Love Spell

Love Spell

(Sex pollen) After eating some mysterious berries, you and Joel spend a very memorable and unexpected Valentine’s Day together 🍓🫐🍑🍆💦. (5.4k)

tags- pwp oneshot, jackson joel, slight dubcon bc of sex pollen, unrealistic romanticized descriptions of arousal,masturbation, little bit of edging, gay berries, orgasm denial, oral (f receiving) unprotected piv, creampie, biting, slight overstim, reader has a little crush on tommy if you squint but don't we all

a/n- happy valentimes!💕💖 thank you @beefrobeefcal, @notjustjavierpena, @tightjeansjavi, for their help brainstorming @noxturnalpascal for her help as well, and also for betaing.

if you're into sex pollen fics, @toxicanonymity has a great one called Lazaretto !!

masterlist, ko-fi, fic notifs

It feels like it’s been hours that you’ve been here in this dilapidated cabin with Joel. You don’t wear a watch and you’re not exactly sure what time it is, but it’s definitely time to go back home. Joel’s lost in focus at the kitchen table where the old wood is chipped and splintering, tinkering with his radio. He always seems to get stuck with this one, constantly malfunctioning. 

You’re bored. You’ve done all you can do in this place. Scavenged for supplies, looked through old books, though most are too damaged to actually read, all waterlogged and pages torn. And it’s dark in here too, gloomy. The couch you’re sitting on has broken springs, it feels like it’s swallowing you whole as you listen to Joel quietly futz at the table, softly swearing to himself. Might be time to retire that radio, you think.  

Fuck it. You wobble as you struggle to get off the broken couch. Joel doesn’t even look up as you stroll through the small space, he just mumbles, “No wanderin’.”

“I’m not,” you tell him. Quietly, you push open the front door and steal a peek at Joel. He still doesn’t notice you, so you leave the cabin. 

Outside it’s brighter, but overcast. Less gloomy than in that dingy cabin, though. You take note of your surroundings before exploring, there’s a trail that leads away from the house that looks intriguing that you decide to explore. As you walk along the path, you try to keep an eye out for anything interesting. There’s not much this time of year when it’s so gray and monotonous. The sky and the weather’s the same every day. Cold and cloudy. The snow has melted and frozen again, it’s icy and muddy now, not fresh and sparkly like it was before. And there’s no animals, no chipmunks or birds to watch. 

Something colorful catches your eye as you travel the path. It’s a bush, flowering and budding with fruit. They appear to be little berries, ranging in color from royal indigo to fiery magenta, and shaped like little hearts. You crouch down to examine them closer, twisting and turning them in your gloved hand. 

God, how you’ve missed fruit this winter. You’ve missed the cherries and apricots and sometimes peaches that grow in and around Jackson in the summertime. You’d eat them plain or incorporate them into pastries, sometimes mix them into your salads. These berries are such a fortuitous find. You shrug your backpack off your shoulders and scrounge around for a little cloth sack you keep for opportune moments like these, then pick off the little heart shaped berries and drop them into your sack. 

Something nudges your back. When you turn around, Joel’s there wearing a frown. “What’d I say about wanderin’?”

“I didn’t go far.”

“You weren’t supposed to go anywhere,” Joel chides. “What’s in your hand?”

You stand up to give him a closer look at the berries. “Aren’t they neat?”

Joel squints and his eyebrows knit together. “What are they?” You shrug in response. “You don’t know?”

“No,” you reply. You can already feel that was the wrong answer.

Joel’s a lot of things, but a botanist is not one of them. Still, he knows a few basic rules about plants. Leaves of three, leave them be. Don’t touch or eat any suspicious berries. That’s pretty much never a smart idea. Joel rolls his eyes before you can continue. “Well don’t touch ‘em then,” he gruffs.

“But I was gonna–”

“Don’t care. Leave ‘em be,” he interrupts. “We’re leavin’.” 

Joel turns around to follow the path back to the cabin, and for a moment you consider leaving the berries but you decide against it. Fuck it. Sweets are already hard to come by, especially right now. You drop a few more berries into your sack, place it neatly into your pack, then jog to meet Joel. 

-

Joel always walks you to your home after patrol shifts, but today it’s not necessary. You lie about stopping at the trading post instead. You can’t tell him the truth, which is that you're really stopping at the library to check out a couple of books about the flora in Wyoming. 

This is what you were trying to tell Joel. You’re not an idiot, you weren’t just gonna eat the berries willy nilly. You were gonna be responsible and look up information about these berries first, obviously. And if they happen to be poisonous, you’ll throw them out. No big deal. You just don't need Joel bitching in your ear the whole time.

But you don’t get a crystal-clear answer. You’ve got three books open at your kitchen table as you flip through their pages with one hand, holding a berry with your other hand. You’ve seen a couple berries in these books that look similar to your heart-shaped mystery berries, but not quite the same. Nothing is indicating that they’re poisonous, though. 

Still, these berries are odd and nothing like you’ve ever seen before. The colors are so very vibrant and they smell sickly, almost cloyingly sweet. The juice of the berry makes your fingertips tingle, similar to how it feels to touch a chili pepper but not quite painful the way capsaicin is. 

You’re achingly curious about the way they taste. Your investigation about the berries was inconclusive, but they’re probably fine, right? You could just taste the juice that’s on your fingertips. It’s not that much. Worst case scenario, it tastes bad. Maybe makes your stomach churn. A little berry couldn't possibly hurt you.

You bring your finger to your lips and taste the juice with the tip of your tongue. Despite the almost saccharine smell, it tastes rather tart. Almost bitter, even. Not quite something you’d want to put into a pastry, but perhaps you could just candy the berries and enjoy them that way. So that’s exactly what you do, first making a simple syrup on your stove to coat the berries in, then rolling them in granulated sugar. They’re beautiful, heart-shaped little berries that now sparkle with the sugar coating, perfect for Valentine’s Day. 

You sigh sadly. That’s today. You wish you could share these berries with someone. Joel’s the first person who comes to mind, but that’s a bad idea. He’d say something like ‘I ain’t your fuckin’ valentine’ and then probably scold you for disobeying him by taking the berries he told you to leave alone. So yeah, fuck that. 

Tommy, Joel’s brother, however…

Tommy and his major sweet tooth would be much more appreciative of your candied berries. It’s one of his biggest vices, that sweet tooth of his. You could drop some of these berries off to Tommy real quick tonight. He’s all alone with his baby, you saw on the schedule earlier that Maria’s on evening patrol shift tonight. Yeah, you’ll do that. You won’t stay for long, just a quick hi and bye visit. 

You line a little basket with some scrap fabric you have, it’s a cute red and white gingham pattern with little hearts where the stripes meet, very fitting for the occasion. You place your sugared berries in the basket and fold the fabric over top of them before pulling on your jacket and heading to Tommy’s house. 

Once you’re at Tommy’s porch, you knock on the front door. You can hear heavy footsteps approaching and when the door swings open, you’re greeted by Joel. “Oh,” you say, “You’re not Tommy.” 

“No I’m not. What do you want?”

You show Joel your little Valentine’s Day basket. “To give these to Tommy,” you reply. 

Joel looks judgmental as he raises his eyebrows in amusement. “I’m sure he’ll think that’s awfully cute, but he’s married, you know. Got his valentine already.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh shut up, Joel,” you reply. “It’s harmless.”

“Oh, sure,” he drawls sarcastically, “What’d you get him anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you mock. 

Joel shakes his head. “Well Tommy’s not here, you know. He’s out with Maria. Didn’t want his valentine to be all alone tonight.”

“That’s sweet of him,” you say. “So you’re babysitting?”

“Mhm,” Joel hums as he nods his head. As if on cue, you and Joel hear the baby begin to fuss in the distance. “Speak of the devil,” Joel mutters. He’s off to go soothe the baby back to sleep but he lets you inside first, probably to drop off your gift and go. You place the little basket on the coffee table in the living room, first stealing and eating one of the candied berries you’ve gifted to Tommy. It’s tasty, you've achieved the perfect balance between sweet and tart in your treat. One more won’t hurt, Tommy won’t know. 

As you swallow the second berry, you take note of the way the fruit make you feel. Tingly on your tongue, just like how the juice felt on your fingers earlier. Only this time, the sensation is more intense. You can feel the sensation in the back of your throat, your stomach, too. It’s not unpleasant, just…interesting. Sort of ticklish, almost. 

When Joel’s put the baby back to sleep, he closes the door quietly and tiptoes back to the living room. “Do you want any help tonight?” you offer.

“Nah, it’s okay. Baby’s a good sleeper, not very fussy usually. It’ll be a boring night.”

“Ah, okay. No valentine to keep you company?”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, god no,” he says as he bends over, placing a log into the fireplace which makes you wonder. It’s pretty warm in here, you think. You’d let the fire die down if you were the one staying here all night. But maybe Joel’s chilly. “Sit down,” he tells you. “Can I get you some water or somethin’?”

“Oh, sure,” you answer. You’re kind of surprised at the offer. You would’ve expected for Joel to tell you to beat it after his very transparently negative reaction to the possibility of having a valentine. Maybe he does want company, just not of the valentine variety. Joel hands you a glass of water and sits next to you on the couch. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says. “What about you, no valentine of your own?”

