My Gender Is ‘the March Of The Black Queen’ By Queen

Reblog daily for health and prosperity

Asking Nicely II Joel Miller x Reader

Joel's jealousy burns within him, brighter than he thought it would. But you're a tough gal, you can hold your own.

Warning: implied age gap, unwelcome advances, brief depiction of violence, explicit content, fingering f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex. 18+ only, minors DNI!

Word count: 3k

You were a bright and shining light in the darkness of a broken world, and whether Joel would admit it or not, it made him incredibly nervous. He enjoyed you, more than he wanted to say, especially to himself. He was worried that if he confessed his feelings to himself or to you, that you'd leave, or something terrible would happen. So he kept quiet, and would watch you from a distance, thinking about the way you'd fit against him in all the right ways.

He was at the bar in Jackson well past sundown. He had come to see you. You were playing that night; Tommy had asked you to. So you sat in the corner of the bar, strumming the guitar and singing as everyone quieted to listen.

Joel vaguely recognized the tune, something slow and mellow that had couples swaying together around the tables. You sang beautifully. You played beautifully. He basked in what felt like normalcy and stayed until you were done several songs later. He watched you smile as the people in the bar clapped for you.

You set the guitar in the stand, and walked up to the bar, and Joel finished his whiskey. The bartender announced last call but he stayed seated. He watched as Ben, a man about your age, sidled up next to you and began talking to you. Joel could see you beam at him, and something stirred within him.

He kept his face carefully composed. He watched you shake your head, and then look around desperately. He felt it was a call for help. He stood as people began to leave, walking with intention in every step towards you.

“C’mon,” Ben was saying. “You said it yourself, you're not doing anything tonight. Come on over.”

“Ben, I'm flattered, really! But—oh, hi Joel.” You looked over Ben’s shoulder at Joel, relief washing over you. Joel offered you a nod and Ben turned. Joel was slightly taller than him, and heavier set than him. But Ben didn't back down immediately.

The younger man squared his shoulders, looking Joel in the eyes. Joel didn't find him to be intimidating, but he did see him as a threat. A threat to you.

Ben reached for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You tried pulling away but he kept you locked against him as the two men stared each other down. You felt uncomfortable, and you tried to pull away again. “Ben, please.”

Joel watched, clenching his fists. Anger began pouring into his chest as you glanced at him, a fleeting look that he couldn't read. He stepped towards Ben. “You had best listen to her.”

“Or what?” Ben sneered. You wormed your way out of his grasp. He turned his head to look down to you, and that's when you closed your hand into a fist and punched him.

Ben stumbled back from the force of the blow, and Joel stepped between you and the man. The bar went silent, the remaining people fixing their eyes on the trio. Joel might as well have been a wolf, hackles raised and growling as Ben touched his jaw. Ben glared at Joel, spitting out, “Son of a bitch.”

“Move along now, son,” Joel replied, preparing himself for the imminent fight.

You breathed hard, your fury written across your face, and when Ben looked to you, you held his gaze and cocked an eyebrow. You wanted to dare him to overstep again, especially now that Joel was here. Your knuckles throbbed from the impact of the blow. It made you feel alive.

Ben scoffed, shaking his head, and turned to leave. Joel stood between you the whole time, waiting for the door to close behind him before turning to you. He looked you up and down, asking silently with his eyes if you were okay. He reached down, grabbing onto your hand, looking at the red skin over your knuckles. One of them had split, and was dripping blood.

“C’mon,” he said, jerking his head to the right. “Let's get you outta here.”

•••

Joel sat across from you and tended to your wounds with gentle hands. He had a clean rag in his hands that was soaked in alcohol; you commented that he was good at this. He wiped the area around the split, and then dabbed at the wound itself. 

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away at the sting, but you held firm, watching him as he furrowed his brow. “I've patched myself up enough to know, I guess.”

Nodding your head, you sighed. “I shouldn't have punched him.”

