Awwwh yeah đ the dirty talk !!!!! đ§âđł đ
The Rite of Movement | drabble
âTakeout đ„Ąâ
A/N: I sent @strang3lov3 post shower titty pics in my takeout undiesâŠand then she said I should write baby love wearing those said panties around Joel đ€ so I did the mf thing and wrote it! P.S that is yours trulyâs fine Italian ass in the moodboard! đ
~word count: 1.4k~
Summary: Friday nights are takeout nights, baby love
Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader
Warnings: smut, fluff, oral f!receiving, mentions of ouid, teasing, flirting, intimacy, daddy kink! Mommy kink??, Joel and the reader are pornstars, Joel is in his 40âs, reader is in her 30âs, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!
Friday nights were arguably your favorite night out of the entire week; takeout night, baby! Every Friday night you and Joel would pick a local restaurant to order from and this week it was your turn! Instead of simply letting Joel know where you wanted to order from, you decided to play some theatrics into it.
You were, after all, well seasoned in front of the camera.
So while Joel was downstairs, seated at the kitchen table with his jar of weed and rolling papers laid out in front of him, you slipped into one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties. The fabric had little Chinese takeout boxes printed onto the fabric. They were a high waisted, cheeky pair and you had a sneaking suspicion that Joel was absolutely going to love and devour them.
After throwing on one of his well-loved shirts, you headed downstairs to greet him in the kitchen. He had just finished rolling a joint when he noticed you in his peripheral, his lips curved upwards into a boyish grin when he saw that your attire consisted of nothing but panties and one of his shirts: delicious.
âHey, baby love.â He tucked the joint behind his ear, turning in the chair completely so he was facing you.
âHey, baby.â You grinned, lifting the hem of his shirt up so he could get the full view of your cheeky choice of panties.
His eyes traveled from your face and all the way down the curve of your body. His eyes flickered back upwards, grin widening as he beckoned you to come closer, âOoh, howâd you know I was hungry, baby love?â He snickered, wrapping his strong arms around your waist when you were within reach and pulled you in close. He started nuzzling his face against your exposed stomach, pressing open mouth kisses here and there while his hands grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh between his thick fingers.
He brought one hand back, giving your ass a playful slap that elicited a giggle to slip past your lips as you gently carded your fingers through his soft, salt and peppered kissed curls. You leaned down, giving the top of his head a sweet peck as he hummed against your tummy.
âNo, baby.â You giggled, âME. Iâm hungry. I want lo mein and orange chicken from Fortune House.â
He let out a soft huff, tickling the sensitive hairs above your pubic bone with his enticing warm breath, âyeah, thatâs what you want tonight, baby love?â He looked up at you, resting his chin against your stomach while you gently brushed a few stray curls from his forehead.
âMhm. Are you good with that for tonight?â
âAlways down for some good Chinese takeout.â He rasped, dropping one hand from your ass so he could reach across the table and grab his wallet, âthink I wanna eat you first, though.â He chuckled, pulling out one of his cards and handed it to you.
âYou always wanna eat me, Joel.â You shook your head with a small smile playing on your lips.
âCan ya blame a man?â He focused his attention back on you, slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties and gently pulled the elastic back before letting it snap against your hip. âThese are fuckinâ adorable, by the way. Love how they look on you, baby love.â He pressed a wet kiss to your hip bone, and then the other before trailing his lips just above the delicate lace on the hem of your panties.
His eyes flickered upwards, deep pools of brown full of nothing but unbridled mischief. The look he was giving you sent heat rising to your cheeks and your thighs involuntarily clenching together.
âThank you, baby. Theyâre one of my favorite pairs to lounge in.â You hummed, keeping one hand in his hair just as he began to lower his lips, hot breath fanning your covered core. He leaned in, rubbing the tip of his nose against your covered clit, taking a deep inhale at the scent of your arousal.
âFuck me.â He grunted, lashes fluttering shut momentarily before they opened again. He kept his eyes locked on yours when he pressed a kiss to your clit, and then another, and another till there was a small wet patch forming from the moisture building up between the thin layers in the fabric.
You stifled a moan, gripping onto his hair for support, your words coming out stuttered when he dragged the flat side of his tongue from your core and all the way up to your clit. âJâJoel, the fâfood. Fuck.â
His words were muffled by his face being buried in your covered pussy as he hooked his thumb around the front of your panties and pulled them to the side. âYou have my card, baby love, call âem and place the order while I feast on ya.â He chuckled deeply, sending a series of sparks to shoot up your spine as you tilted your head back.
âOâokay. What do you want?â You reached for his phone, snatching it up quickly just as he began to suckle on your clit.
âGimme a minute, kinda busy.â You could feel him smirking against you as he swirled his tongue against you in a languid figure eight motion.
You struggled to dial the number to the restaurant with just one hand, but somehow you managed. âHi! Yes, Iâd like to place an order fâfor delivery! MhmmâIâd like an order of lo mein, orangeâchicken. Whatâsize? Uh, large for both, please!â You squeaked out, eyes rolling back into your skull when Joel had crooked his middle and pointer finger inside of your core, thrusting them shallowly.
His mouth and fingers were working in unison as your slick dripped out of you and down the side of his hand almost immediately. You struggled to keep your composure while he was working you into absolute ruin. You pulled the phone away from your ear, placing it against your shoulder for a moment.
âJoel!â You hissed, âwhat do you want, baby? Seriously JâJoel!â
He detached his mouth from you, looking up at you, beard and chin glistening in your slick as he licked his lips, âwhat was that, baby love? Sâmatter?â He teased.
You narrowed your eyes at him, struggling to not let a moan slip out and scar the poor old woman on the phone, âplease, justâtell me what you want to eat.â
âHmm.â He pondered, smacking his lips together, âan order of crab rangoon.â He leaned back in, dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit, sucking it between his lips before gently releasing it with a wet smack! âEgg rolls.â He repeated his previous action, feeling your thighs begin to quiver and tremble, âpan fried potstickers.â He suddenly ceased the movement of his fingers inside of you, and his mouth, forcing you to drop your hand from his hair to brace yourself against his shoulder, âand an order of beef and broccoli.â He added.
You swore you saw stars behind your eyes when he purposely edged you from your approaching orgasm. With a shaky hand you brought the phone back up to your ear, âhi! Sorry, I would also like an order of crab rangoons, egg rolls, pan fried potstickersâ Jesus fuckââ you stuttered, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood when he continued with his ministrations, pumping his fingers inside of you at an unruly pace while he suckled on your clit. âIâm so sorry for swearing! That just slipped outâcan I also get an order of beef and broccoli? Thank youâyeah, thatâs it!â
âYeah, thatâs it, baby love. Give it to me. Soak my fuckinâ fingers, sweet girl. Give it all to daddy.â He murmured between your thighs, mouthful of pussy.
You donât even remember saying your address, or the digits on Joelâs card when the sweet old lady let you know that the food would be delivered within the hour. You said thank you, ending the call and tossed Joelâs phone on the table before you slipped your fingers back into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you pressed his face further into your dripping cunt. âDonât you dare fucking stop now, daddy.â
He looked up at you, tongue sinfully swirling around your clit, stray strands of curls dropping from between your fingers, falling against his forehead and briefly obstructing his view, âI wouldnât stop eatinâ my girls sweet fuckinâ pussy even if the world was ending, momma.â
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Me on my way to reblog my new favorite chubby p-boy
I do wonder if chubby whiskey will end up taking his place though đ€ each of your chubby p-boys are so well written, and every fic is better than the last đ©·
You have frustrated me to a level previously unknown to myself with this fic. This fucking BASTARD. I cannot cannot cannot wait for more đ€©đ©· well done as always beef!! đ„©
an Ezra & Cricket One Shot: Brass Knuckled Debauchee
Summary: Ezra, after abusing your healing talents, returns to make good on his debt... for a price.
Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader | Rating:Â Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 4,752
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), weight gain, eating, edging, soft!dom Ezra being an overall ass, teasing, begging, crying, malfunctioning prosthetic limb, the occasional swear
Author's Notes: requested by two (count'em - 2!) lovely babes for the 900 Friendo Celebration - thank you to @xdaddysprincessxx and @morallyinept for bringing Ezra some love.
Huge thank you to @strang3lov3 , @noxturnalpascal & @bitchesuntitled for their beta badass skills and to my ever lovely beta fish, @neverwheremoonchild. None of you will understand the depths of gratitude I hold you all in.
No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!
Youâd cared for him when his appendage was newly parted from his person, after a young woman dumped him off at your meagre midwifeâs centre. Â
You hadnât delivered a baby in at least eight cycles, but you were busy tending to broken bones and crushed limbs from the mine nearby, so the idea of caring for a wound caused by a missing arm wasnât far from your everyday. Â
What was far from the standard men in your care was that this one wouldnât shut up. Truly. Youâd never met someone so close to death spew such a narrative. You almost wished to have him out of his misery just to stop his linguistic vomit. Â
Thank Kevva for sedatives. Â
You didnât even want to know his name, worried that if you had his, heâd need yours and there was no way someone this sick and wounded that could carry on like heâs memorized a thesaurus wasnât capable of performing a hex or a curse on you.Â
After three blessedly quiet and devoid-of-narration days, the open wound where his arm once hung from was no longer festering and the fever that wracked his body broke. Despite your own desire to keep him silent, you stopped administering such a high dose of the sedative, and you allowed him to regain consciousness. Â
For the first little while, all you heard was his steady, deep breathing, so you left the room to grab some water and liquified sustenance for him, figuring that when he would finally come to, heâd be hungry.Â
âTo what do⊠do I owe the pleasure?â, you heard croaked as you walked softly back into the room. Â
âOh goodâŠâ, you replied flatly. âYouâre awake and talking.âÂ
The remainder of his stay that time had revolved around you doing what you could to keep his mouth occupied enough to keep it quiet; you fed him. By the time heâd left, heâd made you aware of his name â Ezra â and bestowed a nickname on you for lack of giving your own. Cricket. He then made the terrible promise to return to see you and left with a wink and a smile. Â
Your whole body bristled at the thought of having to deal with him again.Â
*****Â
The first return visit he made, his confidence and vocabulary were still obnoxiously inflated. Whining of a bruised rib, you resumed your frustrated feeding to keep him down to two to three sentences and responses between mouthfuls. Â
The second time he returned, he stated that he had been âbrutalized by a deviant, one who you should not even be told of his true form else your fragile and virtuous mind be stainedâ. There wasnât a single mark on him, save for a bite on his only arm that looked to be self-inflicted. He enjoyed himself, smiling between bites of food.Â
By the third visit â complaining of a sprained toe - you knew that he knew that you knew what you were doing - and vice versa. Despite this, you fed him, and he ate very well. After several days of âhealingâ, he hauled himself up and it was then that you noted his flight suit looking like it was getting tighter around his middle. Â
Those visits happened in a fairly rapid succession, but a longer period â more than six cycles at least - lapsed before he darkened your doorway and approached your desk once again. Without even looking up, you knew it was him, having heard his cavalier long-form salutations being crooned out at anyone he passed approaching your unit.Â
âWhat now?â, you sighed in irritation, dropping your head into your hand, not bothering to look up at him â something you would come to regret to save yourself future embarrassment. You didnât see him close your door and lock it behind him. Â
He approached your desk, and his hand came into view along with a mechanical one; the smooth-as-silk tongued devil was now outfitted with a prosthetic arm that looked like it had been stolen from a brass skeleton and had gears added. Your eyes followed the mechanical limb up to the hem of his shortened sleeve, hiding the joint between it and what remained of his actual arm. The new colour of his clothing caught your attention, too, pulling your eyes to his torso. Yes, it was definitely a different colour. He was no longer in the moss greens and soil browns youâd associated with him. Now, he was in a dark blue flight suit with a gold zipper that looked to just be barely holding together. Â
Your brain paused to take in what was in front of you. Â
âNo more chirps for me, sweet Cricket?âÂ
His raspy, southern drawl sounded sweeter than youâd noticed before as your eyes took in the added weight on his middle. Before looking up to his face, you noted the way the zipper rippled from the strain and the clear indent his belly button made as the fabric pulled taut across his expanse. Â
His face. As soon as you took it in, you regretted not doing it first. Heâs held you in his big brown eyesâ gaze before, but youâd been able to avoid being trapped. But this time you couldnât help but let them absorb you. His smile widened as he slightly leaned forward, arms putting further weight on your desk. Â
âYou seem at a loss for word, Crick-âÂ
âYouâve been eating well.â, you managed to croak out in a somewhat aloof-sounding voice, nodding towards his middle. Â
He didnât shrink back at your comment; instead, it seemed to embolden him. âYou started me on a path of decadence that a mere man such as myself isnât able to easily shake.âÂ
He stood to his full height, eyes never leaving yours. âIs that all you noticed?â, he grinned, lifting his brass appendage, bringing the crude and simple brass hand to his face, smoothing over his moustache. Â
Your lips parted then closed and parted again before you were able to spit out, âI saw y-⊠I see you got a new⊠limb.âÂ
His eyes gleamed at you, seeing his every move had you further in his grasp. You inwardly scowled, chiding yourself on how quickly you were falling under his spell. Narrowing your eyes, you shrugged at him.Â
âLooks old.âÂ
If it stung him, he didnât show it; he simply kept that smile on his face and continued to look down at you from across the desk. âIâm not its first owner.âÂ
The pleasantries had only lasted a few more moments before Ezra moved around your desk and hovered over you.Â
âIâm here to return the favour, Cricket.âÂ
â...Favour?âÂ
âFor all the hard work you put into bringing me back to my full health.â, he cooed lowly as his brass hand cooled your cheek with its feather-light touch. Â
âItâs nothing... I was just doing my j - âÂ
He leaned over you further, cheshire grin pulled menacingly across his face. His voice slipped into a lower pitch and his eyes darted from your eyes to your mouth. Â
âDoing your job would have been to send me away when I appeared with erroneous and fabricated injuries and illnesses. You, my sweet Cricket, stepped over and above the threshold of your employment and I intend to repay you for your sweetness in full.âÂ
