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trixiesees · 1 year

Note

29, 18, and 20 for joel x reader? 🥹

Swallow

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, face fucking, fingering, joel talks, squirting, swallowing)

prompts: 20. “Breathe through your nose.” // 29. “Touch me there. Right there.” // 18. “Swallow.”

joel masterlist

“That’s it,” he sighed, his drawl reduced to a gravelly husk as he watched you get into position for him. Your head hung over the edge of the bed, your body laid flat on your back with your thighs spread, just like he ordered. “That’s it, baby girl. Open your mouth wide for me.”

You obeyed, sticking your tongue out flat as you opened wide. Joel was pumping his cock, as he watched you squirm with anticipation, drops of his precum falling onto your waiting lips as he worked himself up.

“You ready for me to fuck that pretty face, baby?” You nodded eagerly, clenching your thighs to get some relief. Joel guided the thick head of his cock into your open mouth, a content sigh slipping from his lips as your lips wrapped around his girth. Pressing deep down your throat, he stopped when you began to sputter, his thumb soothing your jaw to relax. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Just like that. I need your throat to relax for me if I’m gonna fuck it like you wanted.”

You mewled against him, the sound muffled as he pushed deep into your throat and stayed there for a moment before pulling all the way out.

“How’s that, sweet thing?” he asked, keeping his thumb on your open jaw.

“Perfect,” you rasped, drunk on him.

“You want anything from me, baby, you just need to ask,” he reminded as he stroked his now slick cock against your pursed lips.

“Touch me—“ you hurried out, delighting in the half-grin growing on his handsome face.The hand on your migrated to your breast and he gave your nipple a pinch, raising an eyebrow as though to confirm that was indeed where you wanted him, though you both knew it wasn’t. You shook your head and grabbed his hand, lowering it to your soaked cunt. “There. Right there.”

“You like me fuckin’ this pretty pussy with my fingers while you swallow my dick, baby?” he asked, but gave you no room to answer as he curled his fingers inside your cunt at the same time as he slipped his cock deep into your throat. He groaned at the vibrating of your mouth around his cock, his fingers rewarding you for taking him so well by adding his thumb against your clit in time with his upward thrusts towards your g-spot. “Oh, sweet thing, you’re so good.”

You felt blinded with pleasure as he continued at it, his fingers so skilled against you while his cock continued to thrust deep into your throat.

“Baby girl, you’re gonna make me cum,” he warned in a whimper, his words tightening the thread of ecstasy in your belly until it threatened to break. “God damn,” he groaned when you reached to massage his balls. “Baby, fuckin’ hell. I need your pretty pussy to cum for me. I’m gonna fuck your throat full of my cum, but I need you to—“

Your walls squeezing around his fingers so hard that they pushed them out interrupted his begging, your orgasm soaking the sheets beneath you.

Joel groaned as loud as an animal and thrust once, twice into your throat before he stayed in deep, his cock twitching as his cum painted your esophagus. He opened his pleasure-lazy eyes to look down at you, his thumb swiping the bit of cum that escaped your lips and pressed it back inside your mouth while keeping his cock inside. “Swallow.”

You did as he ordered and swallowed him down with a moan, his taste so bitter but so, so sweet.

“Fuckin’—Jesus, baby,” he panted and slowly pulled himself from your throat before helping you to lay on the pillows. He crawled in beside you as you coughed to clear your throat, a sated smile on both of your faces. “Next time you get an idea like that, just say the word and we’ll make it happen. That was…fuckin’ incredible.”

“Told you,” you purred with a smitten smile as you rested your head on his chest.

•

#a.pedro pascal #c.joel miller #tv.tlour

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trixiesees · 1 year

Text

Face it, this is Love!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,595

Summary: You have some shopping to do and Bucky is more than happy to tag along.

Author’s Note: So thank you to my lovely menace of a flower @flordeamatista just randomly sharing goodies with us and when she shared this tik tok HERE I was like OMG I must write it, so here we are! Hope you enjoy and thank you my sweet Ali for always being inspiring and wonderful, love you! 💕Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweets 🥰

Warnings: silly, fluffy and sweet fun!

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @captain-james thank you lovely🥰

You grab your sneakers and sit on the edge of the couch, dropping them in front of you then crawling between Bucky’s spread legs and draping yourself over him.

“Hi Buck,” you say quietly and gently pull down the top of his book.

“Hi baby doll,” he croons, dropping the book to his chest and wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m going to the store,” you inform him with a quick kiss.