“No,” you sigh sadly, taking a sip of water. 

“S’a shame. You seem to like it,” Joel gestures to the basket on the coffee table. 

“Yeah,” you shrug off your jacket and toss it onto a nearby chair. God, it’s getting hot in here. Fucking sweltering. “I dunno. I like all holidays,” you explain. “What about you, what do you think about Valentine’s Day?”

“S’bullshit.”

“Bullshit?”

“Yeah, total bullshit,” Joel explains. “Before the outbreak, it was such a stupid corporate holiday. Made people feel bad for being single…” Joel’s voice begins to fade out in your mind as he starts to go on a tangent. You’re having trouble focusing. You have your elbow sitting on top of the couch, resting your head against your fist as you stare at Joel. He’s not boring you or anything like that but gosh, it’s so fucking hot. Your skin is starting to feel damp as you begin to sweat. You wipe your forehead and stare at Joel as he rambles on. He doesn’t admit this to you and not to himself either, but Joel does sort of like Valentine’s Day. Or he did, at one point. Maybe even still does, just a tiny bit. But again, not that he’d ever admit that. When Joel was a freshman in high school years and years ago, he had saved his money to buy a heart shaped pendant for a girl he’d asked to the Valentine’s Day dance. She stood him up and it soured the holiday for him permanently, the poor guy.

“...all about sellin’ greeting cards chocolates and ugly-ass heart-shaped jewelry…” 

You nod as he speaks, but you’re not really listening. Is he sweating too? He has to be, right? Sweat. Oh god, his sweat. Why are you thinking about Joel sweating? Why are you thinking about his hair, curly and damp, sticking to his forehead? Beads of sweat trailing down that gorgeous face of his, the sharp slope of his nose, trailing down his jaw, pooling in that V-shape at the bottom of his neck. And then you’re thinking of where his neck meets his shoulders, how big and broad they are. Your eyes are trailing lower, down his waist and where his soft, pillowy tummy protrudes in his shirt slightly. And his thighs are so thick, framing his bulge just so. Joel’s voice fades out and oh god, you're imagining how firm and heavy his package would be, how it’d feel in your hands and–

Joel’s quiet. He’s staring at you expectantly, and you blink when you realize he’s waiting for you to say something, but you’ve not been paying attention to a single word out of his mouth for the last five minutes. “I uhhhh,” you hum, trying to think of something to say. “I thought Valentine’s Day was about celebrating Saint Valentine initially, right?”

“Oh yeah, probably, and Christmas was about Jesus before Coke got ahold of Saint Nick…” Joel doesn’t know. He goes on to say that some company called Hallmark took the reins and used the holiday to sell greeting cards. But the fire is burning brightly and it’s making your face feel hot and sticky. You’re feeling hot and sticky elsewhere too, as you become intensely mindful of how your body is starting to feel. You’re almost sizzlingly hot and there’s a new feeling, a dull ache in your core that's getting increasingly sharper as time goes on. Your brain is feeling sort of fuzzy, finding it hard to focus on anything but Joel and his body and his body on yours and how he’d taste and feel inside you and–

“Fuckin’ hate Valentine’s Day.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you mumble, “Me too, me too.”

“What?” Joel tilts his head in confusion. “You just said you liked it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you nod.

Joel squints at you as he realizes something went wrong. “You doin’ okay?” he asks, but you don’t reply. Your eyes are fluttering shut as you continue nodding your head slowly. “Hey, look at me,” Joel takes your chin gently, holding it between his thumb and his forefinger. He presses the back of his hand against your forehead, where it feels almost cool against your skin. He holds both of your cheeks in his hands after that, his touch innocent yet it sets your skin ablaze. He stares at you with those sparkly, seductive, deep chestnut eyes of his. “You feel warm.”

“Don’t you?”

“Mmm…not particularly,” Joel says softly. “Tommy’s got them single pane windows and thin walls, so it’s chilly. I’d reckon you’re running a fever. Why don’t we take this off?” Joel tugs at your sweater.

You nod silently. You’re so out of it. It’s no longer discomfort you’re feeling, it’s turning painful at this point. Your core is fucking throbbing, aching, now. Joel’s fingertips skate along your shoulders when he pulls down your cardigan, leaving you in just a thin tank top. 

“Seems like this bug came out of nowhere. S’it your stomach?”

You shake your head no, keeping your eyes closed. Looking at Joel makes whatever’s going on with you worse, somehow. Yet, even with your eyes shut, you continue to see him in your mind. You can fucking smell him. 

“Here, drink your water,” Joel holds the back of your head gently and places your glass of water at your lips, encouraging you to take a couple sips. “Think you’re sick, but I can’t take you home right now. Why don’t we–”

You pull away from Joel and use all of your energy to sprint to the bathroom, where you shut and lock the door and splash your face with some cold water. It does nothing. 

You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you know what you need right now. You’re not particularly proud of yourself for this, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. They stick to your sweaty skin, the denim is damp. When you kick them off your feet you lean against the door and spread your legs, shoving your hand down the front of your panties. Your pussy is fucking dripping as your circle your clit urgently, whimpering and crying softly.

To say Joel is concerned would be an understatement. You’re in the bathroom for 15 minutes as he waits on the couch, wondering what the hell is going on with you. He knows whatever’s wrong, you need privacy, but he can’t help himself. He paces quickly to the bathroom where he hears your muffled whines. What the fuck? Joel raps against the door quietly. “Hon? Open up. Tell me what’s goin’ on,” He backs away from the door when he feels you thump against it and yelp. He didn’t mean to startle you. “Open the door,” he says. 

“I can’t, Joel,” you sob. 

“Yes you can. Just open,” Joel waits a moment for you to open the door, but you don’t. “It’s gonna be okay. Just open the door for me.”

Fuck. Maybe…maybe you should just open it. It’s a compromising position you’re in but this is an emergency. And Joel’s seen you in intimate and compromising positions before, but those are stories for another time. Tentatively, you unlock and open the door. Joel wears a worried expression as he walks in, taking note of your appearance. Your hair messy, your skin sweaty. “It hurts, Joel,” you cry.

“What hurts?” Joel asks as he places his hands on your shoulders. “Where does it hurt? Let me see.” Your hand travels lower, where you press it against your center and bite down on a groan. Jesus Christ, you’ve never been this sensitive in your life. Joel notices then that your panties are damp, your fingers are shiny. He realizes you’re aroused, and deeply so, by the looks of it. But he’s thinking that this isn’t normal. Arousal can be intense, but not like this. Not so urgently, not to the point of true physical pain. Something’s not right here.  “Did you take something?” 

“No, no,” you breathe. 

“What the hell’d you get yourself into? You eat something?” 

Fuck. Your mouth drops open as you realize, it’s probably those berries. Oh god, he’s gonna be pissed. You nod quietly. 

“What’d you eat?”

“...berries,” you say, your voice barely audible. 

“Speak up,” Joel motions to his right ear where he’s lost his hearing. You say it again, whispering into his left ear. Berries. 

“Berries?” Joel’s confused. And then he remembers what happened earlier, when he was on patrol with you. Anger and frustration begins to bubble up inside of him. “The berries you didn’t know anything about?” Your lips are pursed in a straight line, a very visual admission of your guilt. “Those berries I specifically told you not to touch?” You nod. Fuuuuuck. “I’ll be goddamned,” Joel scoffs. He’s laughing dryly, but nothing about this is humorous. 

“I tried to make it go away but I can't,” you whine. “Fuck, it hurts, Joel.”

“Yeah, I'm sure it does.”

“Please touch me,” you plead, reaching for Joel’s face and cupping his jaw in your hands, “I need to—I don’t know, I think I need you to fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg urgently, your voice shaky. 

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do need that,” Joel taunts. He’s in disbelief. If what he thinks is happening is in fact happening, there’s not enough time to explain it to you. It’s fucking real. He can’t believe it’s fucking real.

 Some time ago, there was a community baking potluck sort of thing happening. Joel was standing in a corner, minding his business and eating a jelly pastry when a man approached him and said, “Hope you’re not eating the gay berries.”

Joel swallowed his bite. “Beg your pardon?” he said, annoyed. 

The man smirked and went on to explain a rumor that a FEDRA facility in Wyoming had genetically modified a berry plant to potentially use in a cure for cordyceps, but scrapped the idea when it had a fatal side effect they refused to disclose. This was largely forgotten by most people. 

Years later, a group of raiders happened upon the FEDRA facility which had since been abandoned. The raiders, likely not knowing that the berries were fatal, stashed them and ate them some distance away from the plant, closer to Jackson. At some point after eating the berries, the raiders, who were all men, became intensely sexually aroused, to the point of physical pain. Some tried masturbating to expel the feeling, but that proved to be ineffective. They knew what they needed to do but refused to give into their sexual instincts and died in about 24 hours, likely of heart attacks. Those that made love to each other lived to tell the tale, and thus the gay berries rumor was started. 

-

“You ate an aphrodisiac, hon.”

 “What?”

 “An aphrodisiac. Increases the libido. Which–” Joel reaches for your hand, and you whine as he pulls it away from your core.  He brings your glistening fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth, “Would explain this.” He hums softly as he tastes your arousal. Joel loves the taste of a woman’s wetness but this is different. You’re addictively sweet, something he’s never experienced before. Must be the berries.