You sucked in a few shallow breaths and nervously swallowed. This was a side of him you hadn't seen, assuming that he was a submissive and pliant brat whoâd chosen you to dote on him. But no. There was no favour he intended to pay back. He was just sizing you up and wrangling you into his web, and now he was out loud declaring that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and fixed on you, in contrast with the gentle smile on his face. Â
âDonât be nervous, sweet Cricket. You can tend to your own wounds afterwards. Now, let me hear you chirp.âÂ
His brass arm shot out and gripped your wrist tightly and he pulled you from your seat. Dragging you to the maternity room, he tossed you onto the low soft bed. Â
âEzra!â, you squeaked as your body hit the push mattress below you. Â
He dropped to his knees and crawled up, forcing your legs apart, and his belly barely grazed your middle as his face lined up with yours. You let out an involuntary whimper.Â
âOh, sweet Cricket. How badly I wanted you on your back, making those sweet vocalizations your namesake promised me.âÂ
His flesh and bone hand gently grazed your face and moved to the back of your head, softly fisting your hair, forcing your head to stay still as he traced his nose along the contours of your face. His eyes remained half lidded and he watched as your own rolled back when he pushed his knee into the crux of your thighs, knowing he had all but your verbal consent. Â
âThis is all you need, sweet Cricket? Someone to light the way?âÂ
All you can muster as his hold on your hair tightened and his knee applied more pressure was a light whine through your parted lips. Â
You wanted to respond, but the moment you opened your mouth, Ezraâs brass arm made a clunk sound and began to shudder. Â
âOh, for Kevvaâs sake.â, he muttered, sitting up on his knees as he examined the arm. It made a mechanical sound before it shuddered again, then a higher pitched noise droned as the arm vibrated. Â
You watched him sitting between your parted legs as the realization of what he had at his disposal dawned on him. Your eyes widened as he turned and looked at you like a starved man with a wild grin. Â
âSweet Cricket, I think I could go for a bite to eat.âÂ
*****Â
Once youâd gotten some finger foods together and brought them back into the room, you found Ezra laid back in a mountain of pillows on the bed. He nodded his head towards you and raised his hand, beckoning you to him. Â
âCome on, Cricket. Tend to your weary traveller.âÂ
His eyes were glued to you, cascading up and down your form, as you hand fed him. Heâd had a few pieces of the savoury pastries when you felt the cool touch of his brass hand slide between your thighs. Â
âCurious...â, he mused as he chewed. â⊠that when I make a certain motion with my appendage, it malfunctions in such an amusing manner that I know you will find benefit in, pet.âÂ
Your brows furrow in question and before you can ask how that could benefit you in any way, the arm made that clunk sound again. You felt the vibration between your thighs and your eyes widened. Â
âEz â oh fuck!â, you gasped as he pushed his knuckle up against your mound and held it there firmly.Â
Your mouth was open, allowing shallow panting breaths to puff out and your eyes were closed with your brows pinched as the shuddering vibrations pulsed against you. Youâd never felt anything like this before in your life and you thanked Kevva. Â
The low amber tones of his voice cut through to you and pulled you out of your silent prayer. âNow, sweet Cricket. We are both here to derive enjoyment from one another given we both now have the intel on each otherâs vices. You canât go holding out on me to seek your fruition â that is not fair.âÂ
He pulled his hand from contacting your core, and your eyes snapped to his, a pleading whimper bubbling out from your pouting lips. Â
âUh-uh, Cricket. We will play fair.â, he growled in warning. His smile dropped as his features darkened, and he nodded towards your suspended hand holding a small meat-filled pastry. âDonât you dare hold out on me.âÂ
Shakily, you brought the morsel to his mouth and as he took it in and let his tongue touch your finger, his hand once again pressed against your core.Â
*****Â
Ezra had continued to eat and finished over half of platter. But every time you started to get close to your peak, he would pull his hand away, leaving you a shaking mess.Â
âP-please⊠Ezra, please!â, you begged mere seconds away from ecstasy. Â
âI am not finished, sweet Cricket.â, he said with a mouthful. âYou will be sated when I have found my fill, and we are not yet there.âÂ
You could have screamed at him, strangled him in a rage. âEzra please! I - â.Â
The warning look he gave you stopped any further pleading. Your mind reeled, trying to find some way to get relief. You could kick him out and try to finish yourself off with your fingers, but you knew it would be fruitless; youâd never gotten this worked up on your own before and you doubt that you had anything in this clinic that vibrated at that frequency. Â
As you trembled and panted, Ezra watched, amused at how clearly you were seeking a solution to the problem heâd created for you. Â
âCricketâŠâ, he cooed, soothing his biological hand up your arm and to your face. He gently guided your chin towards him. âSweet Cricket, come back to me.âÂ
When your frantic gaze met his, his eyes softened and creased as he smiled. âI will not leave you unfinished. I repay my debts, darling nurse.âÂ
You sighed in defeat, nodded, and took a deep breath. Your eyes trailed down to his noticeably rounder middle that made the already strained zipper pull at the seams of the fabric. He shifted in what looked like discomfort. Â
You put down the current half-filled plate of food and reached for the zipper tag, tugging it down. It only got to the beginning of the swell of his belly before you met resistance. You tugged a little harder, but it wouldnât budge.Â
âSuck it in.âÂ
âNow, Cricket, letâs not be hast-âÂ
âI said suck it in.â, you snapped back far more forcefully than intended. Â
Ezra froze then nodded. âSweet girl, I will try, butâŠâ You saw his middle pull in slightly. â⊠the profound conundrum I experienced in getting it onâŠâÂ
The zipper finally moved, and he groaned as his stomach expanded. âSweet Kevva⊠such relief.âÂ
You were desperate for him to touch you again, but seeing him fat and swollen before you, knowing it was your work that was filling him out. Ezra watched your gaze turn hungry and almost feral. Granted, he felt that way as he watched you teeter on the edge of falling apart over and over. He wasnât ready to let the power he held over you go, giving him the drive to get through, bite by bite. But that power began to slip the moment his vulnerable and considerably rounder middle exposed, and it left him feeling uneasy and unsure.Â
âA change of flavour⊠is needed, my sweet Cricket.â, Ezra crooned, trying to exude as much confidence he could muster, despite his self-consciousness lingering in the back of his mind. He swallowed down a moan as your blown-pupiled eyes met his. He pushed a faux-confident smile and spoke softer. âSomething sweeter, perhaps?âÂ
Letting a small huff escape, you nodded and got up from the bed, cursing him under your breath for having this much power over you.Â
As you stood in the small kitchen area, waiting for the food rehydrator to loudly prepare the freeze-dried baked goods, you didnât hear Ezra huff and grunt as he got off the bed and saunter into the kitchen. You werenât alerted to his presence until his belly hit your back and his brass hand went to your hip. Â
His nose and mouth pressed against the back of your neck, whispering filth as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed.Â
âYou leave yourself so vulnerable, sweet Cricket... back to the door, not an ounce of concernâŠ. any rapscallion of low morals could take advantage⊠of your sweet, supple figureâŠâÂ
You let out a light, breathy whine gripping his hand as he kneaded your breast. As much as you wanted his hands on you, you wanted his mouth on your own more, so you pushed your body back against his, making enough room between him and the counter for you to turn around. His brass hand stayed on the curve of your waist, not offering any resistance, and his other hand cupped your cheek, holding it in place while he kissed you softly. His lips moved against yours like he was able to read your mind, or maybe even needed this point of contact as badly as you did. His mouth parted and his tongue pushed for entrance into your mouth, and once it was granted, the kiss fevered and boiled over. You felt your core throb with need and want, soaking your pants and already ruined underwear, and he crowded you against the counter. So wrapped up were you in his mouth and teeth and tongue, that you didnât feel his brass hand move from your waist.Â
In one swift move, Ezra shoved your pants down in the front enough for his brass hand to slip with no barrier into your folds. The cool touch you would have expected from it was long forgotten as the metal now met your body temperature. Still engulfed in the kiss that was beginning to rob your breath, the telltale clunk barely registered in your mind until the vibrations started. Sending a jolt through your body, you pulled your face away from his and let out a shrill gasp. Â
The timer on the rehydrator went off, and Ezra chuckled darkly, watching your brows draw together and your eyes flutter. Â
âThe rules stay the same, Cricket. Sweet or savoury, I will have my fill and you will have your petite mort. But one will meet the other at the same time.â, he said in a wickedly soft tenor. âNow, you can begin holding up your end, sweet girl.âÂ
Once again, Ezra ripped away any power you might have had or believed you had, edging you with each bite, withholding his metal handâs vibrations from the moment his mouth was empty to the moment your hand shakily pushed another bite past his lips. Overstimulation mixed with the pent-up fury of being denied an orgasm had you panting rapidly, tears threatening to spill over. High pitched whines and shuddering whimpers were all you could produce, and it was music to Ezraâs ears. Â
âYou⊠create the most⊠glorious cricket songâŠâ, he mused softly as he chewed the mouthful. âKeep chirping, sweet girlâŠâÂ
You were coming to a point where you werenât sure you would make it. Your brain felt like it was filled with the static from a communicatorâs blank channel and your hearing and sight felt fuzzy. The coil tightening in your cunt was hitting a painful level, causing you to drop the next pastry youâd picked up with your shaking hands.Â
As soon as it hit the floor, Ezra tskâd you, and pulled his hand right out of your pants. The pained sob that burst from you from the loss of contact was loud and harsh, and the tears finally spilled over, staining your cheeks. Â
âP-please⊠I⊠I canât!â, you cried out, jutting your hand out clumsily to grab his wrist as he pulled back. His dark eyes scanned your desperate ones, pausing momentarily, before his gaze shifted to one of pity and amusement.Â
âYou canât what?â, he mocked with a cruel grin. âCanât what, sweet Cricket?âÂ
A rasped and pained whine peeled out of your throat as your head fell to his shoulder, and his hand gripped your hair and pulled back, forcing you to look at him. You looked ruined. Your cheeks flushed and eyes wet and lidded, your lips parted, turned down and chin quivering. He shoved up back and up onto the counter.Â
âOh, come now, sweet Cricket. Donât look at me like I wonât give you your due.â, he whispered, ghosting his mouth over yours. His brass fingers traced lurid shapes along your inner thighs, causing your body to shiver and that coil painfully wind up in your core once more. Â
âI asked you for something sweeter, pet,â, Ezra mockingly cooed as he pulled back, your face involuntarily following his to try and capture his lips against yours. He shook his head, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. âSomething sweeter and you dropped it on the floor. Itâs precious currency, Cricket, and you mishandled it.âÂ
Your eyes followed his, stuck in the trance heâd put you under. He could have told you to do anything, given any order and you would have obeyed to your detriment. His brass hand moved to your throat, long, metal fingers grasping just tight enough to keep you precariously seated on the edge of the counter. His thicker middle forced you legs open wide, and his other hand took its place between your legs and without warning, he shoved two fingers into your core. Â
Your mouth and eyes widened as a wrecked gasp escaped you and your hands went to grab onto what ever meaty part of him you could grab for stability. Ezra hummed in response as the pads of his fingers felt the walls of your cannel twitch and flutter at his intrusion.Â
âGood Kevva, sweet girlâŠâ, he groaned, watching your face contort. âAs much as this contraption of a limb can bring me such sadistic joy at your expense, my own digits needed to feel the silken walls of your inner sanctum.âÂ
As he pumped his fingers in and out of you, he dropped his forehead against yours and hummed again, answering your repeated whining pants and moans. Â
âKeep chirping, Cricket⊠sing me your evening song⊠thatâs itâŠ.â Â
As you felt your peak come careening in, he felt your walls convulse and slicken up. The soft tenor heâs just lulled you into a steady rhythm with fell away and the low chuckle followed by his fingers being removed made you scream out and dig your nails into the fattened flesh of his upper arm and shoulder.Â
âEZ-EZRA! PLEASE! FUCK-PLEASE!â, you sobbed out in a shriek. Â
His brass handâs hold tightened around your throat, and he shoved your shoulders flush with the wall behind counter roughly. Â
Your desperate eyes looked him over as best as you could, given the position he had you in. His bloated and full stomach moved with each laboured breath he took and the strain he put himself under to wreck you was fully apparent. You could feel the outline of his clothed hard cock seated against your thigh and the sweat beading on his forehead. He wiped his face and parted his lips to take in deeper breaths; his irises were indiscernible from his pupils as he looked down at you.Â
You had never known need like this, and you felt as though you were going to succumb due to your lack of orgasm as a final line in the life that Kevva had written for you.Â
âPâŠpleaseâŠâÂ
âIs it my cock you want to be impaled on, pet? You want to whine and mewl while I rut my quiver bone into your sopping celestial cavern?â, he coolly growled, but there was a slight waiver in his voice. You saw the same desperation in the dark abyss of his eyes.Â
You nodded dumbly and he scowled, baring his teeth, and tore his brass hand off you, trying to make quick work of getting his flight suit off his shoulders. The arms were tight around his fleshy arms, and you shakily sat up and tried to help. Once his arms were free, you tugged the material over his waist, taking note of the roll of flesh sitting just above his waistband, showing just how much he had been indulging. You gave it a squeeze, revelling in the sound he made, sucking his breath thru his teeth at your fingers. Â
âMarvel the fruits of your labour, Cricket⊠The destination you set me on course to has made me beyond redemption and unfit for galactic adventuringâŠâ, he grunted breathily, shoving his flight suit off his legs before kicking it off entirely. âYou have effectively rendered me useless beyond what effect I am able to wield on you.âÂ
He shoved his mouth against yours before you could respond or ask what he meant, sucking you into a bruising kiss. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your twitching cunt flush with his weeping, hard cock, knocking the plastic plate that held the desserts onto the floor at his feet. Fumbling slightly, he pulled back and gripped his member, before lining it up with your entrance and pushing it in all at once. The sting of his intrusion melded perfectly with the relief of finally connecting, and the sound you made caused Ezra to almost break. His eyes softened and his brows tented, body tense at the gentle yet firm, warm hold you had on him.  Â
âIâm af-afraid Iâve pushed too far to allow for⊠for niceties and gentle welcomes, sweet CricketâŠâ, he panted against your face, teeth clenched as he tried to focus and draw this out as long as possible. Â
âPlease move...â, you begged in a strained whine. Â
âIf I move to fast, sweet Cricket, I will... end this fortuitous connection with an... an early release, and that would render me- fuck!... render me less than a gentleman...âÂ
âYouâre no gentleman... now shut up an-and fuck me!âÂ
It seemed that your tight walls and frantic begging were too much for Ezra, and he pulled out with a grunt, followed by a whine as he came onto the plate on the floor. The vulgar sounds of his panting breaths mixed with the sploot of his spend had you seeing red.Â
âYou asshole!â, you screeched, shoving him off you. Â
He panted and held his hands up in surrender as you charged at him.Â