“If you hadn't, I would've,” he quipped. “No one gets to touch you like that.” 

Amusement beamed at your eyes as you looked at him. You had seen the flash of jealousy in his eyes earlier, and you could see it again more clearly now. “My my, is Joel Miller jealous?” 

Joel froze, clearing his throat, and you knew you had caught him like a rabbit in a trap. “No.”

“Uh huh,” you teased. He frowned, setting down the rag before standing. Your smile disappeared. You didn't realize you had struck such a strong chord. 

“I should get goin’.”  

“Hey,” you said, reaching out and grabbing onto his arm as he tried to step away. “I'd like it if you stayed.”

The man locked up again, his gaze snapping to yours in an instant. You rose from the chair. “Please?”

He sighed. “Suppose ya did ask nicely.”

You grinned up at him, and then your hands moved, one resting on his chest and the other on his neck. He was still, his breath hitching. His voice was deathly quiet when he whispered, “What’re you doin?”

Pressing your body against his, you tilted your head up. “Something I should've done a long time ago,” you whispered back, and then you kissed him. 

He whined. Almost silent, but it was there, swallowed by your mouth as you moved your lips against his. You began to pull away when he didn't respond immediately, fear of overstepping suddenly at the forefront of your mind. 

Then, his hands pressed into your lower and upper back, keeping you from backing away. He kissed you back, and he kissed you hard. It was zealous and feverish, growing more intense as the hand you had on his neck inched up and back into the hair on the back of his head. You were pressed backward into the table. Joel pulled away, you whined in protest, and then you were lifted by your hips up onto the surface.

His lips returned to yours, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped from your mouth as his tongue darted out, licking over your bottom lip. You met him, tongues tangling together, as you spread your legs to accommodate his body between them. You could feel wetness pooling at the apex of your thighs. You could feel the heat of the moment possessing you—Joel possessing you—and you gasped for breath when he pulled his head away. His touch left wakes of fire, tingling sensations burning across your skin. You needed more. 

“Maybe I was jealous,” he growled, and you shuddered. “Maybe I've been thinkin’ of this for weeks.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his admission and your eyebrows furrowed. “Well, maybe I've been thinking about it for months.”

His eyebrows raised, and then a smirk slowly played across his lips. “Darlin’, all you ever had to do was ask.” 

You swallowed, playing with one of the buttons on his flannel. “Joel,” you started, looking up at him through your lashes. “Take me to the bedroom.”

He didn't waste a second, hooking his hands under your knees and lifting you with a soft grunt. You directed him down the hallway towards your room. You expected him to throw you on the bed, to tear off your clothes, to bite you, to claim you, and you wanted these things. But when he laid you down with the softest hands, gentle and easy, you realized that you'd take any piece of him he'd give to you. His tenderness would not go unnoticed. 

He licked his lips as he looked over you, splayed out on the bed beneath him, and you felt shy. You turned your head, trying to hide, and he gave you a ‘tut tut’ with his tongue. “Look at me.” 

You did as he asked, and he followed it with a, “Good girl.” Your body shook in response, your cheeks burning again. He chuckled. 

He leaned down, grabbing your hands and pinning them together over your head. He told you to keep them there as he kissed along the side of your neck. He undressed you methodically, undoing the buttons on your shirt, one by one. You could feel your impatience growing. “Joel.” 

He hummed in response. The last button came undone and his hands found your bare sides, running up and down them before taking your breasts in his hands. He squeezed them gingerly, feeling their weight in his palms. You couldn't help squirming. You struggled with not moving your hands, you wanted to feel over him, too. You resisted the urge to touch his shoulders, to feel the muscles underneath his button up. You wanted him, more in that moment than you'd ever wanted anything else. 

He undid the button and fly on your jeans, and he pulled them down and away, leaving you clad in only your underwear. He breathed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He looked at you with feral eyes. You could feel it in his gaze: he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling them off in one motion. Your hands fell then, touching his arms. He looked at you, a domineering flame in his eyes, and in one smooth motion he grabbed onto you and flipped you onto your side. A smack landed on your asscheek, stinging the skin. You yelped, and then shuddered. He chuckled. 