“Please touch me,” you whine, “Please, please, please."

“Yeah, I will,” murmurs. Joel pulls off your tank top and slides your soaked panties down your legs, tossing them away. Joel lifts you by your ass and sits you on the sink, spreading your legs wide and slotting himself between them. He places one of his hands on the wall above you, the other one at your core, his fingers tracing along your dripping seam. “How’s this feel?” he asks. You’re moaning with what sounds like pleasure, but he needs a better answer. “Words.”

“Good,” you breathe, “S-sensitive. Need more.”

If the rumors are true, and–based on your current state–he’s betting they are, you have plenty of time before the side effects turn fatal. Knowing his touch isn’t hurting you, just that it seems to tease you, Joel decides he can let you deal with the consequences of your insubordination for a moment. He sinks to his knees and wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your pussy close to his face. His hot breath on your cunt tickles and teases you. He pulls back a little to kiss your inner thighs, sucking and biting your skin gently. He can smell you and your musk, just as sweet as you taste.

You reach for his hair, carding your fingers through his scalp. You allow him to kiss your skin a little bit longer, but he takes advantage of the power he holds and teases you seemingly without end. You tug his hair impatiently, “Touch me.”

Joel pulls back and glares at you. “Do you really think you get to make demands of me right now?”

You scramble forward, reaching for him again. “Need you, I need you right now.”

Joel silently glares at you as he obliges to your request. If the situation weren’t as dire as it is, he wouldn’t be letting you boss him around like this. That’s fine. He’ll touch you if that’s what you want. Doesn’t mean he’ll make you come yet. Consequences. 

He moves closer to you, inhaling your sweet scent deeply before he first tastes you, pressing a single, sloppy kiss against your cunt. He glares at you intensely as he kisses your pussy, using his eyes to say what his mouth cannot. When he finally tastes you, really tastes you, his eyes flutter shut. He moans deeply as he drags his tongue up and down your folds, savoring just how heavenly you taste.

He pulls away from you momentarily to admire you. You’re glistening wet, your lips puffy and swollen, skin darkened. You poor thing. He watches you in awe as he spits on your pussy, then slides his thumb up and down your dripping heat. You writhe with his touch, hips rolling and back arching as you whine for more. Joel delivers, spreading your lips wide so his tongue can tease your entrance before diving in, exploring your sex. 

“Ohh, fuck,” Joel whispers in admiration. His mustache prickles against your skin, his beard scratches your thighs. He laps at you, eats you like he’s starved, his eyes closed shut in ecstasy. The flesh of your thighs billows beneath the firm, bruising pressure of his fingertips digging into you, his nose is buried in the coarse curls that cover your mound. “Taste so fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” he praises. Your skin, your scent, your arousal, your heat. He’s addicted to your pleasure. He could stay here between your thighs for hours if the situation allowed it.

And it feels good, his tongue feels incredible as it soothes the aching in your core. But you’ve still not finished. Joel’s been savoring you for what feels like hours and any other time you’d be savoring this too, but you’re impatient, urgently needing your release. “Make me come,” you demand, “I need more, make me–”

“Am I hurting you?” he asks. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no,” you breathe. “It’s better, it feels better.” 

“Then you can wait,” he says. 

“Joel–”

“Quiet,” he interrupts. “If you’d have listened to me you wouldn’t be in this mess,” You groan in frustration, grinding yourself against his nose, seeking out release yourself. He bites your thigh and holds you tighter. “Nuh-uh, you knock that off. You’re not usin’ me like that.”

“Please, please, Joel.”

“You can beg me all you want. No,” he grumbles. “I’ll make it all better, you know that. But since I’m bailin’ you out, we’re doin’ this my way.”

The affirmation that he will in fact take care of you soothes you, but you wonder what exactly ‘his way’ means. It’s not long before you find out, when he’s repeating the same motions he was making before. Eating your pussy for his pleasure, alternating between lapping at your velvety folds and dipping his tongue into your center. Taking advantage of the oh-so-sweet side effects that these berries have on you.

Joel surprises you when he finally, finally pays attention to your poor, neglected face. “Oh my god, right there, right there,” you whimper. It’s almost instantaneous when you feel that heat in your thighs and your gut, that closeness you’ve been craving so desperately. Under Joel’s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone…

And he pulls away. You cry out, your face is hot and tears of frustration are beginning to well in your eyes. Joel wipes them away. “Breathe,” he whispers. “I always deliver. You’ll be fine.”

Joel helps you off of the sink, steadying you as your legs wobble. He spins you around so you’re facing the mirror and you can’t help but stare at each other’s reflection. Joel behind you, his face soaked with your slick and his still-clothed torso rising and falling steadily. You in front of him, stripped bare and your face wrecked, your eyes wide and pleading. The quiet clanging sound as he unbuckles his belt sends a shiver down your spine, and his hands feel so big and warm on your hips when he finally pulls your ass toward his crotch. The tip of his cock taps against your ass a couple of times as he uses one of his hands to push your chest lower, causing you to arch your back for him. Perfect. 

You clench around nothing as Joel notches his tip at your entrance, pushing into you slowly. “Christ–squeezin’ me too tight,” he hisses through his teeth. “Easy, sweetheart. You gotta let me in. Relax.” 

You push out a deep breath, allowing Joel to enter you fully. The way his cock feels inside you is incredible, his length filling you whole and stretching you deliciously. It’s just what you’ve needed. You’re impatient as you back your ass into him, but he doesn’t yet fuck you. He knows you need a moment to get used to him. 

“Unbelievable,” he whispers to himself with a tight shake of his head. Still can’t believe any of this. He was right about Valentine’s Day and he was right about those fucking berries. 

“What?” you ask. 

He pulls out of you and plunges back in with a grunt, “Nothin’,” he says. “Gonna fuck ya now.”

You moan loudly at the action and Joel scrambles to hold his palm over your mouth, keeping your sounds muffled. You watch his face in the mirror, how his brows knit together in focus and pleasure. His lips are parted and his tongue peeks between them slightly. He grunts and groans softly behind you as he removes his hand from your mouth, both of his now holding your waist as he finds his pacing. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan. 

“I know, I know,” he murmurs. “You’re takin’ me so good. So fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

Joel fucks you steadily, a hard and fast pace to meet your needs. You back your hips against him to meet his thrusts. You take him, all of him, lost in the way he makes you feel. In truth, you’ve needed him for so long, long before the incident tonight. It makes everything all the more satisfying. 

Joel’s thighs smack against your ass, his heavy balls smacking against your clit, his belt buckle dragging rhythmically against the floor with his pants around his ankles. “So pretty with my cock in ya,” he groans, “You know that?”

Moans of a pleasure spill from your lips like honey as you’re struggling to keep quiet. Joel is too. You watch him in the mirror, how he bites down on a whine now and then. His graying curls are damp and sticking to his forehead, just how you imagined they’d look. You can feel his heavy breaths, sharp and unsteady. You adjust yourself slightly against Joel and bring his hand to your clit, encouraging him to massage the sensitive bud. “S’whatcha need, hm?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “Please.”

Joel’s fingers circle your clit steadily as he hits that sweet spot deep inside you. It is just what you needed. That lost sensation from before is back as heat behind to coil in your gut. When your moans become quicker and more frantic, your eyes flutter shut. “Y’gonna come for me?”

“Mhm,” you whimper. “I’m so close.”

“I’ll give you what you need, baby,” he coos. Joel reaches for your jaw and has you look up in the mirror at his reflection. “Right here. Eyes open. You keep lookin’ at me when you come on my cock. I wanna watch you.” 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Joel,” you gasp, feeling your walls begin to pulse and squeeze him as Joel massages your clit. “Right there, right there, fuck.”

“Yeah go on, let go,” he encourages, “Let go f’me. That’s it, sweetheart.”

Keeping your eyes on him like he instructed, you fall apart on his cock. Your orgasm bubbles over and courses through your body powerfully, like none you’d ever experienced before. It’s deep and satisfying, instantly relieving any and all discomfort in your body. 

“That’s it, good girl,” Joel praises as he fucks you, chasing his own release. The sensation becomes overwhelmingly intense. “Too much,” you whimper, “Joel, please come in me.”

 You’re a shaking and quivering mess. “I know, you’re okay, I know,” he rasps, his thrusts becoming deeper and frenzied.  “Quit’ squirmin’, let me fill you up. I’ll take care of– ohh,” Joel spills into you then, painting your insides with his hot spend. He pulls you flush against his chest, biting into your neck softly as he climaxes, breathing heavily and grunting quietly. His teeth bite softly into your shoulder and then he soothes the marks left behind with his tongue. 

Joel pulls out of you, both of you groaning at the loss. His come is warm and sticky as it drips from your sex and down your thighs. He turns you around, quickly searching your body for any signs that something’s still wrong. “Is it better?”  

Yes. All you can do is nod as tears of relief or overwhelm or something else begin to spill from your eyes, and Joel wipes them once more. “You’re okay,” he coos. “You’re gonna listen to me from now on, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” you reach forward and hug him tightly.

Joel hugs you back, stroking your skin. “Yeah, you’re okay, sweetheart.”

As you begin to regain your senses, that fuzzy, awful, discombobulated feeling now gone from your body, you begin to wonder: how did he know? 

