankfully I'm met with silence, and so I grip the window and pull myself up.

As I pull myself up I realize I hadn't completely thought this through. There's not enough room for me to turn around and land on my feet; I'm going to have to go through this window head first and hope for the best.

Struggling to get myself all the way through the window due to my lackluster upper body strength, I look towards the floor and see glimmering glass below me. Fantastic.

I tumble head first into the building and my hands brace my fall. Unfortunately, my palms get torn by the glass. Glancing to my hands I quickly come to the conclusion that my injuries aren't too bad, and go to move the barricade in front of the door for Joel. As I walk to the door I pick out as many glass pieces as I can, getting the biggest ones out.

A large shelving unit has been pushed in front of the door and it's too much for me to move with my hands alone. I take my bag off my shoulders and back up to the shelf, using my legs to push the shelf. Thankfully I have more lower body strength and am able to move the unit with some ease. I open the door for Joel and he joins me inside.

While he picks up supplies I use the extra light coming in from the door to find and pick out the smaller pieces of glass in my palms. The tiny cuts sting and I see where some blood is pooling in the creases of my hands. My attention is pulled from my hands to Joel as I watch him rummage through the corpse's jacket pockets. Inside of the right pocket he pulls out a small revolver and checks it over.

"Blocked himself in here with all this shit for nothin'." Joel mutters as he tucks the revolver into his waistband and moves to the left pocket.

A piece of paper beside the body catches my attention, and I go to pick it up, reading the faded words on the page.

Juliette, if you find this it means I didn't make it. I'm sorry. I got the things we needed but one of those bastards sunk their teeth into my ankle. Didn't even hear the thing. Anyways, I found some pills and I hope they do the job. Take everything and get somewhere safe. I'm sorry my love. -B

A rattling sound causes me to look up from the paper, and I see Joel with a bright orange pill canister in his hand. I hand the paper over to him, seeing a small dot of my blood soaked through the paper. My hand grabs the pill bottle from Joel and I open it up, looking to see what kind of pills they are.

Circular red pills roll around in the canister and I tip it so that one of the pills falls into my hand. Upon closer inspection I see letters on one side and numbers on the other. These aren't post-outbreak pills at all. My eyebrows raise in surprise and I put the pill back into the container and secure the lid before handing it to Joel.

"That's real oxy." I say, recognizing them from a post-surgery prescription I had years ago. Back then I was too afraid of getting addicted to finish out the script and only took a few after I got out of the hospital.

"Good as gold." Joel says and puts the pills into his bag.

The man had locked himself in here with ammunition, medicine, and food. It doesn't get any better than this. Joel puts as much as he can into his bag, and I take the rest. Once we clear this building we step back out onto the street and continue through.

There are rusting cars littering the sides of the streets, vines growing up the sides of buildings, and crumbling asphalt everywhere. My palms still sting and I try to dry the blood on my pants before it settles into my skin. I'm sure Joel will make some sort of 'I told you so' remark when he sees, but I'm going to stave off that conversation for as long as I can.

We head towards another conglomerate of retail stores to search them as well, Joel hangs back a few paces from me. By now I'm getting comfortable out here, with the lack of infected or people. If they were here, they would have shown themselves by now. Probably.

But just as soon as my paranoia begins to wind down, my foot catches on something and I trip on the uneven asphalt. A twangy sound of wire snapping echoes from my fall and a large crash sounds directly behind me.

"Oh shit." Joel breathes out as I stand myself back on my feet, disoriented from the crash. Looking behind me, I see that a shipping container now sits a few feet away from me, blocking our path from where we just came.

"What?" My voice is full of exasperation and I wipe my pebble and blood covered hands on my pant leg, thankful I didn't land on my gun. My eyes glance up to the rooftop and I see that the shipping container was rigged to a large piece of construction equipment that's positioned in front of one of the shops, and it seems that the rope hanging the container slipped.

"It was a trip wire. Whatever it was connected to is going to be here soon." He says and grabs my wrist, pulling me off of the main road and into a smaller alleyway. Familiar sounds of agonized cries and shrieks fill the air.

Unable to stop myself, I peek around the corner and see dozens of infected running out of a semi truck. It looks like the wire I tripped was also connected to the loading door of the truck. Once that wire snapped, the shipping container fell and the truck door opened, letting out the trapped infected.

"At least four clickers and six runners. Probably more." I anxiously whisper as I duck back into the alley with Joel. The infected are bound to spread out over the streets and not stay in one place, so we have to plan our move now.

"We need a vantage point." Joel strategizes as he scans the buildings around us. The screams and shrieks from the infected sound like they're getting closer.