Keep reading

#a.sebastian stan #c.bucky barnes #m.mcu

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trixiesees · 1 year

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Don’t Be Cute, Be Nasty

Summary: You hate the thought of being inexperienced and Joel, your caring stepfather, just wants to help out. Practise makes perfect, right?

Characters: Stepdad!Joel Miller x Stepdaughter!Reader.

Words: 3.2K.

Warnings: stepdad/stepdaughter relationship, step incest, reader is over 18, blow jobs, cum swallowing, deep throating, vaginal fingering, orgasms, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Not even sorry. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

“C’mon, you can do better than that,” Joel tuts, clicking his tongue as he pulls you roughly off his cock by a clump of hair.

Spluttering, you gulp back oxygen like it’s water. “I c-can’t.”

Your jaw aches as spittle and cum dribble down your chin, your throat burning from the force of his thrusts. Using the back of your hand to wipe away the mess, you notice the disappointment in his eyes as he rolls them, and your stomach sinks in shame.

Keep reading

#a.pedro pascal #c.joel miller #tv.tlou

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trixiesees · 1 year

Text

Silence

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Joel makes a silent promise.

—

This is something quiet, something needed, something necessary.

Your lives ruled by survival these days, this is no different. It’s as needed as air, the sustenance you find in each other’s mouths.

There is a fire: a small one, the light unable to reach the far corners of the room and so your moving shadows pool there instead; a rhythmic, repetitive joining of figures on the wall.

There is little sound — only harsh panting, scrapes of boots against the worn wooden floor and softened whimpers swallowed by low groans. Just two bodies attempting to sate an ache they’ve had all day — all week — but never feeling safe enough to give in.

It’s safe now, and so you do.

Your knees dig into the unforgiving hard floor in your straddle on his lap, his own thighs cushioning your ass with every roll of your hips downward and his roughened hands grasp your skin, one sliding under your shirt to splay over your lower back, the other cradling the nape of your neck in a fierce hold.

Your fists twist and clench the soft, faded fabric of his denim shirt, seeking to anchor yourself to him as he strokes something deep inside that threatens to overcome your senses, and when you grind down on the stiff weight of his cock, the guttural groan he lets out is muffled by your hungry mouth.

The strands of his grey tinged beard slide under your palms when you cradle his cheeks, your fingers slipping up into the untidy swirl of his curls and he can feel your thighs start to tremble around his hips, your cunt clutching him wet and tight. So fucking tight still, for as many times as he’s taken you like this.

You would murmur his name brokenly into his mouth if you could form words right now, but instead your eyes shut tight in their focus on the way he feels so full inside you.

As a man of few words himself, it’s okay because he doesn’t need to hear you say it. He can feel it in the way you seek him out with a desperate need. Can feel it with every press of your mouth, with every clutch of your grip, with the way you wind your limbs around him and he takes it all, his hands reassuring in their greedy touch.

He’s got you. He always does.

–

The want had been a simmering thing that you tried to ignore for as long as you could remember.

He had taken you in and given you shelter, and on that very first night, while you should have been occupied with thoughts of trusting him, you couldn’t stop watching his hands.

The competent way he moved them: handling his supplies, packing his bag, loading a gun, fixing you food.

He didn’t ask too many questions and that was okay, because you had been too tired to give him any answers. After you ate, he let you curl up in his worn couch and sleep.

The first time you gave in was a night similar to this one: in a used, musty house, in a nondescript room that used to belong to someone but now belonged to no one. You had been agitated, frustrated, your need for him seeping into your every pore and coming out in harsh replies to his low drawl and so, on an instinct, he kissed you.

His mouth caught yours, his lips dry, but soft. Plush, and warm, and molding against yours with his own hidden hunger that had been growing inside him, he had backed you into the wall and his hands — marred with the marks of a recent fight — spanned your cheeks, holding in you place.

Starting with a brutal, rough kiss and ending with a slick warmth running down between your thighs as he spent himself on your skin, you laid still as he wiped it off with a dusty rag he kept tucked in his back pocket.

You had looked at each other then, unsure of what was next. This new facet of your relationship, too big for words, the weighted silence of the pressed in — and so you said nothing, and neither did he.

—

His breath is a humid, rapid pant into your mouth, bursts of warmth skimming between your lips and over your tongue and you’re breathing him in, your lips catching his between thrusts.