His palm rubbed over where he'd slapped you. “What did I say?” 

“Not to move my hands…” you whispered. 

“Don't disobey me, darlin’.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good girl,” he repeated. Your eyes closed, mouth watering at his praise. You never thought it would sound so good. He rolled you back onto your back, and came to lay beside you, propping himself up on his elbow as his other hand came to your thigh. He rubbed, and then squeezed, and then inched his way up towards your pussy. 

You shuddered in anticipation. You wanted him to touch you in the spot only you had touched. He stopped moving, and you whined in protest. Your arms stayed above your head this time. You looked to him, and his eyes were watching you. 

“I wanna make sure,” he mumbled. “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “But…”

He tensed. “Yes?” 

“I haven't done this—” you started, and then felt yourself hesitating. You felt embarrassed. “—this kinda shit before.” 

His eyebrows raised and he squeezed your thigh. “You're sure you wanna do it with me?”

You didn't hesitate this time. “I do.”

His middle and ring finger brushed up over your folds, palm resting on the junction of your thigh and pelvis. Your eyes closed, and you could feel him lean and kiss your forehead. “Alright then.”

He brought his fingers to your clit, pressing against it in slow circles—testing the water. You gasped, nails digging into your palms to keep your hands from moving. Your thighs shook ever so slightly. Joel's lips found your neck, your head rolled to the side, and he kissed your skin, leaving little nibbles in his wake as he traveled down and then up again. One finger sunk into your entrance, and your thighs jolted closed. 

He waited until your legs fell again to pump in and out, and you couldn't stop the groan that left you. Joel's breathing was loud in your ear. 

He sunk another finger inside of you, slowly stretching you. His fingers were so much bigger than yours, long and thick, and he played you like an instrument. He found which spots made you cry out, and he pushed and rubbed them until you were a sweaty, babbling mess in his hands. You tossed and turned your head, his lips by your ear, encouraging you. 

“Doin’ so good, darlin’,” he whispered. “So wet, so tight. Oh yes, right there, huh? That's the spot. Yeah.” 

Your hips bucked off the bed as he curled his fingers. Your hands shot down to your sides, gripping the blanket underneath you. He chuckled, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't focus, his fingers driving you to insanity. You knew that this would be bad for you, because you would never stop craving this. Every time you'd see him, you'd want him more than you already did. He knew it too. 

His hand shifted angles, his thumb flicking at your clit as his fingers continued their ruthless assault. “Joel.” 

You whispered it like a prayer. 

“Cum. For me, darlin’, please.” 

He flicked twice more, and everything that had been building in you exploded. Your legs slammed closed around his hand, and he moaned with you as you cried out. The waves crashed into you, carrying you further from reality, small movements of his hands driving you forward into the deep waters you recognized as Joel. You were putty in his hands. Your eyebrows furrowed, your mouth open, and Joel couldn't help but watch as you came on his fingers. He was mesmerized. 

You began to come down, twitching and jerking, and then trying to scramble away from Joel's movements. It was all too much for you. It was overwhelming. Everything was loud, your combined breathing, your heart slamming in your chest and the blood pounding in your ears. You reached to grab his forearm, digging your nails into his skin, and he finally slowed to a stop. You shook like a leaf.

He kissed you then, his lips soft against yours. You realized then that he was still fully clothed, and you reached for his belt. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you from undoing it as he pulled away. You groaned, trying to express your discontent. 

“Patience,” he said, ducking his head to take your nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it, flicking it with his tongue, making your back arch. He pulled away with a ‘pop!’ and you fell back onto the bed. He got up, taking off his shirt and undoing his belt. He kicked his boots off, then his pants and underwear followed, and you saw the sight you had been literally dreaming of for weeks. 