âCricket... forgive me! Youâre too sweet... your sacred cavern was too - âÂ
The slap you landed across his face stopped his fancy wordplay. âYou fucking bastard!âÂ
Ezraâs eyes flashed in anger, and he stood to his full height, towering over you. Â
âThat was uncalled for, Cricket.â, he snarled. âI will take the wrath of meeting an end without you by my side, but I will not allow you to besmirch my good mother with a question of my paternal lineage.âÂ
You stared at him, eyes wide with anger at his audacity, and before you could say another word, he tackled you to the floor. You tried to fight him off but the moment you heard the clunk of his brass arm and felt two metal fingers punch up into your slick heat, you ceased your struggle. Â
âSee, sweet Cricket? I may be a wayward traveler, but even I know the dangers of leaving a woman on the precipice of completion... âÂ
âDonât stop... please... donât stop...â Â
The vibrations of his arm and the smooth curves of the worn metal fingers found a rhythm that had you seeing stars. Â
âI plan to keep demanding your company each time I move through this sector, and-âÂ
âOh Kevva... Ez-Ezra!âÂ
He leaned forward and ghosted his mouth over yours, speaking in a low, husky growl, â... if I were to fail you now, what kind of welcome would I receive the next time I darken your doorway?âÂ
Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull and your body arched off the floor. Pent up energy burst from your burning cunt, sending wave after wave of precious release through your body. The scream that peeled out of you was dampened by Ezra kissing you forcefully.Â
His movement slowed and he slowly pulled his brass hand from your core. You were greeted with his grin as he looked over his brass hand.Â
âYouâve polished only two fingers for me... there are three more.â, he cooed, placing a delicate kiss on the end of your nose. âNext time.âÂ
âN-next time?âÂ
He nodded and stood up with a grunt. You sat up carefully, and it seemed you both took note of the plate on the floor, covered in his cum. The chastisement was on your tongue, but never became words out loud as you were struck speechless as you watched him pick up the plate and fling it out the window. Â
He turned back to you, standing naked in the kitchen, fat and sweaty, with a grin on his face. Â
âThere is always a next time, Cricket.âÂ
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You captured Ellie perfectly. She is absolutely the type of kid to procrastinate on her homework đ and the conversation between Joel and Tommy made me emotional!!!! Ugh. Iâm not handling this well. Such a sweet fic đ©·
*actually not ovulating. Iâm on my period and dying. But you get the picture
flutter
Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader
snapshots masterlist
summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks inâheâs going to be a father again.
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of readerâs age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant womanâs changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, heâs sort of a dick at first? but only because heâs working through some feelings so letâs forgive him, okay?
word count: 3.5k
a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.
âShit.â
You almost canât believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. âJesus Christ,â you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnightâbecause it hadnât been this prominent the day before, had it?
Over the last few months, thereâd been changes.
Some subtle and some not so subtle.
âEllie! Stop fucking staring at them,â youâd scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. âI mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.â
She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.
âHey, in my defense, theyâre just fucking there, man. If anything, theyâre fucking staring at me, okay?â
During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When youâd stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.
âBet Joelâs liking these changes,â Ellie had smirked. âIt sure as hell explains why the headboardâs been banging against the wall more than usual lately.â
You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.
One part of your body, however, hadnât changed.
Not until now.
âHon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,â Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. âEvery woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didnât start showing until I was around six months, remember?â
âI guess youâre right.â Youâd been around four months, then. âDoesnât help that I havenât felt the baby move.â
âYou will,â Maria had promised. âJust be patientâ
Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.
Itâs always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, itâs firmed into a perfect, round bump.
âMaybe soon Iâll feel you move,â you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.
Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joelâs still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route todayânormally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.
After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.
He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.
Youâre starting to get used to this. Domesticity.
Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. âIâm putting you on leave,â sheâd told you. âEffective immediately. I donât want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?â
âThatâs not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol untilââ
One stern glare from her had shut you right up.
âFine.â
Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when youâd be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.
You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.
With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.
As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.
âMorning!â Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. âWhatâs for breaâwhoa! Holy shit!â Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. âDude.â
âEllie,â you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. âDonât.â
âYouâre bigger!â
With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. âThanks a lot, you little jerk.â You feign offense. âYouâre making your own eggs from now on.â
âFuck, Iâm sorry.â Ellieâs cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, âI swear, I donât mean it like that at all. Itâs just, your stomach, it didnâtâyou didnât look like this last night, you know?â
Sheâs fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.
âYou look different. I mean, you look greatââ
âEllie?â
âYeah?â
âJust shut up and eat.â
âDeal.â
She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner.Â
âYou get your fractions homework done?â
âYeah.â Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. âTook me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.â
Amused, you offer, âWant me to check your work?â
âSure.â
As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.
âSo, uh, how are you feeling?â she asks after a minute.
âIâm feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so canât complain.â Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. âYou did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.â
âMan, I really wish we knew whether itâs a boy or girl,â Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. âWhat do you want to have, anyway?â
âIt doesnât matter to me, Ellie,â you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, âItâs true. As long as the babyâs healthy, thatâs all I care about.â And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the townâs old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.
Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joelâs heavy boots as he descends the staircase.
She quirks an eyebrow. âUh, has Joel seen you yet?â
Grimacing, you shake your head. âNo.â
âWell, I donât wanna be here for all that awkward,â Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which youâd packed for her earlier that morning. Just as sheâs about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. âUnless you want me to be?â
âIâll be fine, Ellie,â you assure her. âGo on, get to school. Maybe youâll be on time to class for once.â
âIf you say so.â She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. âSee ya later, old man!â
Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. Thereâs no telling how heâs going to react.
Joelâs been fairly supportive since youâd found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times heâs denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time youâd try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasnât fine.
And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.
In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl heâd hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.
You bite back a small sigh.
By now, youâve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.
âWho the hell lit a fire under her ass this morninâ?â Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. âShe ainât ever this fuckinâ eager to go to school.â
âNot sure,â you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. âI have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.â
You hear a chair scrape against the tile.
âI keep tellinâ you I can make my own breakfast, darlinâ.â
âAnd I keep telling you I donât mind making it for you,â you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.
Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.
He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair.Â
The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.
Uncomfortable.
Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.
âYour belly,â Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. âSâbigger.â
âYeah. It is. Guess Iâm going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,â you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. Thereâs no way for you to decipher what heâs thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. âCan you please say something?âÂ
He lightly clears his throat. âIâll take you to Main Street on Saturday,â he tells you, picking up his mug. âIâve got the day off from patrol. Iâll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I donât need so we can make a trade for some clothes.â He pauses, then offers quietly, âIn the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.â
You flash him a grateful smile. âThank you, Joel.â
Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.
âMhm,â is all he says.
Your smile falters.
Itâs the middle of August.
The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.
âJesus, itâs a fuckinâ scorcher,â Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brotherâs stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. âHotter than the devilâs fuckinâ balls out here, ainât it?â
Heâs met with silence.
Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like heâs in a trance. âJoel?â
Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. âSorry, you say somethinâ to me just now?â He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. âWe headinâ out?â
âYouâve been actinâ real strange all afternoon,â Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. âEither the heat is startinâ to get to you, or youâve got somethinâ on your mind, big brother.â
Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.
âSâalright,â his younger brother says. âDonât worry âbout them. Canât hear us.â
Joelâs chest heaves with a heavy sigh. âShe popped.â
âHuh?â
âHer belly finally popped. Sheâs showinâ now.â
Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. âYâshouldnât be so surprised, Joel. Was âbout time,â he remarks with a shrug. âWhat is sheâlike six months along now?â
âSheâll be six months in a couple weeks.â Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. âLook, I ainât stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. Sheâs got my kid in there. Iâm gonna be a dad again.â
âYouâre scared.â Itâs not a question, itâs a statement.
âShitless,â Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten.Â
âWhat are you afraid of?â
Joel almost laughs.
He doesnât know where to start.
Heâs afraid of everything.
âAll of it, Tommy. Iâm afraid for her, havinâ to give birth with no medicine,â he tells him, his voice breaking. âIâm afraid I wonât remember what to do with a newborn or that I wonât know how to help her durinâ those first few monthsââ
âThis ainât your first rodeo,â Tommy reminds him. âYou did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.â
âThat was over three fuckinâ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarahââ He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughterâs little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. âWhen her mom had trouble breastfeedinâ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.â He glances down at his broken watch. âBesides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasnât half fuckinâ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryinâ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, Iâd hear her. What if I canât hear my own kid cryinâ?â
âJoelââ
âIâm in my fifties. What if I canât keep up because Iâm too fuckinâ old?â
Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.
âBrother, I need you to take a fuckinâ breath,â he says, chuckling softly. âYouâre puttinâ the weight of the world of your shoulders right nowâyou need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythinâ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerinâ just how many growinâ families we have and how many little ones weâve got runninâ around our town, Iâd say itâs workinâ out pretty fuckin well.â He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. âAnd as far as your ability to be a good dad, youâve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. Iâve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like sheâs already got those maternal instincts, yâknow?â
âYeah, she does,â Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.
âTrust me, between the two of you, itâll be alright.â
He peers at him. âYou really believe I still got it in me?â
âI do.â Tommy smiles. âYou never stopped knowinâ how to be a father, Joel. Youâre gonna be just fine.â
Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and itâs late when he gets home.Â
âWhat the hell are you still doinâ up?â Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.
âWhat does it fucking look like, man?â
âShouldnât have waited until the last minute, kiddoââ
Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.
âSave the lecture for another time, dude. Iâm busy.â
Joel rolls his eyes. âFinish up and get to bed. Sâlate.â
Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that youâre already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.
He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that dayâs sweat, dirt, and grime. After heâs dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.
He lays on his side and heâs just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.
He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.
Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.
Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.
He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping arenât your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isnât your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.
The man you both needed.
Joelâs train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestledâdid the baby just move?
He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesnât, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.
âJoel?â you mumble his name, sleepily. âWhat timeâ?â
âShh,â Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. âSâokay, baby. Go back to sleep.â
He doesnât have to tell you twice.
Within seconds, youâre asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.
Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.
He waits.
And waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Until the minutes turn into hours.
Until dawnâs light filters in through the lace curtains.Â
Until he finally feels that little flutter again.
He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.
Heâd just felt the babyâs movement.
Thereâs a sudden shift.
Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment youâd mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightlyâthe breath he had been holding since heâd picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.
His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, theyâre all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesnât have to be as afraid as he is.
Joelâs eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.
With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep heâs had in the last few months.
Maybe his brotherâs right.