His groans are strained, taut with arousal and the need to be quiet and when he can’t, he buries his face and lets them loose into the plane of your chest, your heart thrumming right underneath the low rumble. Absorbing your stress and your adrenaline and your need, he pulls it from your body with every touch of his fingers, sliding his hand down the dip of your spine until it splays over the swell of your ass and he makes you fuck yourself on him until you’re so full that he pushes everything else out.

His muscles shake with effort, his arms squeezing you as tightly as possible to bury himself as deep as he can and you let out a sob, your face twisting with a pleading, desperate need in the dark.

“Shhhh,” he scolds tenderly, the sound a long, drawn out shaky thing as he watches where you’re joined with hooded eyes.

His knuckles are white in their grip, just like on his gun earlier today and his hands skate roughly over every inch bare skin he can find. Pushing up under your dirty clothes, you’re sweat slick under his palm as he rests it over the meat of your hip with a harsh grip.

Harder, he presses and guides. He wants it harder.

There will be a bruise there tomorrow, you can already feel it forming in the shape of his hand. It will join the rest of the battered marks on your skin; some from existing, most from him.

“Joel,” you inhale sharply, a keening whine slipping out from your chapped lips that are pressed together in an attempt to stay quiet and when you come, he knows he should pull out before he comes too, but that ship has sailed long ago.

“Fuck,” he groans, a strained, broken, husky whisper into the dark room and the two of you are momentarily locked tightly together as he swells and spills inside you; the two shadows on the wall merging as one.

–

The fire crackles, the fading light getting dimmer. It’s just enough to keep some of the shadows at bay, just enough to find each other in the dark.

“What’s gonna happen to us?” Your clothes buttoned back into place, you whisper the words into the crook of his shoulder and when he doesn’t reply, you aren’t sure if he heard them.

You stay silent instead of pressing him, unsure if you’re ready to think about his answer anyway.

He has heard you though. He rolls onto his side, draping his arm over you and you tuck yourself into the reassurance of his embrace, the solidness of his body one of your only comforts.

“I don’t know,” he says after a deep sigh. His thumb follows the line of your spine and you close your eyes, sleep weighing your lids.

As you sleep, he looks at you. The ache in his chest at the sight of your face is something he stopped trying to fight long ago, but it doesn’t make it less harder to live with.

His jaw sets, a tick of muscle rolling under the skin.

He can’t say the words he’s thinking. He’s felt them and failed before, the weight of those failures taking root in his very being and pulling him deeper into the darkness every day.

The flickering light dancing across your face shines through only just to the heart of it and he can’t stop himself from making a promise — a silent one.

“But if it’s bad, I won’t let it.”

#a.pedro pascal #c.joel miller #tv.tlou

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trixiesees · 1 year

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I'd Follow You Anywhere

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Even when the world is falling a apart, it's not all bad all the time. Sometimes you stumble upon those lightening-in-a-bottle nights that make everything seem like it's going to be okay. Even with monumental changes looming on the horizon.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: TLOU has my heart right now, and I just really wanted to write something. I hope you guys enjoy! There's soft smut towards the end.

This piece contains 18+ content.

He should be asleep. All three of you should be. But he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this awake. The moon had long come out to brave the sky, a glowing beacon miles above a fallen world. Tonight, you’d managed to slip into one of those rare pockets in time where everything seemed less fractured and more whole.

The classic rock song emitting from the record player has him tapping the beat onto his thigh like a man well practiced. Ellie watches his hand as her head rests on his shoulder, bruised knuckles and all. Another yawn creeps up on her and she stiffles it into his shirt.

They’re sitting on the couch waiting for you.

In the middle of trying to coax him up to dance, you remembered he hadn’t seen you in your new dress. Since he arrived home earlier that evening, the three of you had been caught up eating, laughing, and talking about other things that the dress had slipped your mind. Ms. Wright from across the hall had sewn it for you at a thank you.

She’d been living alone since her husband passed, and you always made a point to check in on her. Sometimes Ellie tagged along too, and enjoyed every second of eating soft mints and listening to the two of you share stories about better days.

“Alright, I’m about to come out,” you announce.

Joel startles when Ellie springs up off the couch and goes to stand behind it so she can cover his eyes. When you walk into the living room to the sight, he’s fighting a smile and losing. Ellie looks beyond proud of herself, and you can’t help but let out a laugh infused with nothing but fondness.

“We’ve gotta do a reveal countdown,” she insists.

Joel has no qualms with that. Your laughter is close and hers is even closer. It’s all he ever wanted these days.

“Take it away.” You motion to her.

“Okay. Three…two…one!”