He was a broad and beautiful man, scars and hair covering his body. You followed the trail of hair down from his navel, and your eyes widened at the sight of his cock. It was long, thick, curved up and weeping with precum.  He got back up on the bed.

You felt nervous. Joel could see it. He took your face in his hands. “If you wanna stop, at any point, you just tell me,” he reassured. 

“Okay,” you replied. “I will.” 

He nodded his head, hands going down by your sides to hold himself up as he climbed over the top of you. His cock rubbed against you, your wetness coating him. He trembled. 

His cock pushed into you, and your breath hitched. The stretch of him entering your pussy stung, and your hands shot to his back, gripping him. He didn't say anything, just slowly but surely worked his way inside of you. He sighed when he finally seated himself. You were breathing hard, and sweat had gathered at your temples. 

“I'm gonna move, darlin’.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes to find him staring at you. Something shone in his, something warm and almost loving. You wanted to drink it up, sit in this moment forever. He was looking at you like nothing else in the world mattered to him. He moved then, his thrusts deep and heavy. 

It felt so goddamn good. 

You cried out, and he reached down, encouraging you with his hands to wrap your thighs around his hips. You did so immediately, and it allowed him somehow even deeper access. You moaned, then gasped, then whispered his name. He hummed. 

“Faster,” you whined. He obliged. 

Each increase of pace was followed by squeezing him harder with your legs, or digging your nails into the skin of his back, and you cried out louder each time. 

He wasn't quiet, whispering your name, whispering praises, telling you how good you were for him. He moaned when your hips shifted off the bed, trying to meet his thrusts. 

“Excited, huh? Do you like when I make you feel good, sugar? F-fuck. You're so god damn tight, feels so damn good.” 

“Mhmmm! Yes, Joel! I can't—I can't—” 

“Can't what?” He crooned, brushing a hand across your cheek. “We both know you can cum for me again.” 

That did it for you. You unraveled again. Your hand came up, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him down onto you. His body covered yours, pressing against you, his face tucking against your neck. He moaned loudly, and you shook, unable to even do much as breathe as you tightened around him over and over again. His thrusts became heavier again, more sporadic, and then he was cumming, too. 

He fell against you completely, barely holding himself up. You gulped in the air when you felt like you could breathe again, resting your cheek against the side of his head. Your hands slowly relaxed. 

He moved after a couple minutes of silence, pulling out of you before rolling to lay by your side. You immediately curled up against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“No no,” he replied. He gave you a smile, a genuine broad grin. “Thank you.” 

Don't tell me you liked

If you didn't wanna fucc

okay i have seen so many superwholock posts about how they’re the ‘crazy fandom’ and like ????? have you even met the snk fandom because

(they cosplay bungee jump like good luck topping that)

yeah ur faves could never bye

Why’s he so lovable! Why?! Why?!

Live in Montreal 1981

thinking abt how jinx told sevika she gave silco his injections because "he was a big crybaby and didn't want to do it himself." thinking abt how we know silco has given himself his injections plenty of times without issue. thinking abt how silco took in a little girl who could never do anything right, who could never be trusted with anything important because she'd fuck it up, who was a jinx, and told her "I trust you enough to put this needle in my eye." thinking abt how vulnerable of a position silco put himself in just to make jinx feel safe and loved.

SHOWTIME

Kim and Jimmy in the first and last episode of every season

helping hands

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Premise: That’s the thing about Joel — he is desperate for control. You don’t blame him, everyone is nowadays. But there are times, like tonight, that he needs something else.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, handjob, oral sex (m receiving), edging, orgasm denial, praise kink, sub!joel, dom!reader

Note: you can't expect to show me a moody, reluctant single dad and not write about him ok. i haven't played tlou, so this is based off the first episode of the show.

You learn early on that overthinking won’t do you any good. There is no place for that in this new world. Everyone and everything has been reduced to a single instinct: survive.

Joel taught you that.