Maybe he will be just fine.
divider credit to @saradika đ€
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Yes!!! This is it exactly!!! đâ€ïžâ€ïž
Play Stupid Games
Summary - Who woulda thought you could make Joel come by playing with his nipples? NOT ME!! (3.6k words)
Tags - implied age gap as Joel calls reader kiddo, Joel Miller Nipple Worship, almost sub!joel, for like 8 seconds max, sub to softdom!joel, unprotected Piv, nipple orgasm, premature ejaculation, come eating, thigh riding, fingering, Joel talks you through it.
A/N - this ended up being something between a drabble and a fic. I donât know what this is. God spoke to me and I listened.
Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal for cleaning this mess up, thank you @beefrobeefcal @tightjeansjavi and @joelsgreys for the encouragement I needed to finish this!
Joelâs sheets are scratchy yet soft, his walls are illuminated by the flickering light of his burning candles. Joelâs naked under his blankets, your naked body tangled up with his. Your head rests on his chest and you draw lazy patterns with your fingers on his soft, pillowy tummy as Joel reads Stephen Kingâs The Shining to you, turning the pages when he asks you to. This is your evening routine with him, and youâll never tire of it. Sex first, then a shared shower, where Joel washes your hair and you wash his. He dries you off, then you go back to bed to snuggle and read a book together. You giggle at the way he always wears his glasses too far down his nose, and he lightly drags his nails along your scalp. His clean and masculine scent takes over your senses and that low, gravelly tone of his voice as he reads aloud to you usually puts you to sleep in no more than twenty minutes.Â
âTurn the page for me, hon,â Joel asks.
Youâre not so tired tonight. Youâre watching Joelâs chest rise and fall, lost in your own world and not really paying attention to his reading. Instead, youâre watching his skin erupt in goosebumps as you trace his chest, toying with his sparse chest hair, lightly teasing his nipples, theyâre a dark sort of mauve-brown color. Joelâs breath hitches as they pebble beneath your touch.Â
He bounces his book lightly on the crown of your head. âYou with me?â
âMhm,â you hum, âOf course.â
âMm,â Joel mumbles, not convinced. And heâs right to not believe you. Youâre grinding against his thigh subtly, but not subtle enough for Joel to not notice. He smirks as you reach between his thighs, first cupping his balls and then playing with his cock, feeling him begin to thicken in your palm. âOhh,â Joel grins, âThatâs why youâre not listening.â
âIâm listening,â you reply, stroking his cock. Itâs always such a satisfying feeling, running your thumb along the thickness of his head, feeling him twitch and grow harder.Â
âAre ya? Whatâs happening right now?â
âWendyâŠâ
âWrong,â he interrupts, âTry again.â
âJackââ
âDanny,â Joel corrects, âWhatâs Danny doinâ?â You donât know the answer to that question, of course you donât. Because youâre too distracted by whatâs happening in your hand. âExactly,â Joel says. He sets his book down on his stomach, the pages split to mark his place. He reaches under the covers and wraps his hand around your wrist, halting your movements. âYou wore me out tonight, kiddo. I donât have it in me to go again.â
Itâs true, you did wear Joel out. It had been a few days since youâd last had him, and you were missing him dearly. Joel was gone all day, and youâd watched all three Indiana Jones movies, which didnât help your case in the least. Fuck it, you might even be ovulating. Youâre not exactly keeping track. Whoops.
You practically tackled him when he walked through the door. Dinner was made and the table set, but it remained untouched as you let Joel know just how much you missed him. Scrambling to unbuckle his belt, you walked him backwards until the backs of his legs hit the couch and he sat down. You wasted no time shimmying off your pants and pulling his own halfway down his thighs. He guided you to straddle his lap, his already rock-hard cock held loosely between his fingers.
Usually heâll tease you a bit, make you beg and ache and cry for it as he drags his tip through your folds, toy with your clit for a moment before notching himself at your entrance. Today, upon realizing the severity of your need for him, he pulled your hips down on his cock, burying himself in you entirely. He let you adjust to him, feel the stretch and the ache of him inside you. No fingers to warm you up, no tongue, he simply gave all of himself to you.Â
Once adjusted, he began to roll his hips, grunting in your ear as you moaned sweetly in his own. That patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit, how his thick cock hit all of your sweetest spots with each of his deep, sloppy, and quick thrusts. He was relentless, just how you needed him. As he fucked you, he slid his hands up the softness of your tummy and your rib cage, then cupped your breasts, flicking and twisting your nipples with his fingertips.Â
Per your wishes, Joel had brought you to the edge and pushed you over it multiple times by the time it was all said and done. You came on his cock once and begged him to let you come once more, and then one more time after that before he finally let himself go. By the time youâd finished, the sun had gone down and dinner had gottencold. It couldâve been hours, and Joel was spent. He could hardly keep his eyes open in the shower, swaying back and forth as he flirted with the idea of falling asleep under the warm water running down his shoulders.Â
-
âIâll do all the work, Joel,â you offer as you squeeze his cock. âI just need you for a second.âÂ
âCharming. You lied to me twice just now,â Joel smirks, turning his head to look down at where your head rests on his shoulder. âDidnât you?â
âNo, of course not.â
âOh, sure. You just need me for a second, huh? Can I time it?â You bite your cheek to hide your sheepish smile. You see his point, but you werenât lying, just slightly misrepresenting the truth. âYeah, and you know what else is a load of bullshit? Iâll do all the work, Joel,â he mocks, putting on his best girl voice and batting his eyelashes.Â
Youâre definitely not lying about that, though. âItâs true,â you argue, âIâllââ
âYeah, right. You ainât done a lick of hard work in your life. You got me in the palm of your hand and you donât gotta lift a damn finger to get what you want. Do you?â
Youâre not answering that. Instead, holding up your pinkie finger, you swear to Joel, âI promise, Iâll do it all.â
Joel eyes you suspiciously before holding up his pinkie finger as well. You link fingers, kiss your thumb as he kisses his own, then smush them together. âSâa deal now, my darlinâ.â
Joel first takes off his glasses, then dog-ears the page of his book to mark his place in the story before he sets both down on his nightstand. He raises his hands in the air as if heâs surrendering to you. You pull down the blankets and straddle him, your already wet pussy grinding against his now fully-hardened cock. You smile mischievously, biting your bottom lip as you pin his wrists to the bed on either side of his head. âGoddamn,â he drawls, âAm I nothinâ but a piece of meat to ya?â
âMhm,â you reply, kissing his cheek and then his lips.
Joel smiles against your lips, âAlright, sweet girl. Show me what you got,â he mumbles. You pull back and Joel waits patiently, his wrists still pinned under your palm as you decide what youâre gonna do to him. You start first by grinding yourself against his member, garnering an amused smile from him as his tip catches against your clit and you moan. âVery nice,â he praises, âGimme some more.â
Still grinding on his cock, you kiss his lips again, then down his jaw, down his neck, biting and sucking as you do so. âNo marks,â he warns, squeezing your ass.Â
âI know, Joel,â you whisper, continuing your trail of kisses down his chest, down his tummy and back up again. You line yourself up with his cock and sink down on him, experimentally licking a nipple at the same time. Joel shivers. You do it again, this time gently teasing his other nipple with your fingers.Â
âWhat are you doinâ, kiddo,â Joel murmurs quietly.Â
âNothing, Joel.â
âI think youâre lyinâ again. Think youâre causinâ trouble.â
âIâm taking care of you.â
âI donât, fuck, I donât knowââ you hum against him, sending vibrations through his skin. Youâre grinding on him as you do so, rubbing your clit against that patch of hair at the base of his cock, taking in all of him - the feeling of him inside you, how youâre pulsing around him. His smell, his warm and thick body underneath yours. Heâs breathing heavily, little whimpers escaping his mouth as he squeezes your ass and your sides, his fingertips digging into your skin so hard it hurts. He seems almost desperate.Â
âDonât know what, Joel?â
âI donât - fuck, ohh god, please, pleaseââ Holy fuck, heâs begging, and you didnât even know he could do that. Youâre not sure what heâs begging for - more, less, go, stop. âWhyâre you teasinâ me like this, sweetheart, whyâreââ
âIâm not doing anything, Joel,â you smile against his skin. Youâre trying it all out now, with one of his nipples youâre using your fingers to twist and tease him, feeling him jolt and tremble with your touch. With your mouth, youâre using your tongue - tracing the outline of his areola, swirling your tongue in a spiral to reach his sensitive bud. And then you switch, using your tongue on the nipple previously occupied by your teasing fingertips.Â
âBullshit. Youâreâfuuuuuck,â Joel lets out a long groan, his cock twitching inside of you as he squirms underneath you. âI can feel you smirkinâ.Youâre testinâ my patience. You need, I need, Christâyouâre startinâ something youâre not gonna like finishing.â
Heâs warning you that this might be a mistake, but this only fuels your fire. Itâs always you whoâs squirming and crying and whimpering, begging for god knows what as Joel grins above you, torturing your clit and promising you that itâll all be okay, that youâre not gonna break.Â
Youâve got him reduced to a mess, heâs moaning and whimpering, breathing heavily with his eyes squeezed shut, his brows knit together. You can feel in his touch that heâs conflicted, squeezing you tighter yet itching to push you away. His skin is tingling, his balls tightening as you clench around him, still grinding yourself ever so slightly on his pelvis. Youâre making a sloppy mess of his chest with your mouth, all spit covered as you circle his nipples with the tip of your tongue, rolling the bud gently and carefully between your teeth. Itâs torturously pleasurable when you begin to suck and nip at his nipples and Joel thinks heâs gonnaâ
âFuck, Christ, oh my god, oh my god, mmm-ohhhh.â
Heâs spilling into you, surprising both you and himself. He comes loudly and desperately, all needy whimpers and cries as he pulses inside you, painting your insides with his warm, sticky spend. Grabbing you and holding you tight, his grip easing as his breaths begin to even and he eventually goes still. You rest on his chest, feeling him leak out of you. When you finally sit up to admire your work, Joelâs got his eyes closed, his cheeks are rosy. A few tears running down his face and when you wipe them away, he opens his eyes.Â
âYou look proud of yourself,â he tells you. His tone is pointed yet quiet, like heâs bashful. âLearned a new trick, huh.âÂ
âI did,â you smile. Heâs gone soft inside of you and you get up off of him, but Joel pulls you back down. âNuh-uh. Where do you think youâre going?â
âJust to theââ
âSit back down. I ainât finished with you,â Here it comes. You anticipated Joel getting revenge in some way or another, but youâre not sure how he plans to. Maybe heâll lay you on your back, lick you until you cry the way you did to him. He might bring you to the edge over and over and over again, yet never push you past it. Or heâll make you come until your legs twitch and shake uncontrollably, and youâre a sweaty, sobbing mess of overstimulation. Heâs done it all before and you know heâs not opposed to doing it again. âYouâre gonna hold up your end of the bargain. Do some hard work for once in your life.â
You begin to protest, âI already did.âÂ
âThat donât count. You cheated and found a loophole. You wanted me, so youâre gonna have me,â Youâre not sure what he means or what he wants from you. You thought you did already have him. âGet on your knees, kiddo,â Joel says, slapping his bare thigh. When you pause, Joel nudges you and guides you to straddle his thigh. âLike this,â he says.Â
âWhat am I supposed to do?â
âIâm sure youâll figure that out,â Joel drawls, âI gave you a hint already.â
Heâs placed you on his thigh. He says you wanted him, so youâre gonna have him. But youâve made him come already, so that meansâ
âI canât do that.â
âYou started this, youâre cominâ one way or another,â he says. âYouâre not getting up until you do it. Youâd best get to it.â
His tone is serious, but youâre sure this has to be some sort of game. He watches you, how you furrow your brows in confusion. Joel sits up and adjusts a few pillows behind himself, spreads his legs further apart and holds your ass cheeks in his big, strong hands. âRock your hips fâme.â
Slowly, you rock your hips on his thigh. You canât feel much except for the mess youâre making on his leg, your arousal and his spend. Itâs all awkward - the clunky and graceless rolling of your hips, the quietness in the room as Joel watches you intently. You shift your thighs, holding on to one of Joelâs hips and one of his shoulders as you rock your hips, trying to feel anything at all. You do - just for a second, maybe. âKeep goinâ,â he tells you while drawing lazy patterns on your thigh, but youâre not sure that you can keep going. The expectant look on Joelâs face has you feeling uncomfortable. Not the bad kind of we need to stop this now uncomfortable, but just sort of puzzled. Joel could have tortured you with his teasing and he probably would have gotten a better result. He seems to know this, so he begins to guide your hips again. Youâre not sure how he does it, but he finds the perfect angle and he knows this when you moan for him, squeezing his shoulders tight. âLike that,â he instructs.Â
You do your best to mimic the action, but itâs just not happening. He mustâve been flexing his thigh, or the way he moved your hips is a way that you canât replicate without help for some reason. Frustrated, you slump down onto his chest. âI canât do it.â
âYouâre gonna have to,â Joel coos.Â
You shake your head, âNo, no. I wantâjust fuck me. I want you inside me, I canât come without you inside me.â
âYeah, I know you want me inside ya. Canât do nothinâ about that on account of what you did to me, now can I?â
You whine and groan in irritation. âThen I need you to do the wââ you press your lips in a thin line. Oops.Â
âWork,â Joel adds for you, finishing your sentence. âSâthat what Iâm hearinâ? You need me to do the work?â You nod your head, itâs worth a shot. Maybe. âNot gonna happen, hon. We shook on it.â You pout, whining and groaning again. Joel strokes the skin of your back, âOh, I know, I know,â he coos, feigning sympathy. âLet this be a lesson to ya then, kiddo. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.â
âJoel,â you protest.