She keeps her hands over his eyes, however. Joel huffs in feigned annoyance.

Having the one up on him was a luxury only the two of you got to experience.

“You’re really missing out,” you tease.

A squeak escapes Ellie when he gently grabs onto her wrists. “Okay, okay! Don’t break me.”

Next thing he knows, he can see. It takes a couple blinks for his eyes to readjust.

Heat blooms beneath his skin as he tries to determine where to settle his gaze. First it’s your chest and the way the fabric hugs it, then it’s the skin of your legs that remains uncovered beyond the flowy lower half that falls at your knees.

But it’s your smile that does him in. He clears his throat and sits up a little straighter.

“You’ve gotta give us a spin now,” Ellie insists.

Joel catches the shy way you wrinkle your nose, as if suddenly registering all the attention on you.

“Just one, baby.” His drawl makes you give in.

Upon making it back around, there’s an intensity to his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“So?” You smooth your hands down the front.

Pushing himself up, he saunters towards you with his broad shoulders moving in an all too familiar sway. His warm hands find your waist and run down the curve of your hips to admire your shape. He no later dips his head to give you a chaste kiss that leaves you looking up at him through your lashes. So little things made sense anymore, but your love for one another was among them.

Ellie could see it. Feel it. The excess overflowed and was the very thing sustaining her. You two were her home, her light in formidable darkness.

As she watches the two of you, an unfamiliar degree of gratefulness weighs down on her and tears gather at her waterline.

She quickly wipes her eyes, and slips out of the living room in case more threaten to spill over. In the hallway, she presses her back to the wall and sniffles quietly enough to assume no one heard. But you do. There’s a Polaroid photo of the three of you taped to the parallel wall. You’re all sitting on the back of the truck bed, and Joel’s in the middle looking famously unimpressed. The beginnings of a smile start on her face.

An unspoken sense of understanding haloes the room when she walks back in. Joel extends an arm towards her as an invitation to come join your embrace. She accepts it as easy as breathing, nuzzling her face into his chest.

With both of you in his arms and music still droning low, Joel closes his eyes through a brief exhale. This is everything he was ever afraid of. Not only having one person he’d lay down his life for, but two. It was the type of fear that ached and consumed, but pushed him through every waking second to fight against the odds and endure, survive.

The type of fear that only existed in the presence of love.

“I’ve got you two,” he promises. “Always will.”

Two abrupt gunshots sound from outside.

Faint apologies arise a heartbeat later, only to be met by someone barking to get back indoors.

Those had been warning shots.

“Curfew breakers,” you murmur.

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but Joel had grown uncharacteristically stiff. In fact, he’d been on edge all week when it came to patrol officers.

Yesterday, a young officer approached you to compliment your contribution to the newest mural in the children’s center, and Joel had pulled you closer to his side without so much as thinking. It was as if he was anticipating punishment to befall the two of you for a reason unbeknownst to you.

You hadn’t asked any questions then, but now your curiosity has been renewed.

Rather than commenting on anything in front of Ellie, you settle on scratching his lower back in that comforting way he likes. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything.

Instead, she glances towards the clock. “I didn’t realize it was almost midnight.”

“Tired?” you ask.

“A little. But I’m not gonna be the weak link by turning in first.”

“You’re already the weak link,” Joel says with no bite.

Ellie’s mouth falls open as she pulls away in feigned offense. “I could be the strongest one here but we just don’t know it yet.”

He can’t help but admire that spark within her. “You might be, kid.” He means it.

She disappears to her room after a chorus of goodnights, leaving the two alone.

Joel’s hands return to your waist, this time with a more charged sense of need. He leans in to kiss you, but you cup his cheeks to stop him, beard rough against your palms.

“Hey,” you say. “Is everything okay?

Something flickers across his expression, but disappears like a vapor.

“Mhm.” A distracting buzz of electricity courses through you when he reaches around and gives your backside a firm knead.

His voice is gruff when he speaks next. “So goddamn gorgeous.”

You try to muster the strength to ask if his previous answer was truthful, but his lips finally find yours and all you can think about is his scent, his warmth, the feel of him. He’s a walking incantation that has settled beneath your skin and taken your judgment captive.

In a calculated motion, he breaks from the kiss and sweeps you up bridal style. The butterflies in your stomach grow in number as he carries you to your bedroom, shutting the door with his foot behind you.

With your back flush against the mattress and legs hanging over the edge, you look up at him in a way that’s past innocent, face glowing in the dim light. Your smile is sweet as anything, and your dress has ridden high on your thighs. Joel studies you with a degree of restraint that makes him burn.