“Joel?” you ask, “How did you know?”

“So they call ‘em the gay berries,” Joel begins... 

Bath & Body Works

Mall Rats 2! Can be read alone. But if you want-- read Mall Rats 1 here

Summary: You'll drag Joel kicking and screaming into your bubble bath if it's the last thing you do.

A/N: I am stoked about this one!

Warnings: smut, fingering, handjobs, oral sex (f receiving), rubber ducky, joel is extra cranky, dirty talk, forced bubble bath with a grumpy old man, soapy tiddies, rubber duckies, country apple scented bubble baths

WC: 3.2k

You’re going through your bag of goodies from your first trip to the mall with Joel. You’ve got your undies and bras from Victoria’s Secret, along with some candles and stuff from Bath and Body Works. 

You would have picked out more, but Joel was throwing a bitch fit about how you were taking too long to pick out body sprays and whatnot.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…just fuckin’ pick one already. They all smell like chemicals and girl. I’m gettin’ a migraine.”

“From all the smells?”

“No. You.” You ignored him and searched for body wash to match your body sprays and lotions. “C’mon. Shake a leg, sweetheart.”

“I need body wash. I can’t find it.”

“Here” Joel grabbed a random ass bottle, shoved it in your bag, wrapped his hand around your forearm and dragged your ass out of Bath and Body Works. “It’s all the same shit anyway.”

Now you’re pulling out that random ass bottle of what Joel had deemed as the same shit as body wash. And it’s not the same shit. At all. 

Relaxing Bath Bubbles

Country Apple 

Awh, shit. Guess you’re about to give Joel another migraine. 

You walk over to his house and knock on his door, your backpack full of your Bath and Body Works goodies. Rubber duckies too. You snagged them from a broken claw machine in the mall. 

Knock knock knock knock knock

“Joel, open up.”

You knock some more. Joel opens the door clad in nothing but plaid boxers, his eyes squinting and his hair wild. “The fuck do you want?”

“Need to use your bathroom,” you say. “Now. It’s an emergency.”

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Why? You know what, I don’t wanna know. Just make it quick.”

He’s perplexed, but he leads you to his ensuite bathroom anyway. He says Ellie’s bathroom downstairs is heinous. You enter the bathroom and shut the door, and Joel lays on his bed as he scribbles in his book of crossword puzzles.

The first thing you notice about Joel’s bathroom is how nice it is. Spacious, a deep and wide circular inset bathtub. How he scored this, you don’t know. You strip, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor then fill up the tub with hot water. You toss your duckies in the water, dump some Country Apple bubble bath in the tub and watch the bubbles emerge, then light your Bath and Body Works candles and turn out the lights. 

The water is soothing and the bubbles smell nice. You lean back in the tub and relax, watching your little rubber duckies float through the bubbles.

Only when half an hour goes by does Joel realize something’s up. He’s been stuck on his puzzle for the last ten minutes and completely forgot that you’re in the bathroom. He shuts his crossword puzzle book in frustration, sets it on his nightstand and turns out the light in his room. 

The flicker of your candles through the cracks of the bathroom door catches his eye. Confused, he decides to investigate. He’s about to knock on the door when he hears a splash. 

Joel doesn’t have time for this. He barges in to find you soaking in his tub, surrounded by candles and rubber ducks. He looks like he’s gonna have a conniption fit.

“Oh, finally,” you say excitedly. “Been waiting for you.”

Irritated doesn’t even begin to describe the expression on Joel’s face at how shockingly cavalier you are about bathing in his tub. “The fuck are you doing in here?”

“Using your bathroom.” 

“You said it was an emergency.”

“Correct,” you reach for the bottle of apple scented bubble bath and toss it to Joel. “Emergency indeed.”

“We need to go over what constitutes an emergency, then. Because this shit is not an emergency. Not in the slightest.”

“It is, actually,” you counter. “That’s bubble bath. Not body wash. They are not the same.”

 Joel looks at you and he’s not sure which of you has a screw loose, but clearly something’s not right here. You fill one of your rubber duckies with water and squirt him on his tummy “The fuck is the matter with you?” he snaps. Joel snatches the toy from your hand and tosses it behind you, so you fill another ducky with water and squirt him again. “Get your ass out of my tub and go home.” 

“Take it up with Tommy. My tub’s broken. He said he’d fix it but he never did. He said to use yours.”

“Tommy did not say that.” 

“You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

“You know what? M’not doing this. Out. Now,” Joel takes a step forward and reaches his arm through the bathwater to find the drain stopper. You grab hold of his arm, biting your bottom lip as you smile mischievously. Joel glares at you. “Don’t.”

You squeeze his forearm tighter and pull with all of your might. Joel tumbles forward into the bath, water splashes over the edge of the tub and floods the floor below. Joel emerges from the water gasping. “God bless it,”  and pushes his hair out of his face, then wipes his eyes and turns to you. The look on his face pierces daggers right through you. 

In a ballsy move, before he can stand up and step out of the tub, you slide over and sit your ass on his lap. You lean back to force him against the edge of the tub. “That’s better,” you say. “Need you to be my pillow. Your tub’s uncomfortable as fuck.”

“Not gonna be your anything. Get the fuck out of my tub or so help me god I will–”

“Joel, shut up. I’m trying to relax. And you should too, because you’re kind of a crankerpuss.”

Joel scowls. “Do not call me that.” 

“Well, you’re being very hostile right now.”

Oh, he’ll show you hostile alright. You don’t know the first thing about hostility. Joel’s about to pick you up and throw your ass out of the–

Nope. Bad idea. 

It’ll make an even bigger mess on the floor. You’re not worth the water damage. And then you’ll slip and fall, crack your skull open and there’ll be blood everywhere. Hiding the body will be Joel’s next step and he’s not in the mood for that. And of course, inevitably, you’ll knock over one of your candles and set Joel’s bathroom ablaze. 

So Joel shimmies off his boxers and tosses them over the edge of the tub. They land with a wet plop. He leans back with you still on his lap, accepting his fate as your human pillow. 

“Isn’t this nice?” you ask sweetly.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Shut up.”

So you quiet down and settle against Joel’s torso as best you can. Except as the minutes pass, he still won’t relax. He’s stiff as a board. His hands are in fists, resting on either side of his thighs. He’s practicing his deep breaths and going over the serenity prayer in his head. Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

“You seem tense,” 

“Mm,” Joel says. “Wonder why. What a mystery this is. I’m stumped, truly.”

“You tend to run hot. You know. Short fuse,” 

“You tend to drive me fuckin’ nuts,” he counters. You scoop up some bubbles in your hand, and Joel grabs your wrist and shoves it back underwater. “Knock it off. S’not playtime.”

You turn so you’re facing Joel and straddled on his thighs. You lift up on your knees, reaching behind Joel to grab a couple of towels. You drive him nuts, but at least he’s getting a nice view of your soapy tits. Pros and cons. 

You fold the towel and set it behind Joel to support and cushion his neck. “Is this nicer?” you ask. 

“It’d be nice if you weren’t here. See enough of ya already.”

“Get used to it,” you reply. “Got a whole lotta mall left to explore.”

“Don’t remind me.”

You don’t bother responding. Instead, you reach for a rag and a bar of soap and begin to lather it. You lift Joel’s arm up and begin scrubbing his skin gently. 

“Quit it,” he snaps, yanking the rag from you. “Washed earlier.”

Your feelings are a little hurt and you frown. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“Don’t need you to be nice to me. Need you to get out of my house. Now finish your bath.”

You grab the bar of soap again, this time without the rag. You lather it between your hands and reach for Joel’s arm once more, this time putting more emphasis on massaging him and less on cleaning.

This, he seems more receptive to. He lets out a little sigh and his head falls back on the towel you folded for him. You massage down his arm, letting your fingers squeeze and work his biceps, then his forearm, the palm of his hand and even his fingers. Your hand accidentally nudges his half hard cock, but he doesn’t startle or move you away. 

You’re thinking about his cock. You haven’t really seen it, hardly felt it. In a seamless transition, your hand leaves Joel’s and you reach between your bodies to play with his member. He grows hard with your touch, you can feel it. In your palm, he’s thick, heavy, and long. You trace your finger over the prominent vein that climbs up his length. 

Joel sighs and reaches for your hand that’s working his shaft. “What are you doin’,” he sighs. 

“Rub-a-dub-dubbing you.”

You think your eyes deceive you as a flicker of a smirk graces Joel’s face. It’s gone in an instant, but you saw it. You’ll have to alert the media. 

“Charming,” he mumbles. 

You continue massaging his member. You’re thankful that the bubble bath led you to this moment here with Joel, but disappointed that the bubbles are hindering your view. You slide your hand up and down, letting your thumb swipe over his swollen tip. 

“Feel good?” 

“S’good, honey. Yeah, so fuckin’ good. Keep it up.”

Joel’s leaning into it now. Melting like a candle. Eyes fluttered shut, lips slightly parted as a symphony of curses and pretty noises escape his mouth.

“Fuck, darlin’. Squeezin’ me s’good.”

 His chest is rising and falling unsteadily. The flickering candlelight bounces off of his skin and gives his face a warm glow. He’s got both hands on the globes of your ass cheeks, sliding over the expanse of skin. Up your waist and down your thighs, loving every inch of your body. 