âJoel,â he mocks. âCome on, get up. Get to work.â Joel pushes you back, forcing you to sit back up on his thigh. Generously, he helps you find that movement once more. Where your hips tilt at just the right angle and you can feel the pressure of his thick thigh against your clit. âRight there,â you gasp, holding his hand on your hip. âNuh-uh,â Joel shakes his head and pulls his arms back, crossing them on his tummy.Â
Itâs okay. Youâre gonna figure this out. You brace yourself on Joelâs shoulders as you search for that sweet spot on your own. Within a couple of minutes, you think you find it. Youâre alternating between feeling good, better, worse, then to worse, good, and better. At moments itâs great, and then it justâŠdisappears. And at this point, youâre exhausted. Itâs been god knows how long since you even found yourself on Joelâs lap in the first place. You groan, resigning yourself to defeat. Youâre about to get off of Joelâs thigh when he grabs your bicep. âAw, come on kiddo. You givinâ up that easy?â
âYeah,â you tell him, your tone saying all that youâre feeling. Dejection, frustration, disappointment.Â
Joel shakes his head, âMânot lettinâ ya.â
âJoelââ
âDeep breath in and out for me,â he instructs, and you roll your eyes. He repeats himself, âDeep breath. In. And. Out. Do it now.â And so, not wanting to make this any worse for yourself and just wanting to get it over and done with, you close your eyes. You breathe in deeply, letting your tummy expand with his instruction, then exhale your breath fully. âYou need to settle down,â he says as you continue your breaths. âSâit. Nice anâ slow.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â you mumble, âItâs just hard.â
âKnow itâs hard. Whatâd we talk about though, hm? Hard work, right?â you nod your head, âYeah,â Joel says, âI know. Youâre gonna work for it, sweet girl. Iâve been spoilinâ ya.â A few more deep breaths, and Joel speaks again, âMânot gonna do it for you, but Iâll walk you through it if youâd like.â
âYes,â you beg, your eyes flying open. âPlease. Help me.â
âLeast youâve still got your manners,â Joel smiles. He reaches for your knees then, spreading them wide. âTilt your hips forward, sweetheart, and rock âem on me,â he tells you. âWhat feels good? Back and forth, left and right?â
âBack and forth.âÂ
âThen do it.â
 And so you do it, just like youâve been doing this whole goddamn time. Joel watches in your face that youâre not quite there yet, but he encourages you anyway. âThatâs it, youâre gettinâ it. Tilt down a bit.â
Youâre rocking your hips on his thigh, grinding against him, and with his advice it finally, finally feels good. âFuck,â you moan.Â
âAgain,â he instructs, âKeep goinâ.â
You grind on him, this time with more intent. Faster and harder, having found that sweet feeling thatâs beginning to build in the pit of your stomach, you savor it.
âGood girl,â Joel praises. And then as if to reward you for your hard work, Joel reaches between your thighs and finds your clit with his middle and ring fingers, giving you something extra to enjoy. Heâs circling your clit as you move your hips, and when that feeling in your stomach begins to build, you ride him more intensely, chasing after that high you so desperately need, that youâve worked so hard for.Â
âNeed itâneed you, Joel, donât stop, donâtââ
âIâm not goinâ anywhere. Take your time, kiddo, Iâm right here.âÂ
âYouâre here,â you nod, your brows furrowed together and youâre almost unable to speak, too focused on the prospect of release.Â
Your velvety folds soaked in Joelâs come and your own arousal. âIâmâ fuck, Joel, Iâm close,â you moan.
âI know you are, keep goinâ,â Joel coos, âYouâre right there, just let it happen. Gimme a good one, sweetheart,â You feel your orgasm building to a new edge when you hear him say, âCome for me.â
All it takes is that one command, laced with Joelâs encouragement, and youâre sent tumbling over the edge. Your long-awaited orgasm begins at your core and travels through you, washing over you with pulsing waves of pleasure. âJoel,â you moan breathless and needy, writhing on top of him. You feel it everywhere, in your spine and down your thighs. Your clit twitching, your walls pulsing around nothing as you ride him.
âThatâs it, kiddo, there it is. Good girl,â Joel coos. âDid so good.âÂ
With a soft moan, you fall limp next to Joel, steadying your breath. Â
A moment passes. âFinish the job,â he whispers.
âWhat are you talking about?â
 âYou made your mess on me, so youâre gonna clean it up. Part of the deal, sweetheart,â Joel gestures to your combined arousal on his thigh, then swipes his middle two fingers through the mess and pushes it between your lips, âYou know what to do. Lick it up,â he instructs.Â
Itâs not lost on him, the hypocrisy of having you clean up a mess that he had you make. But like he asked, you do it. Youâll do it every time he asks. He holds your hair back as you lick the mess from his thigh, savoring that slightly salty, masculine flavor he knows you love. âSuch a good girl. You ready to go to sleep?â
âNo,â you yawn, and Joel puts on his glasses again, opens the book back up and reads you the story. Youâre sleeping on his chest in minutes.Â
If you enjoyed, please please please reblog, leave me a comment, or send me an ask. Your words go a long way and keep me motivated to write đ©·
Forgot to add cat pics!!! I add these at the end of my fics now
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Get up cocksuckers salute the flag get up everybody get up itâs Memorial Day weekend
Devotion đ€
II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 8)
CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader
Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?
Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.
*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*
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II. Predator or Prey?
CH 8 (6.6k) | The Night You Left |
Joel barely sleeps, tossing and turning in his bed with his clothes on, knuckles bloody and burning, throat raw from screaming. He wakes up to hushed whispers outside his door and he throws it open, inexplicably hoping to see you out there. Instead he sees a sea of terrified faces, Sasha tucking Beth behind her, Tess peering out from the bathroom with Rosie holding a cold cloth over her swollen face. Kerri is further down the hall, sweeping up chunks of drywall and dust on the floor from the holes heâd punched into the wall hours earlier.Â
He looks back towards Tess. Fuck. She looks awful, already two swollen black eyes and a split lip. What kind of a monster does that to someone?Â
âTess, Iââ
âIâll be alright Joel,â she reassures. âWhy donât you head over to the baths and get cleaned up?â
She knows he canât be seen in the state heâs in. What would people think? Theyâd think heâd fuckinâ lost it is what theyâd think. And theyâd be right.
Joel heads to the old plaza, a ten minute walk down the street and around the corner, to the old salon now serving as the town bath house. This early in the morning he knows no one is going to be here so he lets himself in through the back door. He checks the tank of the townâs only working hot water heater and begins to fill one of the stock tank tubs, shucking his clothes off and climbing in. The water stings his raw knuckles as he scrubs at his body, washing away bits of dusty drywall and blood â his or Tessâ, he canât tell.
Fuck, he fucked up. He shouldnât have reacted like that. He shouldnât have done that to Tess. This is what you fucking do to him, this is the effect you have on him. You bring out the worst in him. All you ever did was distract him, tempt him, tease him, and reject him. He saved your life, fed you, clothed you, protected you, and put a roof over your head. And how did you repay him?
Resentment. Neglect. Defiance. Abandonment.
What did he even see in you? He thought you were brave, but you were so soft on the inside. He thought you were smart, but he watched you act like such a fucking fool. He thought you were beautiful, but you wouldnât even let him say it. He thought you were wild, but he tamed you so easily. He was wrong about you. He tells himself that heâs glad youâre gone and that heâs better off without you around anyway.
â
The first Thursday without you, Joel takes Beth to the meeting, despite complaining that heâd rather go alone. Beth had already gotten to work making clothes and this would be a good opportunity for her to give some out to the families that lived further out of town, at least thatâs what Tess had said. Heâd never admit it, but he held his breath when a group of people led by the tall and imposing Hank walked in the room, someone else trailing just behind. Several people shifted and Joel saw it was just Hankâs little girl, blushing bright red when she caught him looking at her.Â
Shit. Heâs not sure why he let himself think it might be you. Hank hadnât brought you to the church meeting on Sunday so why did he let that tightness grow in his stomach thinking heâd bring you to the Thursday meetings the way he used to bring Beth? Whatever. He doesnât even want to see you. He continues to be in a foul mood all week and despite pleading with Tess for forgiveness â which she gives him â all the women in the house seem to avoid him.
The second Thursday he notices Hankâs young daughter, whoâd introduced herself several times as Amber, following his every move, watching him, sitting next to him, hanging on his every word with rapt attention. The little girl must have a crush. How inconvenient. But wait, he might be able to use this to his advantage. Heâd noticed you ducking behind Hankâs oversized frame at church the past Sunday, avoiding him like the plague, and decided he was going to give you a taste of your own medicine.Â
Fuck you, you little ingrate, heâs gonna ignore the shit out of you right back.
He purposely avoided looking in your direction during his speech and sat with his back to you during dinner. He made sure to act like the perfect leader, loving and gentle, graciously accepting peopleâs well wishes for Tessâ illness â the cover-up for why sheâd been in the house for over a week while her face healed up. Within earshot of you he gives attention to every other female Valley member, even going so far as to bring people into his embrace, hugging them tight.Â
Heâs like an oily politician â kissing babies and shaking hands â but he hopes you see it all. He hopes you feel sick over it, feel jealous, feel regret. He hopes you feel the loneliness rotting in your gut like he does. But how will he know? How will he know if he canât see you, canât talk to you? He needs access to you, someone for you to confide in, someone on the inside. Little Amber will do nicely.Â
He strikes up a conversation with her, bumping up the charm to an eleven. He opens with some mildly flirtatious banter, asks some questions about her â women love that shit â before getting to the point.
âHear you got a new roommate over there,â he postures casually.
âYeah, sheâs great,â Amber beams.
âShe is?â
âOhâ ummm,â her brow furrows. âIsnât she?â
âI donât know,â he chuckles, âYou tell me.â
âSheâs alright, yeah⊠I mean, sheâ sheâs fine.â
âWell you should let me know if she does anything to bother you.â His voice is smooth and buttery.
âI should?â
âWell yeah,â Joel touches his hand briefly to her chin, âI gotta make sure youâre happy, donât I?âÂ
âOh,â she giggles, face flushing immediately.
âSo make sure you tell me whatâs goinâ on, okay?â
âYeah I will,â she tries to suppress her smile. âIâ I definitely will.â
âAnything at all, even if you think it might not be important.â He makes sure sheâs looking at him and drops his voice an octave. âAnything at all, okay, sweetheart?â He winks to seal the deal.
It was almost too easy, turning little Amber into his own private mole. Every Thursday he gave her a couple minutes of attention and she folded, playing right into his hand and spilling everything you two had talked about over the past week. She told him where you went, what you did, who you talked to, and even what anyone else in the house said about you. Apparently Hankâs wife was missing Beth and Joel briefly thinks of telling Tess to make a switch back, but then gets angry at you again and changes his mind.
You donât deserve his forgiveness, youâre not missing him enough, not even close to being as miserable as you could be. Amber had told him that youâd cried yourself to sleep almost every night the first week but then the other day after the church meeting heâd watched you hunch down behind little Amber â barely five feet tall â trying to hide from him. Your stubborn pride is gonna make it even more satisfying when you come crawling back to him, begging him to let you come back home.
Amber tells him when youâve stopped crying at night but says you still spend a lot of time on your own, wandering the edges of the property. She catches you up in the hayloft all the time, or napping with the baby goats. She says you donât spend any time with Danny or Diego, the ranch hands, so he resists his urges to take them by the collar and threaten to bury them alive if they so much as look at you.
â
Joel woke up in the mornings feeling empty, like his chest had been broken open and hollowed out, all of his internal organs scooped onto the ground. The only thing that remained inside him was a deep-seated ache. He tried to soothe it with conversation but Tess didnât want to hear it, kept telling him itâs better this way and to move on. He tried to temper his loneliness with touch, but when he reached for Sashaâs hand after dinner one night she ripped it out of his grip. One evening, in a particularly weak moment, he nuzzled into Kerriâs neck while she was washing dishes, her hands occupied and covered in suds.Â
âOh,â she squeaked, startled by his touch.
âHey,â he said, muffled against her skin, twitching under the brush of his beard.
âIâm not reallyââ she started.
He didnât let her finish. He was out of the room before she could even finish her sentence. How fucking pathetic was he? He didnât even want her â not really â and she couldnât even stand to be touched by him. This is what youâve done to him, this is what youâve made him. Heâs been ruined by you.
When it's been just over a month since you left, things at the house finally get back to a sense of normalcy again. For a while, Tess was the only one speaking to him, and besides the Thursday meetings Beth was assigned to accompany him to, she avoided him like the plague. Kerri wouldnât meet his eyes, Rosie shuffled away from him whenever he entered a room, and Sasha gave him dirty looks every time she passed him in the halls. But with time, things were improving. There was a low hum of conversations around the dinner table now â none of them involving him â but at least everyone else was happy.