His muscles stretch and ripple as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. He’s battered, bruised, hairy, and everything you want.

As if at an altar, he drops to his knees between your legs. It’s clear he’s not in the mood for chit-chat considering the immediate way he turns his face to kiss along the skin of your inner thighs. With a calloused hand, he pushes the dress up for more access and his index finger finds the cotton of your panties.

He traces over the fabric, making note of every squirm and breath hitch. There’s nothing rushed about his movements and that makes you all the more sensitive. When you lift your hips, he understands you’re asking him to take off the one article keeping him from where you need him.

The air of the room initially feels cool against your heat, but the warmth returns when he circles your clit and runs his fingers through your folds in a way that makes your thighs jump.

He’s caught off guard when you reach down to push his hand away.

“Can we fast forward?” you breathe. The sincerity of your tone makes him flush as stands back up to his full height.

It felt good to be wanted.

Before he has the chance to do it himself, you sit up and begin working on his belt, freeing it from the loops and letting it fall to the floor with a dull clink. Joel pulls his jeans and boxers down in one go, and you hurry to pull your dress over your head, repositioning yourself on the bed. The mattress dips as he crawls overtop of you, and he takes a moment to palm your breasts before aligning himself at your slick entrance.

You reach up to smooth the furrow between his brows. “And you’re sure everything’s okay?” you ask.

Rather than offering a proper answer, he eases himself into your warmth and you’re forced to welcome him with fluttering lashes and a heavy sigh of pleasure. He feels halfway guilty for deflecting yet again, but you feel so good around him that he’s able to get lost in you instead. His thrusts remain steady and deep so he feels every little detail there is to be felt. You hook your legs around the back of his thighs and grip his biceps so he has no choice but to stay close—as if there was anywhere else he was planning to go. When he feels you clench around him, he picks up the pace.

“Oh, God, yes,” you breathe, closing your eyes. “Just like that.”

Pleasure swells within him like a wave awaiting the moment it can crash onto the shore. He bites back the groans that want to crawl up his throat because he can’t afford being too loud with paper thin walls. The way you look beneath him, all dazed and dreamy, makes it nearly impossible. He’s never met another person who makes him feel this turned on, this desired, this needed.

You were as good as they came. Kind, and principled, and unbelievably selfless. Things were only getting worse in the QZ, and the thought of you—and Ellie, for that matter—falling victim to the immorality of a broken system was something he refused to see manifest. That’s why he had to get the two of you out of here. He already had it all planned out, but had yet to tell the two of you.

That’s why he’d been so on edge.

“Joel,” you quietly praise, breath fanning over his lips.

He hadn’t even realized he’d touched his forehead to yours.

With immeasurable tenderness, he kisses you and reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit just the way you like.

You shudder beneath him and dig your nails into his skin, leaving behind crescent indents. A few breaths later, the world is fading in and out as you let go, pulsing around his length in strong waves. It takes so much out of you that your muscles have gone limp by the end. Joel finds his own release in the midst of it all and can’t stifle his low grunts in time. But he feels so high and out of his body that he doesn’t care.

When his breathing begins to grow even, he pulls himself out of you and you whimper at the loss. The mattress squeaks as he falls onto the bed alongside you, your gazes remaining on each other. You blink dreamily while he barely blinks at all, afraid he’ll miss something. But you’re being more studious of him than he assumes.

“Now will you talk?” You run a gentle hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp until he shivers. “There’s nowhere else to hide.”

So he tells you about his plans, praying to God that you meant the words you’d spoken to him all those months ago.

I’d follow you anywhere.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated—I promise I see them all.

To join my "taglist," turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting

See my pinned post for more fics!

#a.pedro pascal #c.joel miller #tv.tlou

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trixiesees · 1 year

Note

Joel fucking reader and she begs him to pull out but he comes inside her anyway (he has a secret breeding kink) 🥵🥵🥵

🥵 Hot damn. NSFW 18+

Month or two into the outbreak, you’ve run out of birth control, all the condoms have long been looted. Sex is practically the only thing left worth living for and you refuse to give it up. Even if you tried, Joel is too fucking hot, you spend half the day fantasizing about him.

You find a soft grassy knoll and a creek to rest by. Joel comes up behind you and starts kissing at your neck, reaches around to unbutton your shirt.

Right away you remind him, “You’ve gotta pull out, babe.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he says into your neck as he plants his mouth and sucks, and your body opens up with a need to be filled.