You lean forward and hold onto his shoulder with your free hand while you stroke him with your other. You dip your head lower to kiss and nip at his jaw and neck. His skin is warm and fragrant like the bubble bath. 

One of Joel’s hands slither between your bodies and he cups your mound. His fingers reach lower to trace lazy circles into your clit. You pump him faster as he plays with you, soft breaths and groans falling from his lips. “Y’got it, sweetheart. Just like that. Just like–ohh, fffuck.”  He squeezes your ass tight as he finds his release, his body tensing and twitching under your touch. He lets out deep and guttural groans, music to your ears. 

He’s coming down from his high, still mindlessly tracing your pussy with his thick fingers. You’re watching as his breathing slows. He’s finally relaxed. And they said it couldn’t be done!

And just then, one of your little rubber duckies floats between you and Joel. The duck wears a mischievous smile. It’s like it’s thinking what you’re thinking. 

Subtly, oh so subtly, you reach for the ducky and squeeze it, then open your fist slightly and let it fill up. Joel’s eyes are still closed and he’s breathing peacefully as you hold the duck level with his face. You squeeze the ducky once more, and a thin stream of water squirts from the duck’s beak and onto Joel’s cheek. Got his ass. 

Joel opens his eyes slowly, his previously soft expression now harsh and irritated. Joel reaches for the duck. “You squirt me with that thing one more time…” he takes it from your hand, “Watch what happens.”

You bite back a smile. 

“Keep it up,” Joel growls. “Now sit back down and spread your legs. Water’s gettin’ cold.”

He’s got a soft spot for you, believe it or not. His brain is telling him to kick your country apple scented ass out the door, but his heart’s telling him to let you stay a while longer. He is a gentleman with principles, after all. A lady should always finish. 

“Wider,” he says. “Open up.”

He uses his strong, masculine hands to grip your thighs and spread them apart, but he doesn’t have to do anything. You oblige to his request immediately. He toys with your clit, circling and swirling his fingers over the sensitive bud before dipping his middle finger inside of you and chuckling. “Hmm,” he hums. “Selective hearing.” “What?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbles. “Just think it’s funny how ya only listen t’me when you’ve got my hand or my cock between your thighs.”

You answer him with a soft moan and scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he pumps his finger inside you, feeling how warm and wet you are. 

“So this is what it’s gonna take, hmm? To get you to be a good girl for me?”

“More,” you breathe. 

Joel inserts a second finger and you gasp. “Jesus, girl. M’gonna get carpal tunnel tryna get you to behave yourself.”

“Carpal what-el?”

“Don’t worry about it, pretty girl. S’nothin’.”

You whimper as his thumb swipes your clit and his fingers pump inside you. You hold his shoulders for stability as you grind your pelvis against his palm, rocking the water all over the place, over the tub. The waves bounce high and into Joel’s mouth, he’s annoyed as he spits out some bubbles. You may have overfilled the tub. 

“Y’need to sit still,” he says. “Makin’ a goddamn mess.”

“Sorry,” you rasp.

But the splashing continues. Joel gets an idea then. He pulls his hand away from your core. 

“No,” you whine. “Don’t stop, Joel, please–”

“Lookit that, usin’ your manners. Bein’ so nice,” Joel praises you. “You’re fine,” he coos softly. “Not goin’ anywhere. M’right here with you.”

Joel adjusts a few towels on the tile surrounding the tub, making a nice little bed for you. He lays you on the towel, watching as beads of water fall from your body and your legs dangle in the tub. He pulls you close, then licks one long stripe up your pussy.

“Yeah, that, keep doing that,” you beg.

“Not plannin’ on stoppin,” Joel chuckles, his low voice sending vibrations through your sex. “Gonna take my time with your sweet pussy.”

Joel does just that. He licks from bottom to top, top to bottom. He tastes every inch of you, from your slick folds to your clit and back down to your entrance. He flattens his tongue wide against you, lapping at your cunt and savoring the taste of your arousal. He loves the sinful, wet noises your pussy makes. 

You tug on Joel’s wet strands of salt and pepper hair, pulling him as close as you can get him. “I know, gorgeous. I got ya,” he whispers. 

Joel pushes two fingers inside you once more, this time curling them upward to find that sweet spot inside you. You kick your legs, splashing even more water than before. You’ve got an iron grip on his damp curls, twitching and shuddering with every flick of his tongue and sending water flying. 

This whole eating you out to keep you from flooding the bathroom thing didn’t go as planned. But Joel’s a trooper. He’ll soldier on and mop up your mess later. He firmly grips the area behind your knees, lifting your legs from the water and pushing them apart. They sit high at your hips, he has you in a vulnerable position. He devours you and holds you close with a certain tenderness, and you know you’re in good hands. 

“Mmmm,” you moan. “S’good, fuck.”

“Got a dirty mouth, hon. You know that?”

You do know that, but you can’t respond. The only thing you can do is whimper and make those sweet, sweet noises that Joel loves so much. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises, sweetheart.” he whispers as you squirm against him. He holds you tighter, keeping you still as he brings you to the edge. His fingers and tongue working relentlessly to make you dizzy.

“Gonna, fuck. M’gonna come, Joel. Please, please–” 

“Come on my tongue,” Joel tells you. “Let go f’me. Give me a good one, sweetheart. Wanna taste it. Wanna taste all of you.”

With his words and ministrations inside you, along with his tongue dancing on your clit, you dissolve under him. Pure pleasure courses through your veins, beginning deep in the pit of your stomach and washing over you, your torso and thighs. Joel’s name is the only word you know at this moment. You sing it like a hymn, worshiping the man who makes you see stars. 

Your head feels fuzzy. You’re hardly aware that Joel’s now kissing his way up your body, over your tummy and your ribcage. He kisses one of your breasts, then the other. He flicks his tongue over one nipple and lightly pinches and twists the other. “Didn’t get to give these tits of yours enough lovin’,” he mumbles. 

It’s touching. He’s such a good lover, but such a forgetful man. Guess what’s sitting right next to you.

Yup. Rubber ducky. 

Joel’s still kissing and massaging your tits, and you quietly reach for the duck. You squirt him right between the eyes. 

Joel snatches the toy from your hand. “Where do you keep finding these fuckin’ ducks?!”

You shrug and giggle, then Joel pulls away from you. He pulls the drain stopper, then dries you and himself off with fresh towels. “Alright,” he says. “You had your bath and then some. Get lost.”

You pout. “You’re not gonna walk me home? It’s late.”

“Nope.” Joel bites his cheek, knowing he’s not actually gonna kick you out to walk home alone. You’re making him soft, and he hates it. “Fine,” he concedes. “Get in bed.”

You giggle and make your way to his bed, watching Joel mop up your mess in the bathroom. He blows out the candles and returns to you. “M’way too fuckin’ nice to ya,” he grumbles. 

“Eh,” you shrug. “Could be nicer.”

Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed! Send me asks! Your interaction means the world and keeps me going!

Part 3

Follow @strang3stories and turn on tags to get notified of my fics only!

Halloween Special

Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.

Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas

A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️❤️ btw it is my birthday🎂🎉🥳i'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3

“Why do all of these women’s costumes look like they’re from Victoria’s Secret?”, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. You’ve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now you’re sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy. 

Halloween doesn’t make much sense post-apocalypse. If there’s any candy left, it’s all rotten. It’s not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The party’s tonight.

“Who knows,” Joel mumbles, “Just how it was.”

“Did you dress all slutty too?”

“‘Course I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.”

“Then here–”, you toss Joel a nurse costume, “Be a slutty nurse for the party.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. You’ve got girls’ and boys’ costumes sorted by size, and along with mens’ and women’s. “What are you gonna dress up as, then?”

“I dunno. Do I have to?”, Joel asks, “I don’t even wanna go.”

“Too bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. It’s mandatory.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What are you going as, then?” you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. “Knucklehead’, it reads. So fucking stupid. “Get it?”

“Ha-ha,” you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. “Do you want any help with those bags?” you ask. 

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.” 

“Will I see you tonight?”

“Depends. How slutty you dressin’?”  Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.

“You know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.”

“Mmm. Definitely stayin’ home, then. Get the door for me?” Joel asks as he’s standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands. 

“Sure,” you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea. 

–

You get to Maria and Tommy’s around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. There’s red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. “Hey you,” he says. “What do we have here?”

You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, “Shut up and quit smilin’,” before breaking into a fit of giggles. 

Tommy laughs too. “Joel?”

“Bingo,” you reply. You’re wearing Joel’s flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl. 

“Costume is spot on, ‘cept for one thing,” you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, “You’re much easier on the eyes than he is.”

“Oh, stop it,” you blush and smack his arm. “Speaking of, Joel here yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. He’s gonna hate your costume, darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ hate it.” 

“Good, that was the plan,” you smile mischievously. 

“I like how you roll, sister,” Tommy drawls. “An’ in fact…” Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his baby’s nursery. 

“What are we doing, Tommy?”

“Shh, be cool, be cool,” Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but he’s got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. “Now we’re cookin’,” he says. “Gotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.” 

 “Ahh,” you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. That’s good.

“And–” Tommy continues, “You gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?” 