The following Sunday Amber traps him in a corner and starts saying shit about coming to live with him. He has no idea where she got this idea in her head but she keeps trying to touch the buttons on his shirt and heâs doing everything in his power not to swat her little fucking hands away. He sees Tess giving him a look and he knows. He knows he needs to get away from her, that people can see him, that people will talk. What if you see him? Youâre never gonna come back home if you think heâs messing around with this annoying child. He has to stop using her for information, he has to cut her off.
The following Thursday marks the end of February and Amberâs reports have gotten brief and repetitive. Walks alone along the pastures, always has her nose in a book at bedtime, late to every meal (much to her motherâs chagrin). She tells him that you only leave the farm on Sundays for church and on Wednesdays for your bath, having to settle for a weekly wash at the Covered Bridge Inn another mile down the road with some of the other farming families. He bets youâre missing your three soaks a week since you left town.
Joel decides to cut Amber off then and there, sheâs not giving him anything he doesnât already know and he needs more, he wants more. He needs to fill that emptiness inside him and youâre the only thing that can make him feel whole again. Heâs barely looked at you in weeks, always avoiding watching you directly, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of thinking he gives a fuck. He doesnât, not really. He just wants to soothe the hole you left. He convinces himself he just needs a taste, just needs a peek. He just needs to see if youâre missing him, to make sure youâre suffering the way he is, the way you should be. He wants to see it for himself. Then he can get over you â move on â like Tess says he should.
He waits until the following Wednesday and makes a trip out to the Mansfieldâs farm when he knows youâll be gone for your bath. Only Hank remains on the farm to greet him but is honored and excited by Joelâs presence. Joel makes up something about wanting to visit Hank because of how much he respects all of his hard work, but asks Hank to not spread the word lest the other farmers be jealous. Hank nods in agreement as he shows Joel around the property and then welcomes him into his humble home.
When Joel excuses himself to use the bathroom he takes a walk around the upstairs, checking each bedroom to find yours, recognizing it when he sees one of your old shirts on the bed. He lifts your pillow to his face, huffing in your familiar scent. Under your pillow is a book, paperback cover worn and tattered, Of Mice and Men by John Steinback. Joel stuffs it in his waistband and pulls his shirt back down, heading back downstairs to tell Hank he should get going.
Thereâs no mention of his visit by his little spy the next night so, he assumes Hank kept it a secret and you were none the wiser. He wants to go to the farm again, he wants to have another piece of you. Just one more taste, just one more. He waits until late in the day on the following Wednesday and, avoiding traps he and his patrols helped set, he rides out and sneaks onto the property from the neighboring fields. Hank is working out in the far pasture and doesnât even notice Joelâs surreptitious arrival.
The house is unlocked and he goes straight to your room, this time laying down in your bed, letting himself soak in the scent of you wafting off the sheets. He thinks of you crawling in the bed every night at the end of a long day working your ass off on this farm, a big change from the cushy life you had back home. He knows you only get a bath once a week here, and he can smell your scent on the sheets strongly. He smells sweat, dirt, farm animals, and a trace of tangy milk. You must change the sheets when you get back from your bath. This must be the most pungent they smell all week.
He grabs his dick overtop his pants, he can feel it already hard and aching at the thought of you. He wishes he had more time to lie here, to really be able to enjoy himself, but he made up an excuse to Tess and sheâll be suspicious if heâs gone too long. He takes his hand away from the front of his pants and instead grabs your pillow, throwing it over his face to breathe it in a final time. He gets up, adjusting himself, and takes a step towards the door before he doubles back and snatches your pillowcase off the pillow, stuffing it down the front of his shirt.
â
Heâs panting slightly as he makes his way in the back door of his house, having had to jog from the stables, cutting through the town park so heâd be back before Tess started wondering where he was. Kerri gives him a sideways glance and an empty smile, quickly turning her head back to her meal preparation. Tess and Sasha come up from the basement holding jars of preserved vegetables.Â
âWhere you been?â Tess asks.
âI told you,â he tries to stifle his heavy breathing. âI had to help Peter out with his solar panel issue.â
âBut Peterâs wife Georgia just came by here not even ten minutes ago and asked how you were doinâ,â she says, looking confused.
âYeah well it wasnât at his house,â Joel thinks quickly. âHeâs been tryinâ to get it fixed up for little old Miss Betty, outâ umm⊠over there by the woods.â He picked the most remote, home-bound person he could think of, hoping it would cover his ass.
âOh, she needs power? For what?â she asks, setting down the jars on the counter with Sasha, not giving Joel her full attention anymore. He uses the opportunity to move out of the kitchen towards his office.
âI dunno, just helpinâ out Peter,â he says and then ducks out of the room before she can question him further.Â
Once he closes his office door he pulls out your pillowcase from under his shirt and balls it up to his face, sniffing it more. He sticks it in the bottom desk drawer under the maps, where he keeps your lost pair of underwear, your rejected christmas gift, and the book he took from under your pillow on his previous visit. Something scratches at him from deep inside, something that might resemble guilt. He shakes it off. He has nothing to feel guilty for. If you want underwear, books, or your pillowcase so bad you can come back home and have them.Â
â
He canât even wait until next Wednesday to go over to the farm. Sunday morning rolls around â heâs spent all weekend planning this moment â and he gives a well-rehearsed speech to Tess about being sick. He doubles over in his bed and clutches his middle, groaning until her face softens and she puts the back of her hand to his forehead the way his mom used to. She brings him some water and rice and tells him to get some rest before heading to the services with everyone else in the house.
Once heâs left alone he jumps out of bed, throwing the covers off like a child on Christmas morning. He knew that if he went to church heâd be able to see you, maybe fill a little bit of his craving. But since he doesnât really look at you, how much of you can he actually see? Knowing that Hank would bring your entire household to the service meant the farmhouse would be empty. He can sneak over there while everyone is preoccupied and have his fill of your scent, of the ghost of your presence. He needs this, he tells himself, he needs a little bit more before he stops, before he gets over you.
He doesnât want to take a horse this time, wants to leave no trace of where heâs going or risk anyone seeing him riding out. Most of the town is at the church service but he wants to be extra cautious. He heads out the back door and ducks into the trees beyond the yard, making the long way around the populated square to hit the fence-line. He finds a well-worn path through two fence sections and, avoiding the traps he knows are there, darts south towards the farm.Â
Joelâs knees are aching by the time he hits Hankâs property, heart pounding and feet throbbing, having set a brutal pace to make the trip in just about thirty minutes. His chest is heaving to catch his breath as he crosses over the creek and walks up the small hill to the old farmhouse standing like a silent monument above the pastures.
He takes his time on this visit, going through your side of the dresser, recognizing the clothes you had before, touching the fabric with his fingers that he would feel beneath his touch whenever he held you in the mornings. He looks in the closet â mostly Amberâs clothes â but sees a nice dress in there he assumes Hank intended for you to wear to church. Joelâs never seen you in a dress, maybe no one here has either, since youâve certainly never worn this one.Â
He takes off his clothes and climbs in your bed, lying face flat on your pillow, and smells you. Not your soap or shampoo, but you, the real you. The you he used to smell when you were at home, when you were in his arms, when you were his. Before you left him, before you broke him, before he was empty. He slowly humps against the bed â his cock rubbing the worn, softened sheets â and thinks of you.Â
He imagines you coming back and catching him, throwing your arms and legs around him, crying how much you miss him and kissing him until he agrees to take you home. His come spills on your sheets and he throws the blanket back over top, leaving the mess for you to find. Part of him hopes you know it was him. He puts half his clothes on and then begins to get sleepy, having stayed up half the night going over and over in his head his plans for today. He lies down on top of the bed just to rest his eyes for a moment.
He doesnât hear the horses pull up with the wagon outside, or the door opening and people entering the house downstairs. He doesnât hear anything until thereâs footsteps on the stairs coming towards where heâs still half naked and just awake. Shit. He jumps up and grabs the rest of his clothes off the floor, kicking his boots under your bed and jumping in the closet just as Amber bursts in the room, humming a hymn and babbling about how she wants to make soup to send to him. You hum in assent but otherwise say nothing.
He wishes he could see you, but heâs pushed himself into the closet and to the side as much as possible. He is half-covered by a mothball-smelling crocheted cardigan and a mildew-smelling old raincoat. He hears the soft sounds of fabric and the wooden creak of dresser drawers, then you both silently shuffle out of the room and down the stairs. He waits a long time until he's sure the coast is clear and manages to get himself dressed, pull on his shoes, and make it downstairs.Â
He hides in a closet for several hours, hearing Amber and her mother all around the first floor, cleaning and cooking and gossipping to each other. Where are you? Are you in the hayloft like Amber said you like to be? Are you feeding goats or milking cows? He wants to see you but he knows he has to go, knows heâs stayed too long. Everyone has been back at his house for hours and Tess will most definitely be wondering where the fuck he went to.Â
Itâs mid-afternoon by now and he knows he canât waste anymore time. He ducks out of the closet and runs for the closest patch of trees as quickly as he can. As soon as heâs in the cover of the woods he starts thinking of the shit show heâs gonna walk into. Tess is gonna give him the third degree. He left no note, no indication of where he would be. What excuse is he even gonna give? He played sick so convincingly and now what is he gonna do? What can he tell her that will be believable?Â
His mind is racing with a hundred different thoughts and heâs trying to ignore the sting of the cold air in his lungs and the burning of his thighs as he presses forward up another hill. Heâs sure thatâs why he misses the trap. Because he knows where they all are, he helped set almost every single one. He has a map in his office with all of them marked off, directs the patrols to check and maintain them. He knows better. But heâs distracted. Youâve distracted him. This is all your fault. Thatâs all he can think as he feels the trap clamping over his ankle and the biting pain shooting up his leg. This is all your fuckinâ fault.
Joel loses his balance quickly as the counterweight trips and yanks his leg out from under him. He sees the whole world flip and feels the fire of tearing flesh licking up his leg. He comes to rest with his shoulders on the ground, his head brushing against the fallen leaves, but the lower half of his body lifted up in the air, strung up in the tree by his ankle. Shit, this is a good trap, he was so proud when he thought of it and now he can confirm that itâs quite debilitating and extremely painful.Â
â
The sun has started setting when Joel hears a single step behind him and he whips his head around, facing a lone figure, light hair braided over her shoulder, pack on her back stuffed full. Sasha.
âHey honey⊠I didnât hear ya coming,â he groans, shifting uncomfortably.
âYeah, Joel,â she looks him over quickly, âThatâs kinda the point.â
She opens her mouth to ask a question â probably something akin to what the fuck are you doing out here â but then she looks southward, towards the still-visible fields of the dairy farm, and back at him. She closes her mouth, deciding not to ask something she already knows the answer to. Instead she looks him up and down, taking in the scene in the fading light.
âYou uhh⊠you want me to get you down from there?â
âWell whatâs the alternative, honey?â He motions around. âYou gonna leave me here?â
âI couldâŠâ her face remains impassive, considering her options, âBut Tess would probably miss you.â
Joel lets out a huff and gives her a partial smile, itâs as much as he can manage having been stuck like this for far too long. Sasha throws her pack down and fishes some bolt cutters out of the back, reaching them above Joelâs ankle and cutting a chain link rather easily. Joel's body unceremoniously slams down to the forest floor, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
âJesus Christ, Joel,â she mutters, kneeling down to check him over. âWhatâd you think was gonna happen when I cut it?â
âI dunno honey but Iâm not a fuckinâ gymnast. Iâve been hanginâ upside-down for hours, so Iâm kinda at the whim of gravity right now.
âWell twinkle toes, good thing youâre not training for the olympics, because your leg looks absolutely fucked. We need to get you to the clinic ASAP.â
Yeah yeah yeah Joel grumbles, grunting and groaning as Sasha helps him to his feet, leaning into his side so she can support his weight on his bad side.
âIs your horse nearby?â
âDidnât bring a horse,â he sighs.
âJoel, weâre still over a mile away from home and your legââ
âWell we better get going then, huh?â
âBut, Joelââ
âTimeâs a wastinâ honey, letâs go.â
â
By the time the doctor finishes wrapping Joelâs ankle, he can already see the blood seeping through the bottom layers of the bandages. Sheâs given him some expired meds for the pain that are managing to take the edge off, but heâs still extremely uncomfortable. Heâs not gonna tell her that though.
âIâm gonna need to see you tomorrow to clean and redress this wound.â
âI can come by afterââ
âNo,â she interrupts. âNo, Joel, Iâll make a house call, you shouldnât be walking on this at all. This needs to be elevated so the swelling can go down.â She wraps the second layer tighter and Joel bites back a noise. She notices. âThatâs why itâs leaking like this, you didnât elevate it,â she scolds, and then murmurs under her breath, âAnd you walked a mile on it.â
âWell I knew you made house calls but I didnât think youâd make middle-of-the-forest calls.â
She makes a noise that sounds like hmmm, and grabs another roll of gauze to keep wrapping around. Heâs not sure if she bought his story, that he and Sasha were scavenging together and he wasnât looking where he was going, but she removed the trap from his ankle and gave him a tetanus shot and some antibiotics. He didnât even realize she had all of that here but she opened a locked cabinet and there was a secret stash of medicines, just waiting for him.