“Promise me.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he reaches into your shirt and feels your nipple harden against his palm.

Unsure if he’s hearing a word you say, just to be safe you get on top this time. You straddle him while he sits back on his knees and his hips move like the ocean as you ride him. You roll your hips to his rhythm, your clit rubbing into his body just right, arms draped around his shoulders.

You start to come and know he won’t be far behind you, so you bear down on his shoulders and the balls of your feet reach for the ground. Before you can dismount him, he sits up on his knees and cradles your head with one hand, lays you down flat on the grass and yanks both your thighs into him.

“Pull out, babe,” you remind him. He doesn’t respond, just pummels you through your climax.

“Come on my tits,” you try as the waves of your climax keep coming.

Still no sign of Joel pulling out. He grunts and winces, leans forward, puts you in a full-on mating press, keeps pounding into you.

“Fuck, come in my mouth,” you beg, but then it’s too late.

He erupts inside you. You gasp and moan and give up. You give in.. It feels too fucking good milking him, his cock pulsing enormously, his hot seed filling you up. It's happening. You might as well enjoy it.

He stays inside you, pressing your quads into your abdomen.

“Babe you know i love to feel you come. But I’m telling you, one day our luck is going to run out."

He's counting on it.

“No, you’re right.” he says, and finally pulls out, keeping an eye on your tight, wet hole, hoping not too much of him drips out.

Thanks for the ask! <3

joel miller master list

#a.pedro pascal #c.joel miller #tv.tlou

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trixiesees · 1 year

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“an accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment pass before you crash your lips back against each other's”

Tommy Miller x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 853

Warnings- mutual pining, flirting, feelings confession

Notes- Requested by my dear friend @agirllovespancakes for my 4k follower drabble event! Thank you so much I loved writing this and I love Tommy so much!!! I’m so glad you’re back on tumblr too!!

Taglists are closed. To stay up to date on when I post, follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates

You let out a heavy sigh as you lifted the box off the ground. Working at the bar in Jackson was hard work, but it was worth it. You knew how lucky you were to have found this town, and it was your way of giving back to the place that saved your life. Normalcy was rare in this world, but you tried your best to make the bar seem as much as life was before the outbreak as possible.

And there was one person in particular that you loved to see all the time.

Keep reading

#a.gabriel luna #c.tommy miller #tv.tlou

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trixiesees · 1 year

Text

ain’t no sunshine || j.m.

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || no one pegged Joel Miller to be a jealous person, but sometimes that angry green monster got the best of him OR five times Joel Miller lost his shit over you.

author's note || i couldn't decide on one so i decided to write them all and make a series out of it. this entire fic series was inspired by ain't no sunshine by bill withers bc joel is in love ok and i also have a playlist!!

warnings || SMUT, jealousy, envy, canon typical violence, angst, insecurities, arguments, toxic relationships, 10 year age gap, [18+ only]

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away

one: come and get your love ✰

two: crazy ✰

three: forgiving you was easy ✰ [coming soon]

four: cry, cry, cry

five: future days

playlist: joel playlist

#a.pedro pascal #c.joel miller #tv.tlou

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trixiesees · 1 year

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bunny - one shot

Javier Peña x PhoneSexOperator!Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, aliens??

A/N: Just for funsies. I’m gonna do a second part to this at some point in time. Is it considered a one shot then??? Idk. Enjoy ☎️

The first time you heard Javier Peña’s voice was in 1998.

Fresh off a call with one of your regulars, Dale, with whom you role played an alien abduction fantasy, detailing the things you would theoretically do to extract his sperm in an attempt to make an alien-human hybrid clone. You told him all about how you were wrapping your spindly, gray, extraterrestrial fingers around his cock, pumping his throbbing manhood, so warm, so deliciously human. From wherever he was, a wet slapping sound and shaky little moans filled your ears.

Sometimes you theoretically shoved things up his ass while he actually shoved things up his ass. Probing, he called it. Sometimes you’d theoretically take him in your tiny, lipless alien mouth while you sat at your kitchen counter and stretched your very human lips around a dildo, rutting up and down until you were gagging and gasping for air. Dale, on the other end, would start out whimpering no, don’t, I have a wife. Then as the squelching sounds of the dildo in your mouth grew wetter, faster, he would grunt out things like fuck yes, you fucking like that you naughty little alien?