"What about that one?" My voice wavers and I point to a building across the way. There's a window on the second story, but we'd have to run into the line of sight of the infected to reach it. Joel's eyes lock onto the window.

"That's our best shot. But we don't know if that door is unlocked." Sweat beads on his temple. Each second we waste pondering is a second that the infected use to wander toward us.

"I'll distract them while you get inside." My plan is very, very risky but I don't see another way. If the door is locked or blocked, one of us needs to stay hidden to find an alternate route.

"No." His voice is stern but the adrenaline in my veins tells me I can do this.

"Yes. I can deal with them for a little bit. We don't have another choice. Go." Our eyes meet briefly before I make my move, not allowing him to argue back.

As I step back into the street I take note of where the infected are. It appears that they're all staying relatively close to one another, but there are a few stragglers.

Joel moves behind me towards the building and I stand there silently. If he can do this without drawing their attention, that would be best. There's no reason for me to call them unless it's absolutely necessary.

With careful and attentive eyes I watch the clickers thrash and contort their bodies with every few steps. The runners are either meandering or sobbing, backs hunched over. I know that it only takes one to notice me for all hell to break loose so I don't let myself relax even for a millisecond. Even if I wanted to relax I wouldn't be able to with ten or more infected right in front of me.

Behind me I hear Joel working on the door. It must have been locked or blocked because I hear him trying to pry it open. Metal scrapes on metal and I see the closest clicker screech and begin wobbling my way. A few runners nearby get disturbed by the clicker's sudden change and they snap their heads up, noticing me immediately. My fingers find my gun strapped to my thigh and I prepare myself.

By now, all the infected have picked up on my presence. I've got twelve bullets and I have to make them count. I focus on the clickers first and use two bullets to shoot the first one. The other three are still a bit behind the runners. My mind works quickly and I realize that if I shoot the runners, that means I have to kill the clickers by hand; and that is simply not an option when there are three of them.

My gun gets switched to my left hand, and my hunting knife finds residence in my right hand. The first runner reaches me and with brute force, I thrust my knife into its skull. Blood spurts out of the wound as I yank the blade from the soft tissue. Another runner is close behind, and it swipes at me, but thankfully my feet force me back a few steps. As the runner is winding up for another grab, I use the opportunity to force my knife into its eye socket. The body drops instantly, and I have half a second before another runner is on me.

The third runner knocks me back, my hand fumbling the hunting knife. My forearm wards off the runner's teeth from finding my flesh and with a grit of my teeth, my left hand comes up to shoot the runner. As the body falls to the asphalt, my attention turns and I see a multitude of infected flooding into the street. The gunshots must have called them. There's not time to freak out about how many infected are coming at me, another runner is screaming and lunging towards me. A bullet finds its way into its brain.

With the few seconds I have, I reach down for my hunting knife and spin it in my palm so I can kill the next runner after I dodge its attack. Behind that runner is a clicker, and I use two bullets to kill it. Three clickers charge at me in almost perfect sync, and I've got no choice but to shoot them as well, leaving me with no bullets left amongst at least forty infected.

I'm able to kill three more perfectly timed runners with my knife before they all start grouping up in the street as they run. My eyes grow wide, there's no way I can take on that crowd.

"Joel!" I yell back to him, keeping my eyes on the sea in front of me.

"Almost there!" He grunts and I hear another scrape of metal. My feet involuntarily move me backwards, away from the rushing infected. We've got about thirty seconds before they're on us.

Their teeth gnash and gnarl with hunger, clickers scream into the sky with their twisted, high-pitch calls. My feet keep taking steps back until my back is flush against the building Joel is trying to break into.

"Pull this." His rushed words force my attention away from our impending doom. I grab the crowbar wedged in the middle of the door and we both pull it together, popping the door open. Joel stands to his full height and grabs the straps of my bag and forces me into the opening. He draws his gun and shoots a few infected before he also ducks into the building.

He's got ahold of the door's handles, struggling to keep it closed as the infected descend on the building. Hurriedly, I look around for something to put in the handles to keep it from opening. A glint of metal catches my eye and I grab it, a broken piece of rebar.

"Here!" I yell out and run back to the door, sliding the rebar through the handles. Joel lets go and steps back, catching his breath.

The infected bang on the doors, trying to get in and it dawns on me that we're trapped in here. It's only a matter of time before they get in, we both know it.

"This way." Joel says and starts up the stairs of the building. I follow close on his heels and we reach the room we intended to get to, window situated in the center of the wall, overlooking the main street that's now full of infected.

Joel and I look out of the window and see a crowd at least thirty deep. That rebar isn't going to last forever, and the windows are sure to give out soon. Dread sets in and I realize there may be no way for us to escape death this time.

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