Since he was hanging upside-down he didnât lose much blood and the doctor told him she doubts thereâs a broken bone, given that the trap clamped down above the ankle bones and more into the meat of his leg. She is worried about infection, of course, and said that the way it pulled on his leg could take a while for the muscles to heal. How long did Sasha leave you hanging there she kept asking and he kept explaining that theyâd split up to cover more ground, and sheâd found him when he missed their meet-up time.
âI think thatâs enough, Doc, quit fussinâ over me,â he tells her as he shifts on the bed to get up. âGet Sasha for me and Iâll head home, and donât worry, Iâll keep it elevated.â
âSasha left after she dropped you off Joel,â she leans back and points to the doorway, where one of the clinic staff has rolled in a rusted wheelchair. âWeâre gonna take you.â
âIâm not getting in that thing.â
âOh cut it out, you already got your tetanus shot.â
â
He gets out of the chair and stumbles up the front steps, forbidding them from helping him through the door and promising to elevate his leg and keep it that way, trying to keep his voice in a whisper and not disturb the house. He hops inside and his fears are immediately realized when he sees Tess waiting for him at the dining room table. Their eyes meet and they stare at each other in silence for a long while before she rises out of her chair and points to an empty one.
âIâll get you some ice,â she says, walking into the kitchen.
Joel sits in the chair and Tess comes back in, motioning for him to put his leg up on the bench next to him, setting a cloth ice pack gently on his injured leg. She slowly sits down and resumes looking at him. A long silence passes between them.
âYou gonna make me ask?â
âAsk what?â he says casually, then she pins him with a look and he drops all pretense, shrugging his shoulders. âIâm sure Sasha already told you.â
âShe didnât tell me why.â
âWhy? You already know that too.â
âI know you were out there at the farm, Joel, sneakinâ around, messinâ with her stuff, fuckinâ with her head, I donât know what all you get up to. But why, Joel? Why?â
âWhat do you care, anyway?â
âWhy canât you leave her alone?â she hisses
âWhy is that any of your fuckinâ business?â
Tess slams her hand down on the table and hisses, âYou made it my business when you brought her into my house.â
âYour house, is it?â
âYouâre goddamn right itâs my house, and I take care of everyone in it. I sent her to the farm to get some relief from you and your behavior, and you canât show one ounce of self control? Who the fuck are you?â
âI donât thinkââ
âNo, youâre not thinkinâ, thatâs the problem,â she interrupts. Heâs stunned into silence. âIâve taken a lotta shit in my life, Joel, and Iâll keep taking it if itâs for the greater good. Iâve followed you around for years and Iâm loyal, but I ainât stupid. I see you slipping. Everyone does. Everything Iâve done for you, everything Iâve sacrificed for you⊠you gotta play your role.â
âIâm tired of it,â he whispers.
âYouâre not tired of everything it gets you.â
He grumbles at that and mutters something like it doesnât get me what I really want, and she knows he means you. She knows he still wants you, even when he pretends like he doesnât. She sees the way he purposely avoids you and looks the other way when you come near. Itâs all bullshit bravado, and she fuckinâ knows it. She knows heâs sad, lonely, heartbroken without you. But she needs him to either put up or shut up. Admit it or move on. She canât have him stuck in this loop of destruction.
âLeave her be, Joel. Itâs done with her, itâs over.â
â
Two weeks go by in a blur, Joel doesnât sneak away to the farm, he avoids Amber at the Thursday meetings, he steers clear of you at the Sunday service. He goes where Tess tells him to go, meets with who she tells him to meet with. His leg heals well and heâs back on his feet much sooner than the doctor expected him to be. He spends his days working with the gardeners in town to get ready for spring planting, and the evenings working in his office to schedule patrols and plan maintenance for sections of the perimeter fencing.Â
He keeps his head down and keeps his mind occupied. He starts to feel better, and then heâll lie in bed at night and heâll hear the door to the tiny room across the hall close and remember youâre not there. It cuts like a knife in his hollow chest, the slow thumping of his heart echoing in its empty chamber. He feels bad for going the whole day without missing you and his stomach gets tied up in knots over everything that happened.Â
He tries so hard not to think of you, to keep his mind busy with anything else⊠until he canât. Until everyone stands up as he introduces Biancaâs baby to the community and then everyone sits back down and there you are. Youâre standing in the middle of a pew halfway back, staring daggers through him. Looking at him like he just slapped you in the face. He canât help but look at you â for the first time in over two months â and watch you come undone.
He sees you run out of the sanctuary and only Tessâ iron grip clawing at his elbow keeps him from running after you. After the service he tells her heâll meet them in the hall for lunch and she reluctantly leaves him, mouthing behave yourself as she goes.
And then youâre in front of him again, the both of you looking into each otherâs eyes. Thereâs so much fire in yours, he hasnât seen you look like this since the first day he saw them, backed into a corner of the clinic like a trapped animal, teeth bared and ready to pounce. You start snapping at him, biting him with your words, and he canât fucking help himself. He bites at you right back. Every sharp barb of your tongue, every click of your fangs, heâs spurred on to hiss and claw in response. You call him a liar and then tell him you donât care when it couldn't be more obvious that you do.Â
Why wonât you just admit that you care? Why wonât you just admit that you miss him? Why are you so afraid of the truth?
You brush by him, purposely knocking his arm with your shoulder as you exit and when he turns to follow you he sees Tess in the doorway. She walks up to him and he doesnât even realize heâs crying until her arms close around him and heâs sobbing into her shoulder.
âShe hates me,â he heaves.
âShe doesnât hate you, Joel,â she hushes.
âShe does. She thinks that was my baby.â
âDid you tell her it wasnât?â
âNo,â he sniffles.
âWhy the fuck not?â
âCause Iâm incapable of doing the right thing. I just keep fucking up,â he sobs. âI keep doing the wrong thing every fucking time. I grab her, I hurt her, I say the wrong thing, I fuck it all up.â
âWhy do you think that is?â
âI donât fuckinâ know,â he wails.
âI do, I know why.â
âWhy then?â Joel sniffles.
âItâs easier for you to push her away than it is to let her in.âÂ
â
Joel is sitting in silence at the dinner table later that night, mindlessly picking at his plate, lost in his thoughts. The meal has long-since finished and the women are clearing the table, moving in and out of the kitchen and talking with each other. Beth is excitedly telling them about a barn cat who had kittens last year and everyone is gushing over the talk of adorable kittens.Â
Joel remembers Sarah finding two abandoned kittens after a soccer game one cloudy May afternoon, two flea-infested little rats hiding behind the practice fieldâs bathrooms. Sheâd carried them in her shirt back to him, all three of them crying, begging him to let her keep them. He said no a hundred times but still wound up driving all of them all the way across town to the only vetâs office open on a Saturday. Hundreds of dollars later they were stuffed full of medicine and food and were sleeping curled up in the crook of Sarahâs neck.Â
She told him she understood when he said they couldnât keep them forever â allergies, heâd explained â but that didnât stop big, fat tears from rolling down her face when she placed them into the arms of their new owners.
âYou did such a good job taking care of them,â heâd told her, wiping away her tears. âYou should be so proud. Look how big they got! You did that! You gave them a shot at a great life.â
âYou did it too, dad,â sheâd said, hugging him, telling him he also did a good job.
He didnât do shit, he just couldnât say no to her. And she thought he hung the moon. She thought he was some kind of a saint. Joel Miller, patron saint of disgusting, sickly little kittens. The man she thought he was⊠he could never be that man. Not then. Not now. Not after everything heâs done.
And then he realizes heâs sobbing again, at the dinner table, and everyone is staring at him.Â
âYâ You okay, Joel?â Beth asks.
âYeah,â he sniffles. âI was just⊠thinkinâ about Sarah.â
âWhoâs Sarah?â Kerri says.
âCan everyone give us a minute?â Tess says.
The room quickly clears and Joel is still sputtering and sniffling at the head of the table. Tess sits down next to him and he slides off his chair, kneeling on the floor and burying his head in her lap, tears rolling down his face and soaking her jeans. Heâs muttering I canât lose her too and sobbing and Tess thinks this might be it, he might finally be ready to face it.
âWhatâs wrong, Joel?â Tess asks gently.
âShe left me, I fucked up and she left, I donât deserve her, she hates me, Iâm a monster and she hates me and I donât do anything right and I just fail over and over and she canât stand me and all I do isââ his cries, devolve into a blubbering mess.
â
Itâs just before midnight and the house is dark and quiet. Only a lamp in the living room casts a glow on them â Tess and Joel on the couch â where theyâve been sitting and talking for hours. Heâs finally calmed down, having talked through months-worth, if not years-worth, of feelings with her. Things theyâve already talked about, things sheâs suspected but never had confirmed, and secrets theyâve kept even from each other. It felt cathartic, like a weight lifted from the both of them, and they sit in companionable silence before they head up to bed.
A loud, frantic knocking at the front door makes both of them jump. Tess goes to answer it and all Joel hears is a tandem of words, spilling out like a waterfall so quickly he can only catch some of them. Not in bed⊠looked everywhere⊠canât find... He gets up from his seat and heads to the door, freezing when he sees Danny and Diegoâs harrowed faces standing on his darkened porch.
âWâ whatâs goinâ on?â Joel asks, looking between the two men and Tess.
Tess grabs his arm, bracing him.
âShe left.â
đ€
NEXT
As always, muchas gracias to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk for sticking with me through my highs and my lows, my slumps, and my manic incessant babbling about CJ.
TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog
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Request for Roman Roy x Reader fanfic: from the very brief moments in the pilot where they show Roman as a father, I fell in love. I think it would be so cute if you could write a fanfic of Roman being a father, because I both think he is capable of being the best and worst dad in the world. Like he would definitely do his best to shield his kid from his awful family, but like he's also pretty messed up himself. Just Roman accidentally stumbling into domestic life and learning the comforts of what a normal family looks like, teaching himself how to be a good parent and husband.
My baby fever is at an all time high, and youâre requesting this? Shame on you, Nonnie đ€đą Iâm all over this actually. Maybe itâll fill the lonely void in my uterus. I donât often write fluff, but I hope I can do your request justice đ©·
Iâve got one Joel Miller fic Iâm balls deep into writing right now and a couple other Joel and Roman wips but I think I can fit your request in here soon. I wonât forget about you, but feel free to send another ask or a PM if Iâm taking too long. Next week is finals, then I am all yours for the summer.
Love you! Thank you for reading and thank you for requesting, I really really appreciate it. Have a wonderful weekend!! đ©·đ„łđââŹ
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Put four characters who make you yell "MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN"!!
Ty for the tags! @sheepdogchick3 @endlessthxxghts @theweedisasterxoxo đ„°đ„°
BREAKING THE RULES AGAIN. I PICKED 6. Try and stop me.
From left to right, top to bottom. Roman Roy, Conan OâBrien, Tom Wambsgans, Matty Matheson, donât remember his name, Ali from Euphoria.
Npt - @ievutebebe @studioghibelli @joelsgreys @bluecookies-and-ink @noxturnalpascal @beefrobeefcal @tightjeansjavi @romanroyapoligist
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Last Line Tag Game Except I'm Breaking The Rules And Doing What I Want To Do Instead
real rules - post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in a sentence.
thank you for the tags @luxurychristmaspudding @beefrobeefcal @joelmillerisapunk @endlessthxxghts @theweedisasterxoxo @joelsgreys i have to say being tagged by 6 people is an ego boost and i love you all. kisses to you and your pets! <3 <3
âIâm a little behind on laundry, actuallyâŠâ Joel trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. You scoffed and chuckled at that. The luxury of his very own washer and dryer, right in the comfort of his home, and Joel had the audacity to be behind on laundry. âUhh, anyway. You just turn the knob on the dryer to âhighâ and press the start button. Iâll give ya some privacy to change, you can meet me upstairs when youâre done,â he said, and then shuffled past you.Â
Once Joel was up the stairs, you took off your clothes and put them in with the rest of the clothing in the dryer. You changed into Joelâs t-shirt, the fabric was soft with time and many wearings, and it smelled like him despite being washed. You liked it.Â
Upstairs, Joel made a couple of mugs of hot tea to warm you both up. âHoney?âÂ
âYeah, Joel?â
âN-no, likeâŠWas askinâ fâya wanted honey in your tea.â
âOh,â Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. âYâyes please. Thank you,â You felt heat rise to your cheeks. What a stupid thing to say. You watched as Joel stirred a bit of honey into your cup of tea, smirking as he then handed you the mug. Asshole. âThought you were a coffee drinker,â you mused awkwardly, your attempt to change the subject after taking a sip of the hot liquid, âYou like tea?â
Joel grimaced in disgust as he took a sip of his own tea. âNo. Just tryinâ to be polite for ya.âÂ
âYou donât have to drink it if you donât like it,â you giggled. âBut thank you. I appreciate it."
I just thought this was cute. Filth and defiling of washing machines to follow. @joelsgreys when you hear your washer make that little song when it's done washing your clothes, that is me thinking of u
npt - @futureman @sweetenerobert @tightjeansjavi @smok3r7 @bitchesuntitled
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âmen arenât prettyâ wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong bad incorrect stop talking
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Devotion đ€ Chapter 8 in the next 48 hours??
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i just want u to know that whenever im on my period, like clockwork, i read for science. and it fixes me sort of.