Only after he came would he allow the façade to break, mumbling a thank you, telling you about how his wife thought his fetish was too weird to partake in this kind of role play. You said that you enjoyed his calls because it allowed you to be creative and… actually, you found it kind of hot. He said he’d talk to you soon and dropped the call.

Then the next call came in.

“Hi,” you purred, “What’s your name?”

“Javier,” he replied, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The dulcet baritone of his voice was smooth and sure. There was clinking and a long sip from his end, indicating that he was drinking.

“Bunny,” you told him, “What’re you drinking tonight, Javier?”

This was a fake name, of course, and was listed in your newspaper ad alongside a grainy black and white picture of a woman who was most definitely not you. Most men know this, sometimes asking what’s your real name? Or, what do you really look like? And you always tell them the same thing: I’m whatever you want me to be, handsome.

A fantasy. A shapeshifter. Custom-tailored to outfit their most depraved sexual cravings.

“Whiskey,” he answered, “How long have you been doing this… Bunny?”

As thinly-veiled as his disbelief was, you appreciated his attempt to suspend it when he said your fake name.

“About a year now,” you started off around your kitchen’s island counter, stepping heavy to let him hear your heels click-clack against the tiled flooring. That really got some men going.

The wet swallow of his throat, a slurp, then a quiet sigh. Another sip of his whiskey. He then inquired, “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you replied earnestly, looking up at your ceiling, studying the grooves of the light fixture hanging above you, “I get to talk to all kinds of interesting people.”

His throat rumbled in acknowledgment.

“How was your day today, handsome?” you prodded, trying to sus out what this man’s motive was for calling. Some people take a while to gather the courage to come out with it. A few just want to talk.

“It was shit,” he grumbled. The flick of a lighter, then a muffled inhale, exhale. Smoking.

“What can I do to make it better?” you asked, edging your voice along the rasp of your throat.

Javier took a long drag off (what you assumed to be) his cigarette, then said, “Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

You frowned and hummed in contemplation, searching your mind for what you think would make Bunny happy.

Then he added, “But don’t give me some horse shit answer like you’re just so happy with a cock crammed down your throat, ok sweetheart? Real answer.”

This made you laugh, and you told him, “Sure. Ok, let me think.”

“I like your laugh,” he commented softly while you were digging through your brain.

“Thank you, Javier,” you smiled, then started pacing around your island counter as you mulled over an answer that’s real, but not too real as to reveal the tender parts of yourself you keep separate from this job.

He waited patiently, sipping his drink and smoking.

“There’s a bird feeder in the garden of my apartment complex,” you confided as you leaned against the counter and crossed an arm across your soft middle, “In the morning I sit out on my deck and watch the birds while I drink coffee.”

“And that makes you happy?” he asked. His voice was flat and unbelieving.

“It does,” you confirmed, nodding your head as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, “I think it’s important to take joy in the small things. Like how the sky looks when the sun is rising. Or when I see a black-crested titmouse at the bird feeder.”

“A what?” Javier chuckled, and it was warm and deep and genuine, “What’re you, a Boy Scout?”

“Bunny scout,” you joked.

Heat spread across your face like wildfire when he laughed at this. The sound made your heart skip a beat.

“And, what makes you happy, Javier?” you asked then, dropping your voice to sultry croon.

He grunted at this. The sound of a fridge opening. Ice clattering into his glass. The glug-glug-glug of whiskey being poured.

You pushed off the counter and walked around the island again, the click-clack of your heels on tile sounding off every second like a timer.

“I suppose, the company of a beautiful woman like you is enough to make me happy.”

“I thought you said no horse shit answers,” you teased.

He laughed again, which made you smile, then he cleared his throat and admitted quietly, “I’ve been trying to figure it out lately.”

“Trying to figure out what makes you happy?”

“Trying to figure out what happiness is,” he clarified.

The salience of his admission struck you. You hummed to emphasize its poignancy, then told him, “Happiness is whatever you want it to be, handsome.”

Javier was the one humming then. A long sip of his whiskey. The sound of a lighter sparking the tip of a cigarette.

“Can I ask you to do something for me, sweetheart?”

“Whatever you want, Javier,” you cooed.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You looked down at your baggy t-shirt and biker shorts, “A red lace bra and matching panties.”

“What you’re really wearing, Bunny,” he purred, “Let me see you how you are.”

“I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt,” you admitted with a smirk.

“Take your shirt off,” he instructed.

You placed the phone on the counter and pulled your shirt off over your head, dropping it next to the phone. When you brought it back to your ear, you notified him, “My shirt is off.”

“Mmm, good girl,” he breathed, “Bra?”