“Sure,” you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you–”

“Oh, very close,” Tommy laughs, “Nah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what I’m sayin’?” you shake your head no. “That’s okay. M’gonna teach ya.”

Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, you’re both in a fit of giggles. “God, sweetheart, I love ya. Joel’s gonna shit a brick.” 

You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joel’s sitting. He’s at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. You’re still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Howdy, pardner.”

“Uh, hi,” Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way you’re both smiling, definitely causing trouble. “The hell are you two so happy about?”

“Nothin’.” you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Don’t pronounce the ‘ing’ at the end of those words. It’s ‘In’. Nothing, nothin’. Fucking, fuckin’. Something, somethin’. “Uh, Joel, what’s your costume?”

“What’s it look like? I’m a pirate,” he grumbles. He’s got an…interesting take on a pirate costume. He’s wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. You’re pretty sure there was a men’s pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier. 

Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. “Well, don’t you look cuter than a dimple on a bug’s ass.” 

“Did you just have a stroke?” Joel squints at you, “Wait a fuckin’ second–that’s my shirt.”

You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, “Well slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!”

Joel’s blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. You’ve got one less button closed than what he wears, and he’s fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. “Where did you even–never mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ain’t–”

“This ain’t funny,” you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly. 

Tommy’s giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. “Don’t encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?” Goddamn little brothers. 

“What, don’t y’all like my costume? I’m you.” 

“‘Course you are,” Joel grumbles. “Though a witch would be more fitting,” He looks at you closer, “What the hell is wrong with your hair?”

“I’m a silver fox just like you, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not call me that. I can’t even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.” He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy. 

“You,” a voice interrupts. It’s Maria, dressed as a black cat. She’s so cute. “You two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joel’s gonna wring her neck.”

Tommy shrugs. “It was her idea.” 

Maria doesn’t care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel. 

You make your way through the living room, check the porch. It’s only when you’re in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. “What in tarnation?” you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. “This bedroom ain’t big enough for the two of us.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take off your pants. Do it now,” he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joel’s - shirt. “Pants,” he scolds you, annoyed. “You keep my shirt on for this.” 

You quit unbuttoning the shirt, “Thought you don’t like my costume?”

“I don’t,” Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. He’s all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because you’re wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are what’s really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine. 

In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, “You’re hard as a match–wait,” you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, “Shit fire and save matches, you’re hard as a r–”

“Don’t have time for this,” Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. “You have no–” he kisses your other thigh, “Fuckin’ idea,” then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, “What you’re doin’ to me, wearin’ my shirt like that. M’gonna devour you, sweetheart.”

Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, “Fuck,” you moan, fingers carding through Joel’s hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you can’t stop. You struck gold. “Heaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!” 

Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. “You done yet?”

“Darn tootin’,” You get no reaction from Joel. “Yes...I’m done.” 

“So fuckin’ sick of you. S’not funny. I don’t talk like that.”

And he’s right back where he was. First he’s inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste.  He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.

You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.

“Good lord,” Joel whispers against you. He eats you like he’s starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. “Fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” Your skin, your musk, your arousal. He’s addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs. 

“Joel,” you cry, rocking your hips against his face. You’re moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.

He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.

“Yeah Joel, right there,” you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joel’s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone for him. “M’so close.”

“This ain’t about you,” he growls. “Y’got yer kicks already, didn’t you? Teasin’ me in your little getup. Pokin’ fun and bein’ mean t’me.” 

“No, Joel, I wasn’t–”

“I don’t care, sweetheart,” Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. “I don’t care. This ain’t about you. M’doin’ this f’me. Don’t you dare come.” 

But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just can’t help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and you’re limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.

When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he breathes.

“It was an accident,” you reply.

“Accident, my ass.” You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that you’re not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what you’re planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, you’re exhausting.

You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didn’t use his fingers on you. But you’re committed to what you have planned.

“Joel,” you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. “I have something to tell you.”

“What could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?” That devious smirk on your face…he knows what you’re about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, “For the love of god…Go on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.”

“YEEEE HAWWW!” you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The party’s loud, but not that loud. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “The fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like that…Christ almighty.”

He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. “My fuckin’ turn, now. Drivin’ me to drink,” He stuffs it into in your mouth, “Can you breathe?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.

He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he pants. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible.”

You can’t smile, can’t speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joel’s shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like you’re a painting, just for him.

“God,” Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.

Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.

He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. “Joel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.”

“Oh, yeah,” He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it, 

“You weren’t s’posed to take this out of your mouth,” he says, “Least you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?” he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. “You do that for me?”

You smile. If only you weren’t all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you don’t have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“You really didn’t like my costume?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. “Bless your heart.”

You tilt your head, confused, “What’s that one?”

 “What, Tommy didn’t teach you that one?” You mumble a no and Joel hums. “S’a classic.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Well, I’d tell you to ask Tommy but you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore,” Joel says. “Fuckin’ corrupted you. An’ it’s a shame, ‘cause I was startin’ to like you. God, he’s an asshole,” he complains, “And you are too, for that matter.”

You smile to yourself, then kiss Joel’s cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, “Your costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies. “Now get lost, you.”

When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. It’s Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, “What’d you teach her now?”

Tommy smirks. “Nothin’,” then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. “Yee-haw, cowboy.”

Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.

SCARY MOVIE (2000) dir. Keenen Ivory Wayans

Spencer's

Summary: You and Joel visit Spencer's. You snag some toys, then steal some batteries from Joel for those toys. He's not pleased.

Warnings: DRAMATIC!Joel, implied age gap, Joel is jealous of certain inanimate objects, Joel is winnie-the-poohing it, overstimulation, masturbation (m/f), general filth, unprotected piv, creampie, brat-taming (if you squint), spanking, use of sex toys, joel is pro-participation trophy, joel reads Savage Love, soft!dom joel, dom!joel, mall rats!joel

A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @papipascalispunk for editing and proofreading this story. I am so thankful for her help and lucky to know her 🩷

W/C: 4.3k

It’s patrol again. You’re in that old mall with Joel. And he’s quiet today, like he has been the past couple weeks. No shitty comments or dumb jokes. Hardly any of his usual grumbling, just quiet and stoic. He’s wearing a green flannel, sleeves rolled up. Beard recently trimmed, his hair a little less unkempt than usual. And he seems nervous, antsy, bouncing his foot as you both sit on a bench, taking a short break. 

You could help him relax. 

“Victoria’s Secret is back that way. Kinda wanna try on some more lingerie,” you suggest, hoping he’ll take the bait you’re offering.  

“Pass,” Joel says, “You know I don’t like that place.”

“You could watch. We had fun last time we did that, didn’t we?” you reach for Joel’s arm and try to pull him from his seat and toward that dreaded underwear store. He doesn’t budge. 

“Joel?” you ask, confused by his reluctance.

“I don’t know about all that, hon. Thinkin’ we should go to that bookstore, find some more books for the library back home,” Joel points toward a nearby Barnes & Noble, “Yeah?”

You shrug, “Sure, after.”

“After what?”

“This,” you lean toward Joel and grip onto the collar of his flannel, pushing it back to expose more of his neck. Pressing your lips to his throat, nipping and kissing the skin as your hand trails down his torso, fumbling with his belt. 

You’re not wasting time. 

“Oh,” Joel breathes shakily, “That.”

“Yeah,” you say with a satisfied smirk, “That.”

You nudge his head to the side with your nose and try to push him back into the bench, pushing his flannel further over his clavicle to expose more of his neck, but he stays firm. He grabs the hand fumbling with his belt and pulls it away. “I don’t think so,” he says. You pull away immediately and Joel looks at you with sympathy, concern. 

“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” you ask, feeling insecure, self-conscious all of the sudden.

“You didn’t do anything,” Joel says. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been with him, he knows you’re probably antsy for more because he is too. But he’s feeling apprehensive. Each time you’ve fucked, it’s been quick and dirty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. He’s not sure what exactly your history with other men is, but Joel fancies himself a gentleman and believes in the campsite rule. Believes that you deserve better than what he’s been giving you. Starting with, say, a bed. You’re exhausting, troublesome, and you’re like a tick the way you get under Joel’s skin, but you still deserve decency. 

Decency won’t stop him from fucking the living daylights out of you, though. He’ll just be a little more gentlemanly about it all, moving forward.  

Joel clears his throat, “You’re young, you know. And I–”.

“And you what?” your tone is snarky.

“Jesus Christ, motormouth,” Joel snaps, “Would you let me finish speaking before you start arguin’?”

You shrug but remain silent, motioning for him to continue. 

“I just think we should do things by the book from now on. Dinner, talking, that kinda stuff. You know, I just want things to be sort of…nice for you. I dunno the word exactly, just...nice, I guess.” You watch Joel blush as he struggles to spell it out.

“Do you mean romantic? Like a date?" Excitedly, you gasp, "Are you taking me to the Rainforest Cafe?”

Joel stares at you blankly before speaking. Rainforest Cafe is a no-go, you're guessing. “No. Not romantic. And not like a date. A date is for two people that actually like each other.” 

And just like that, the attitude is back. He just exudes charisma. 

You pout, “You don’t like me?”

“No, I don’t. I barely tolerate you. But, you know. I still wanna - want you - I want us to…I don’t know,” Joel groans. It’s entertaining, watching him try to spit it out. 