Whenever Iâm on my period, I think about writing another period fic. But I only want to write it when Iâm on my period so that I can feel comforted by my imaginary Joel, but I usually lack motivation to write it when my period is at its worst. And Iâm on the nuvaring now so my periods last like 3 days tops which doesnât give me much time. But hound me enough and Iâll write another, because pressure works with me.
Iâm glad for science fixes you, sort of đ©· thanks for reading and sharing this with me. You have no idea how much your words mean to me.
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His shitty attitude and grabbable waist have bewitched me
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â„ïž love train! send this to all the blogs you love! donât forget to spread the love! â„ïž
Aw, fuck. The voids destroyed the love train. Assholes.
I love you too Vi â€ïž
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hiiii ily k byeeeeee
Me listening to your podcast tonight as I make tacos for dinner đź đ§
I love YOU!!! Have a lovely lovely lovely day đ©· say hi to the pup and the kitties for me đ„°
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Some of my favorite parts of this fic -
He was pretty. What a waste. With his big, round eyes, shiny, pitch-colored things; with his nose, soft aquiline curve, and lips, pouting open now, as he looked pitifully back at you.
At first your movements were small and deliberate. Your puffy lips pressed lewdly, not quite wet enough, but enjoying the hard, smooth convex of the helmet between your thighs. You watched Ezra. He was entranced, focused intently on your cunt and the reality of how close you were, and the impossibility of his desires. He wanted to flatten and spread those lips with his lips and tongue and nose and chin. He would have had you thoroughly soaked by now if it was up to him, but you took your time.
âWhy canât you be good?â You complained, breathy and unintentional. You didnât even register that youâd spoken it aloud until another voice, deep and craggy spoke up. âI can be good. Let me.â
This is one of those pieces of artwork that Iâll be thinking about for days. I feel like Iâve fallen in love with reading again (not that Iâve fallen out of love with reading, I just appreciate this and canât believe how fucking good something can be) I really love how youâve written this. The descriptions, the smut, the VOCABULARY!!
Lewd. I love when things are lewd. SALACIOUS!? One of my favorite words ever. It feels dirty to even say when it rolls off your tongue like that.
Truly one of my favorite things ever written đ©·
Sagittarius
Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI
Pairing: Ezra x f reader
Word count: 2.4k
Summary: you and Ezra in your pod.
Warnings: SMUT! PIV, helmet riding, slight bondage? Idk what else.
A word from the author: has anyone done riding Ezraâs helmet yet? No matter. Hereâs mine. With gratitude to the mutuals and the magic sluts.
Your meeting was an improbability on a largely deserted moon. He had talked so sweet, so flattering, so genteel. Like chloroform on a pretty handkerchief. Lorenzo fell for it, too. Lorenzo always was a sucker.
Ezra says heâs sorry.
Sorry he tried to rob you. Sorry he shot your husband dead. Even if Lorenzo did shoot first, you had really wanted to be the one to dispatch the conniving bastard, and he took that from you. The way he squirmed and huffed now, well, thatâs his own doing.
If robbery and murder werenât great enough offenses, heâd had the gall to track you all the way back to your rented pod and barge right in. He couldnât just get away with that.
Youâd heard him. He rattled the door, forced it open, metal creaking and groaning against rusted metal followed by heavy boots thudding against the corrugated metal floor. Youâd already stripped down to your tank top and underwear, a futile attempt at staving off the humid heat of Bakhroma Green. There was no time to get dressed now. You held your thrower in both hands, finger itching at the trigger and your back against the brittle plastic of the pod walls. Fool as he was, he came in head first. When the butt of your Frontiersman didnât quite connect with the required force, Ezra wheeled around and snatched your weapon away, flinging it clear across the pod.
Incensed, you charged at him. Grabbing him, wrenching his arm back and pulling until he hollered and fell forward. You let his weight drop onto the floor, he groaned and bared his teeth, writhing pathetically at your feet. Good. Serves him right. You watched him for a moment, hands on your hips and head cocked. There wasnât time to consider the next step in dealing with your intruder. He was on the floor and you had the upper hand. You couldnât let him get up, that was certain.
No sooner was your mind made than you threw yourself on him, doing your best to pin him down and get him into a headlock or something to incapacitate him long enough for you to toss him back out of the ship and leave him to die. Ezra grunted and panted, bucking and rolling, trying his best to throw you off of his back. You held your own as long as you could, but he was furious and strong. In a flash he grabbed your hair and flipped you both, knocking the wind from your lungs. The ensuing melee saw you tumbling and flailing about the pod, each of you trying hard to get the other to stay still. Panting, sweating, grunting, swearing. You arenât sure how you end up on his back, holding him with his arms bent. Thankfully, he had no energy left to fight, because neither did you. You needed to tie him up.
It wasnât ideal. None of this was, really. It was a shit show from the start and youâve just had to accept that and somehow get through it. You did the only thing you could do under the circumstances and you tied him up with your panties. The fabric was probably cutting off his circulation and the knot may not hold long, but it was good enough. You did your best to put out of your mind the fact that youâre naked from the waist down now. It didnât matter if he saw, you told yourself. As quickly as possible you were going to be shoving him out the hatch and leaving him far behind.
You flipped your captive onto his back, muzzle of your recovered thrower shoved into his chest. With your adversary bound, you relaxed for a moment, catching your breath before you had to haul him out.
You traced your fingertips over his visor. The glass is thick. Scratched and pitted and heavy over his head. Behind it heâs sweating. Small beads on his forehead, nose and cheeks that gathered together and slid down to his hair. It was your first good look at him. He was pretty. What a waste. With his big, round eyes, shiny, pitch-colored things; with his nose, soft aquiline curve, and lips, pouting open now, as he looked pitifully back at you.
He kept those clever eyes trained on yours as you shuffled up closer, knees on either side of his helmet. You rapped gently on the glass, smiling sweetly down at him. You ran your hands over the cool surface, but still he watched you. You lifted the hem of your sweatshirt, and brought it up, up, up over your bare tits, and tossed it aside. You watched with amusement, tilting your head sympathetically to the side as you squeezed and lifted your tits, letting them fall again before gently pinching your nipples. âMmmm. Feels so good, Ezra. Touch me, please. I know you can make it even better.â You whined, teasing him. He closed his eyes, brows furrowed, muttering something you couldnât hear under his helmet. âOh, I forgot. Youâre tied up. Well, I guess if you canât take care of me Iâll have to just do it myself.â You sighed dramatically and rolled your hips, âI think thereâs still a way you can help though. You do want to be good, donât you, Ezra? You want to keep me happy, isnât that right?â He wet his lips with his tongue and nodded shallowly, eyelids looking heavier. You circled your nipples with your fingertips, teasing them into firm points, caressing down your stomach and your thighs.
He squirmed below you and whined when you jutted your hips forward, pressing your bare pussy against the glass. Ezra stared, frozen as you repositioned, settling right over his line of sight so he could see exactly what you were about to do.
At first your movements were small and deliberate. Your puffy lips pressed lewdly, not quite wet enough, but enjoying the hard, smooth convex of the helmet between your thighs. You watched Ezra. He was entranced, focused intently on your cunt and the reality of how close you were, and the impossibility of his desires. He wanted to flatten and spread those lips with his lips and tongue and nose and chin. He would have had you thoroughly soaked by now if it was up to him, but you took your time.
One hand abandoned his helmet and came back up to pluck and twist at your nipples. You closed your eyes and thought of Ezra behaving himself well enough to deserve having his cock sucked. It was big, you could see that through his suit. It was immediately evident that all of that grappling had stirred something in him. His environmental suit was snug over his straining erection. The thick bulge curved up and across his hip, accentuated by the straps banded around his upper thighs. It was impressive in thickness and length. Shame that a nice cock is wasted on a bastard like him. You wondered if he was cut or if thereâd be foreskin to slip back with your lips. You wondered if he would want to come in your mouth, or if he wanted to paint your face and chest with his spend. You thought of how it would taste. You thought of how good it feels to make a strong man so weak.
âWhy canât you be good?â You complained, breathy and unintentional. You didnât even register that youâd spoken it aloud until another voice, deep and craggy spoke up. âI can be good. Let me.â
It was the first thing he had spoken that hadnât been a shouted demand, or a threat. It aggravated you. âShut up.â You snapped at him, he hitched his hips in protest, teeth bared as he watched your arousal slowly seep onto the glass, aiding your gliding movements. It made his mouth water.
Back and forth, a salacious drag right before his eyes, he watched you use his helmet for your pleasure. The delicate inner folds, the swollen bud of your clit, the tender flesh of your lips. Every quickening movement was like a wet, messy kiss, smearing your slick across the smooth plane. He licked his lips and imagined how he would drink you down. He thought of sucking your clit between his lips to feel it twitch.
He didnât realize how destroyed he looked. Wet and pathetic and mewling. He couldnât even feel the way your panties bite into his wrists anymore. He didnât care. He wanted you to have him like this if you wanted.
You hitched closer and closer to your apex with every grind of your hips. The power alone was a potent aphrodisiac, having Ezra, big as he was, under your thumb made you so very wet. He was your plaything, now. Maybe youâd keep him. Use him how you wanted. You could come on his helmet, his thigh, his cock if you wanted to. He wouldnât fight. Not with the way he looked now. His eyes were inky black and shining, his warm breath fogged the glass above his parted lips. You rode his helmet unashamedly, caring only for your own demented pleasure.
Your orgasm felt like a slow motion electric shock. His face was obscured by the wet mess youâd made. It bubbled and dripped obscenely.
Your panting breath matched the rise and fall of his chest below you. Slowly you began the return to reason, to the reality of your situation. Reality is changeable, though and yours took a turn before your eyes even adjusted from the post-orgasmic haze.
You were on your back in a flash. Ezra was caging you in and smiling bodefully down at you, triumphant. Your face was still flushed from your orgasm, but your joy quickly soured. Your panties lay in tatters beside your head.
âHave you had your fun now?â He mocked. Your release still clung to his helmet and you licked a defiant stripe through it, never dropping his dark gaze. Ezra chuckled and held both your wrists in one hand while he flung off his helmet and tore at the closures of his suit.
âWhat was your plan? You use me and then what? Leave me high and dry?â He shook his head, feigning disappointment in your carelessness, all the while fighting his way out of the dirty canvas suit, pulling at buttons and straps until one arm was free and his thin, sweat-damp undershirt clung to his broad chest.
You didnât notice when youâd stopped struggling in his grip, but Ezra certainly did. He clocked the trail your eyes made from his lips to his neck, to his shoulders and down his torso to where the elastic band of his boxers peeked out. He loosened his grip, shook his other arm from its sleeve, and puffed out his chest. His suit sagged down his narrow hips, as he reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion. What a sight he was. Muscular but soft, rough but tender. The thick swell of his now turgid member pulled at his boxers.
He palmed over it, emphasizing the length with the slow drag of his hand.
He licked his lips. âGo on.â He challenged. âTell me to be good again.â
The air inside the pod had become thick and heavy, your skin was warm and your joints all felt too loose. The snarl you had intended came out as a ragged plea of his name.
Ezra was gentler than youâd expected. He let go of your wrists with a pointed look meant to keep you from doing anything rash, and began to explore your body. He squeezed your hips, kneading the yielding flesh, then sliding his hands up your sides, letting his fingers follow the shape of your ribs. He caressed over your belly, circling your belly button with his thumb. He watched as your chest rose and fell. He slid his palms up, flat against your skin as he pushed your bare tits together.
You could feel his hips shifting against you, feel the weight of his bulge against your cunt while he dropped to his elbow to bring your nipple to his mouth. His touch was firm. You could feel the hunger and need in the way he licked and sucked at your pointed nipples. He was holding back.
âTell me.â He repeated. His voice was deeper, gravelly.
Your eyes fluttered closed and for a moment you wondered what came next. You knew what he wanted from you in this moment, but after that? You didnât have the strength to fight him again. You released the breath you had been holding and asked him once more: âBe good, Ezra.â
There was little resistance when he plunged into you. He watched your face as you took what he gave, the way your mouth fell open and your head tipped back as he buried himself deep in your wet heat.
He hooked his arms under your shoulders, keeping you beneath him, as if youâd dream of leaving now. He grunted with the force of his hips pounding down into you, each heavy stroke forcing breathy cries from you. âAh! Ah! Ahh! Ezra!â
âIs this good enough?â He asked, slowing his pace and looking down into your unfocused eyes. He looked further, down the planes of your sweat-slick bodies to where he stretched you in his cock. He rolled his hips just so, catching your clit with the wet hair at the base of his cock. You came, and he could feel your pounding pulse through the thin skin of your neck where he nibbled and sucked. When your body settled he redoubled his thrusts, palming your breast and panting into your neck until the moment he pulled out and spilled across your cunt.
The pod was silent, save for your heavy breaths, and you watched Ezra with caution. He was looking around, taking in the blinking lights and muted beeping of the control panel. He looked curious. Maybe resigned. He rubbed your thigh and you lay beside him on the floor, too aware of how your initial plan of escape was now useless. Your brain too scrambled from the force of your orgasm to formulate a new one.
Perhaps fortunately, you didnât need to. Ezra squeezed your knee and leaned over you. He kissed you slowly and tenderly. Then, quietly, he whispered against your lips âgive me the starter.â
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