“Not wearing one,” you told him, “I’m… topless in my kitchen right now.”

“Squeeze your tits.”

With your free hand, you graze your breast, then pinch your nipple with a whimper, “I’m squeezing my tit.”

“The other one, too.”

You comply, attending to the opposite side with another airy whimper.

“Do you still have shorts on?”

“Yes.”

“Take them off.”

You shimmied your shorts and underwear down to your ankles, then stepped out of them, “They’re off.”

The jingling of a belt buckle. A zip. More jingling. A soft exhale.

“I’m touching myself,” you told him as you dragged your fingertip along your seam, exploring the ridges and valleys of your sex.

“Tell me more.”

“I’m rubbing my clit,” you narrate your actions in a throaty whisper, “Drawing circles around it, it feels so fucking good, Javier.”

“Suck on your fingers.”

You did this, humming and licking around your digits.

“Are they wet?”

“Yes.”

“Spit in your hand. I wanna hear it.”

You gathered a wad of saliva on your tongue and spit it onto your fingers.

“Good,” he rumbled, “Rub your clit again, sweetheart.”

A whimper falls from your lips as you follow his instructions, “Oh my god, Javier.”

He groaned and the sound dripped down your center, hot and tangible as it pooled inside you.

“Are you stroking your cock?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“Good,” you purred, “Fuck, this feels so fucking amazing, baby.”

“Tell me more,” his voice was low and strained.

“Rubbing my swollen fucking clit, I’m so fucking wet,” you whined, and it was real, the heat gathering at your core and pooling between your legs.

“Let me hear how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.”

You slid your touch down your lips and spread your slick around, then sank two fingers into your cunt. With a shaky moan, you started fucking yourself, letting the wet squelch of your arousal sound off freely, breathing, “Can you hear that, Javier? How much you turn me on?”

“Oh my god, yes-” he groaned, “Are you fingering yourself?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, so you did, then he told you, “Put the phone on the ground so I can hear you. Keep doing what you’re doing, baby, make yourself feel fucking good. I wanna hear you make yourself cum.”

“Setting the phone down,” you told him, then put it to rest on the floor between your spread knees.

This man’s stern instructions swirled around in your head, filling you with fire. You followed the urges of your flesh, moaning wantonly as your hands worked your body, “Yes yes yes- just like that, Javier, that’s fucking perfect-”

You arched your back and let your eyes flutter shut, picturing this faceless stranger getting off on the sound of your moans, the wet sound of your fingers rutting in and out of your pussy. Frantic whimpers huffed from your throat as you chased this shimmering, golden orb of pleasure, “Yes, Javier, yes yes yes baby, I’m gonna cum- that’s it, Javier- oh my god yes, I’m fucking cumming-”

Your words caught in your throat. The strumming of your touch on your clit, your fingers inside you, the stranger stroking himself, it all tightened and lifted you. The swell of an orgasm overtook your body and crashed down on you. You released a shattered moan as your pussy fluttered around your fingers.

When you picked up the phone, your breath was ragged, chest heaving, “Did you get that, handsome?”

He was panting, too, “So fucking hot.”

“Did you cum for me?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I did.”

The flick of a lighter on the tip of a cigarette.

You giggled, “I wish I could have heard it.”

“Is that right?” he rumbled, taking a drag of his smoke.

“Yeah. I think it’s sexy,” you admitted, then added, “Maybe next time.”

“When can I talk to you next?”

You gave him your schedule. It became a weekly occurrence, these calls with Javi, which you eventually were given permission to call him. He was your favorite caller.

With most of your callers, there was an expectation that you would morph yourself into their fantasies. Which is fine. It’s something you enjoyed about your work as a phone sex operator. But there was something so freeing about your calls with Javi, how he wanted you to be yourself. Your real self turned him on more than any of the bullshit.

He never asked for your real name, although you could tell he wanted to know it. Every time he called you Bunny, it left his lips with a kind of disdain. Like he couldn’t stand you pretending to be someone he knew you weren’t. He opted to use sweetheart or baby instead, which you liked.

Javier was a loyal customer for two more years, until you were hired as a professor at The University of Texas San Antonio and finally had the financial freedom to quit your side gig as a phone sex operator. Truth be told, you grew quite attached to him. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him it was your last call when it happened. Goodbyes have never been your strong suit.

Little did you know, no goodbye was necessary. Because it wouldn’t be the last time you’d hear his voice.

#a.pedro pascal #c.javier pena #tv.narcos

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