Awh. He barely tolerates you.

You smile, “I barely tolerate you, too.” But Joel won’t look at you, keeps his eyes focused ahead. Still nervous, he fidgets with his hands and continues bouncing his leg.

“Was thinkin’ tomorrow,” Joel mutters quietly, “Y’could come over. Could be…nice. Maybe. Probably not, ‘cause you’ll be there.”

“Yeah. Sounds nice. Maybe. Probably not. ‘Cause you’ll be there too,” you mock his low tone. 

Joel glares at you, “Seven. My place. Be on time.”

—

After your break, you explore the mall further. There’s a store called Spencer’s, which looks neat. Joel agrees, unaware of exactly the kind of store Spencer’s is, so you both go inside. There’s funny t-shirts, cool knick-knacks and tchotchkes. Joel is looking at various lava lamps as you make your way toward the back, and he follows you. 

Holy shit.

There’s all sorts of things on this back wall. Handcuffs, lingerie, lubricants, vibrators, dildos, costumes.

“Wow,” you say, “Looks like your kind of party, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Shut up.”

“This looks nice. Not romantic at all,” as you poke Joel with a vibrator. 

He flinches, “Get that shit offa’ me, freakazoid.”

“We could use it tomorrow. On our not-date,” you smirk.

“Don’t need it,” he huffs. 

“Wow. You seem confident about that,” you say. Joel shrugs, a look on his face you can’t quite read. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll take it for myself. You know, for alone time.”

His face falls immediately. Joel, prudish as he may seem, truly does not have an issue with masturbation. It’s natural, it’s human. But something about you doing it makes it a little… jealousy-inducing. The thought of you, one of those toys between your thighs, you making all sorts of pretty noises that he can’t hear; it’s just too much for him. “Yeah, knock yourself out,” he says sarcastically, “You’ll have a lot of fun with a battery-less vibrator.”

“You still have some, don’t you?”

Joel scoffs, “I do. But they’re mine, and I sure as shit ain’t sharin’ with you, ‘specially not for those things.” 

“Sharing is caring, you know.”

Joel rolls his eyes, “S’a bold assumption you’re making there. That I care about you.” 

Rude. 

You poke him with the vibrator again. “Quit that,” he grumbles, “Now stay here a minute. Gonna take a leak, I’ll be right back.” He drops his bag and heads for a private area nearby. You stare at his bag on the floor and wonder if he’s fucking with you, because he never goes anywhere without his bag. Better to be safe than sorry is what he always says. And you know he keeps batteries in that bag. 

Ah, fuck it. He won’t know. 

There’s a sign that says “buy two toys, get one free”, and you’re not one to pass up a good deal, even if that deal means nothing now being twenty-or-so years into a fungus apocalypse. So you stuff three toys in your bag, along with one of the lava lamps Joel was checking out. You rifle through Joel’s belongings and pull out a handful of batteries, then stuff those into your bag too. Six should do it, hopefully. After twenty years, a lot of them are duds. You’ll try the toys out tonight, then sneakily put the batteries back in Joel’s pack tomorrow night on your not-date. And Joel will be none the wiser. 

—-

Joel is livid. 

Someone called off patrol today, so he was volunteered by Tommy to fill in. He’d still be back in time for your not-date, and although the change in his plans was not ideal, it’s not what set him off today. No, that was all you. 

His radio had died toward the end of his shift. No big deal, he thought. He reached into his pack and fumbled through his belongings to find his spare batteries. Only, they weren’t in his bag. So he searched a little longer before he realized he actually knew exactly where those precious batteries would be. No doubt inside you at the moment. 

Was he in danger without a working radio? Could’ve been, but no, not really. Will he never find batteries again? Yes, he will. Joel’s crafty and good at scouting supplies like that, even when supplies are sparse. What did pissed him off, however, is the fact he knows you consciously went behind his back to steal his batteries for those toys. You’ve probably spent all last night and all day today fucking yourself silly, couldn’t have waited just one more day. He feels a little insulted, topping off the jealousy already simmering.

Joel comes back to Jackson around five in the evening. He should be showering, cooking, setting the table, and tidying his house. But instead, he makes a beeline for your place. 

He doesn’t bother knocking on your door. He knows you keep it unlocked, something he constantly advises you against. He closes your door, and hears your long and pretty moans coming from upstairs. He’s not sure what’s coming over him or why he cares so much. He prides himself on being level-headed, rational. But all of that’s out the door when he hears your moans, moans that he believes should have been all for him and him alone. 

At least he gets to catch you in the act. 

Joel tiptoes up your steps, fighting his urge to stomp angrily. Your bedroom door is wide open, lights dim. There’s a lava lamp bubbling next to you on your nightstand. You’re laid out on the bed, legs spread, one toy between your thighs and two others lay next to you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you moan Joel’s name. It’s a nice touch. Maybe he’ll go easy on you. 

Probably not. 

He stands in your doorway and clears his throat, “Enjoyin’ yourself?” 

“Joel!” you yelp and your eyes fly open. Joel moves to stand next to your bed, his gaze dark and intense, his mouth forming an unamused frown. 

“You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

Your words are caught in your throat. Ohh, you are so busted.

“How many’d you steal from me?”

The vibrating dildo you were fucking yourself with is still humming loudly, and in the otherwise silence of your room, it’s deafening. You fumble to try to turn it off. 

“Oh, no. Don’t let me interrupt your date. That’d be awful rude of me.” 

Too shocked to make any moves, you freeze, dildo still humming away inside you. And as anxious as you feel, you’re equally excited. You’ve picked up on Joel’s jealous side, and you’d be lying if you said some part of you wasn’t trying to rile him up. 

“I just, mmmm,” you moan, “Just missed you a lot. Couldn’t wait for tonight.”

“S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You missed me so much you decided to deliberately go through my bag and steal my batteries?”, he spits, sarcasm lacing his words, “Yeah hon, sure looks like you missed me, fuckin’ yourself on that plastic cock.”

“Silicone,” you correct, though now definitely isn’t the time to bother with semantics. Joel notices you rocking your hips ever so slightly, chasing your orgasm as subtly as you can. You’re right, right fucking there. He can see it on you, you’ve got that look about you. Your breathing is shaky and your body trembles. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve,” Joel hovers over you, one hand next to you on the bed and his other reaching for your toy. 

“Please,” you beg. 

“Think you’ve made yourself come enough, impatient goddamn brat,” he mumbles as he pulls the toy away from your center, tossing it aside. You groan and whine in frustration. Just three more seconds, you would have been there. 

Fucking Joel.

“I’m at a loss on what to do here, sweetheart,” Joel says as he kicks off his shoes before sitting on your bed, his back against the headboard, “Can’t fuckin’ take those batteries back on account of they’ve all been inside ya.”

“Joel, I did not fuck myself with your batteries. That’s…not how that works.”

“Shut up, wiseass.”

“Joel, I was gonna give them back, I swear. I just wanted–”.

Joel cuts you off, not caring to hear the rest of your explanation, “All half used and out of juice? How generous. Lucky me,” he muses, annoyed.

“Joel–”.

“Don’t think you fuckin’ get it,” he snaps, “Y’got no fuckin’ self control. You’re lyin’ to me, stealin’ from me, sneakin’ around. And it breaks my heart, ‘cause I was startin’ to look forward to our date.”

“Date?” you ask in confusion. Joel’s cheeks turn rosy as he refuses to acknowledge his slip up. The not-date turned actual-date. “Joel.”

“Need to get through to you somehow,” he ignores you, still too upset,  “Got a couple different ideas in mind. I guess we’ll have to see which one sticks.”

He pulls you up and over his lap, your head laying on the crumpled sheets. He presses a hand firmly on your neck, holding you in place as he gently runs his other hand over the swell of your ass. 

You know what’s coming. And it’s been a long time coming, at that. You've noticed the way Joel looks at you, his angry stare and how he chews on his inner cheek. How his hands ball into fists, like he’s fighting the urge to strangle you. Wrap his hands around your neck and just fucking squeeze. 

Crack. 

The sting of his hand striking your ass is as delicious as it is painful. He smacks you again, harder. And it’s just as incredible. That sharp bite, how it sends arousal gushing from your core. You can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth. 

Joel pulls you off his lap abruptly, onto your knees between his thighs, and faces you towards him. He wears a puzzled expression, like somehow he wasn’t aware that spanking is more of a reward than it is a punishment, at least to you. “Ya weren’t s’posed to enjoy that so much.”

“Joel–”.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that. Fuckin’ weirdo,” he interrupts, shaking his head a little. Joel thinks for a moment, staring at you as he contemplates his next move. His eyes flicker to yours, and you can practically watch the gears in his head begin to turn. “I think,” he lifts his hips to pull both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and his cock springs free. It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to see it. Long and thick, prominent vein, blushed tip a bit wider than his shaft. Curly dark hair surrounding the base. It’s artwork. “Think we’ll try Plan B,” he says firmly as he reaches forward, wrapping one hand around himself to stroke his member, thumb swiping across the tip. 

It should be your hand. And he’s well aware of this, but he’s giving you a taste of your own medicine before moving on to the main event. You extend your arm in front of you, but Joel doesn’t allow it.  “Ah ah,” he tuts, slapping your hand away, “You can go play with one of your rubber cocks. Since you love ‘em so goddamn much.” His words are biting, acrimonious.

He’s throwing you off. Joel, who says he couldn’t give a “fiddler’s flying fuck” about you, is upset that your pleasure wasn’t brought on by his hands today. Joel, who barely tolerates you. “Joel, please, I want you. I’m sorry,” you cry, “I need you, Joel, been missing you so much. Please, Joel. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Layin’ it on pretty fuckin’ thick, sweetheart.” 

You cry in frustration, “Joel, I’m sor-”.

“Cut that shit out. You ain’t sorry. You’re sorry you got caught, ‘cause now you’re in trouble,” Joel keeps stroking himself, taunting you, “This is on you.”

Joel thinks back to when he was a teenager, when his father caught him with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, how his father’s punishment was to make him smoke the whole pack, and how before he was even halfway through the pack the nicotine had made him sick to his stomach. 

Same idea.

Still stroking himself, Joel grabs one of the vibrators sitting next to you. It’s a wand type, light pink in color. He holds down a button and it buzzes to life, “C’mere. Between my legs. Do it now,” his voice is stern, authoritarian. You assume the position. Joel parts your legs wider, pulling your knees back before guiding your hands to hold the backs of your knees, keeping you open nice and wide for him. “You stay like this. Don’t move.” His flannel feels soft and warm on your skin. You feel his hot breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. Wordlessly, he brings the vibrator to your core. He drags it over your lips, through your folds, coating it with your arousal. 

Joel circles your clit with the toy now, and your hips to follow the sensation. The way you’re sighing, moaning, grinding with his movements, Joel can tell you haven’t picked up what he’s putting down yet. 

Poor thing. Fucked herself stupid on all these plastic cocks. 

“Yeah, Joel, like that. Fuck, feels good,” you breathe, “Right there. S’good.”

Joel’s silence is disconcerting. There’s no dirty talk, no snide remarks like usual. But you’re too worked up to worry about why. Within seconds, you’re coming. Sweet, breathy moans and whines falling from your lips as you ride out your high. 

Joel presses the button on the vibrator, taking it up a notch. The buzz is louder, the feeling intense, nearing on too much. Finally, he speaks, “I really do hope your thievery was worth it, sweetheart,” he whispers in a low, raspy voice behind the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, exactly how many batteries am I short?” 

It’s getting uncomfortable now. You wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and try to pull him away from your core but he doesn't budge, “What? Joel, let up.”

“What’d I say? Hands on your thighs. Y’don’t move,” he barks. You do as you’re told, and he hums in satisfaction, “Now answer my question.” 

“I don’t know, six? I–oh, fuck. I was gonna give them back. Please, Joel, I can’t– ”

Joel scoffs, “Six? You stole six batteries. What, were you stashing them for winter? Squirrelier than I thought.”

“No, just…you know how sometimes, they-they-they, and they’re old, so–Joel, m’serious–”, you whine, almost pleading for mercy from the overstimulation he’s causing.

Joel pulls the vibrating wand from your core, and you exhale in relief, resting your head back on his shoulder. He’s showing you mercy. Or so it seems. 

But the sound of the vibrator clicking on is back in an instant. Slightly different pitch this time. You pull your head off his shoulder and watch in shock as he guides it to your pussy, notching the longer end inside. He doesn’t bother going slow as he parts your insides with the toy. You worked yourself up plenty.

“Whatever. Damage is done. So here’s the deal,” Joel starts, “You’re gonna come for me six times, one for each of the six batteries you stole from me. You’re gonna keep count, too. Got one down, right?” but you’re a mess of whimpers and whines, which is the wrong answer, “Or are we doin’ more?”

“One, one, we’re at one. Oh, god. Joel, please. Please.”

“Y’don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for,” Joel mumbles. His hand crosses over both his and your bodies to hold your jaw firmly, keeping your sight set on the picture between your thighs. The toy sliding in and out of you, wet and sticky with your juices. The shorter end sliding over your clit. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. Within seconds, you’re seeing stars as Joel fucks you through it. 

“Count,” he demands. “T-two,” you moan, but Joel doesn’t relent. A third washes over you just as quickly as the previous one. “Three, s’too much Joel, please,” you beg.

“Quit whinin’,” he mocks, “I’m goin’ easy on ya, considering the fuckin’ stunt you pulled. You wanna make it more?”

“No, please. M’so tired.”

“Quit your whinin’. S’a punishment. Ain’t supposed to feel good,” he growls, “You’re gonna give me my batteries’ worth out of these little fuck toys. Make you come until you can’t fuckin’ walk.” You’re still holding your knees back as Joel fucks you through your third orgasm. The hand that was holding your jaw is now traveling lower, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples. Hot, salty tears of overstimulation and exhaustion roll down your cheeks. You’re shaking, trembling, and he knows it’s all too much. He wonders how many times you came before he showed up. So Joel decides to show a bit of mercy, feeling that pulling three orgasms from you is sufficient enough. For now.

He pulls the toy from your pussy and tosses it on your nightstand. He gives you a moment to breathe, to let your legs down. He rubs deep and firm circles into your sore, aching hips before lifting your limp, pliant body up to straddle his lap and face him. His eyes are soft and sincere, his quiet way of telling you he’s still here. And when this is all done, he’s gonna take care of you.

He’s still gonna fuck the living daylights out of you, though.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he tells you, “Almost there.” You nod and Joel lifts your hips, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and pulling your aching pussy down onto his cock with a soft groan, slower than he did with the toy. He knows you’re sore. 

He fucks you deep and hard, just how you like. You fall forward, resting your forehead on the thick line of muscle between his neck and shoulder. Whimpering his name into his hot skin, moaning somewhere between agony and ecstasy, “I-Joel, I'm serious. It’s t-too much, please.”

“I know it is,” he whispers as he bounces you on his cock, chasing his own release, hanging by a thread with the way you’re squeezing around him. You think Joel is feeling sympathetic maybe, as he decides to offer a compromise. “I’ll make–oh, fuck,” he gasps, “Make ya a deal.” You mumble incoherently against him, and Joel sits you upright, his cock stiff and filling deep inside you. 

“Right here. Look at me,” he breathes out, gently gripping your jaw to tilt your face up. You look at him with burning, tear stained eyes. He can see the exhaustion on your face. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he coos, “How many left you owe me?”

“Three,” you answer, breathlessly.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly, “I know you’re tired, honey. Probably pretty sore. S’that right?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“Christ, poor thing. What a mess you got yourself into. I know you didn’t mean to, hmm?” You nod in agreement quietly as he fucks you a little more gently, offering you a slight break. “Just curious, wanted to have some fun, huh? I know how ya are,” his tone is soft and kind, but still teasing. 

You smile with a slight shrug. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for stealing, and you only have to give me one more tonight. Just gotta apologize, real nice f’me.”

“Mmm,” is all you can muster. You’re so spent, muddled and incoherent noises seem to be the only sounds your voice can make. 

“Words, c’mon now, baby. ‘I’m sorry, Joel’,” he instructs you.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you repeat, “For taking your batteries.”

“There ya go, sweetheart. That's it. Good girl,” he praises.

You sigh and collapse on his chest once more as Joel snakes a hand between your bodies. He finds your clit, his fingers warm and soft. With your face against his body, you bite down on his shoulder as his fingers begin rubbing slow, precise circles over your aching clit. No toy in the world could compare to the way his touch makes you feel. 

Just one more. 

He starts to fuck you deeper again, his free hand sliding up your up to grip around the base of your neck as he thrusts up into you, bouncing you on his cock. You’re liquid in his hands as he continues to steadily work your clit. That all too familiar pooling heat in your core is building back up for the last time, this one far more intense than the previous three orgasms he’s pulled from you. It crashes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Joel feels your body tremble and shake, your fluttering walls choking his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him as he spills inside of you, filling you up with loads of his hot seed. 

God, how you missed that. Missed him.

It could have been minutes, maybe hours that you stayed seated on his cock like that, just breathing with Joel. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, strokes your hair.

Finally, you sit up and extricate your body from his to remove the batteries from the toys. “Here,” you hand them to him.

Joel wears kind of an affected scowl on his face as he takes them from you. “Batteries feel light.”

“Sorry,” you say.

Joel smiles softly, his eyes glimmering as he hands them back to you, “Keep ‘em. Got a stash at home anyhow. Now get dressed.” 

“Why?”

“Jesus, sweetheart. Y’got the memory of a goldfish. Cause we’re havin’ dinner, that’s why.” 

You bite your lip and smile mischievously, “Because it’s a date.”

“No. S’not a date, wiseass. You’re a lady and you deserve…hey-”, Joel stops himself, noticing the bubbling lava lamp next to you, green with blue bubbles, like the one he was eyeing back in Spencer’s, “S’a cool lava lamp. I always wanted one.”

“I know,” you smile shyly, “Picked it out for you. Just wanted to make sure it worked first.”

Please please please reblog, comment, send me asks! Talk to me! Your interaction means the world!

follow @strang3stories and turn on notifs to know when i post!

- Women: can't live with them, can't live without them. - Words of wisdom, Lloyd my man. Words of wisdom.

THE SHINING (1980) dir. Stanley Kubrick