“You wanna survive? Stop thinking. Just go. Or else that shit is gonna swallow you whole.”

Ironically, out of all the things to make you overthink, it’s Joel that makes your head spin. He told you he has no love left in him, that whatever is between the two of you is all physical. You accept it, there is no way to hide the horror etched in his face. You believe him, just not entirely. You still have hope that he has room in his heart. Maybe not for love, but for endearment. It’s not much, but you’ll take it.

Especially if it means having Joel Miller reduced to a moaning mess. 

“You’re doing so well, Joel. Just hold on a little bit longer, okay?” You kiss his temple as he all but bucks into your touch. Your fingers wrap around his hard length, pumping and squeezing gently at the base of his cock until he nods, gasping. 

You’ve been at this for far too long, moonlight traveling through the his shitty apartment above with graceful ease, as if the world hasn’t turned to shit. Joel is usually the one making you beg for release, but how can you deny him when he's like this?

There is a sweet ache between your legs that screams for attention, and surely, had he not been brought to the edge over and over again, he’d fill you with his cock until he you felt him in your throat.

But this isn’t about you. 

This is about him and how he's wrapped up so tightly in his pain and anger that he can barely function. He is a mess of hard knots, so harshly coiled it leaves the rest of him in shreds.

He was so rigid when you stopped by, his jaw clenched so tightly you could taste blood in your kisses, but now those imaginary knots are starting to unravel. With every stroke and squeeze to his cock, he’s unwinding.

You hum sweet praise in his ear when his hand comes to your wrist, trying to hold onto you as his only leverage.

That’s the thing about Joel — he is desperate for control. You don’t blame him, everyone is nowadays. And you’re more than happy to give that to him. It's all for him. He craves control and you're willing to grant him it. But there are times, rare as they are, that he needs something else. You like to think you know him, and that tonight is a sort of attestation of that. It isn’t like every other night. He doesn’t need to bury himself deep into you until all you feel is him.

No, not this time. This time, he needs you to settle him.

You lay beside each other, your lips peppering his cheeks and chin and nose and lips and everywhere with kisses, and Joel looks just about ready to completely unwind. He gasps you name when you rub over the underside of him with a maddeningly slow motion.

“It’s okay, baby,” You assure, your hand sticky as your thumb comes to the tip of his cock where he drips precum. He groans, biting his lip and turning his head so he can hide his face in your neck, muffling his moans. He’s exposed, all the way down to his bones as he twitches in your hold. “I’m here. Let it all out for me, okay? You’re safe. You’re alright.”

The groan that tumbles out of him is louder than before.

“You’re so close, baby,” You press against the the vein on the underside of his cock feeling the way his pulse increases, how he is ready to come undone. He all but thrashes, ready and heated. Your lips tenderly trace the at the underside of his jaw, the skin around your mouth burning from his prickly stubble. 

You’re both sweaty, too warm in the best way possible, making him feel as though he is going to spiral out of his skin. You know because this makes you feel the same way. The control, the trust he puts in you to keep him dancing on the edge of release. Every flutter of his pulse, every sound he makes sends a dull throb of arousal shuddering down your spine until you feel your own heartbeat between your legs.

“Sweetheart,” He breathes out, the syllables stretching in his mouth. He's going to come undone. You can feel it in the way his cock twitches in your hand. You can smell it mixing with the sweet smell of whiskey on his breath. The orgasm building in him is overwhelming, a massive blackhole with him in the center bucking his hips as you move down his shaft.

“Do you want to finish?” You ask, your voice a soothing balm as his hips flex, begging for mercy. You’re strong, stronger than him, and your mind isn’t hazy with overwhelming pleasure like his. You have the leverage. It should unsettle him, shake him enough to have you pinned to the bed.

Yet, he stays in your embrace. He lets you keep him at the edge of release, lets you build his orgasm until his eyes roll back in his head. He isn’t safe in his own hands, his palms stained in blood that never seems to come out, but in yours, he is unwinding. He's okay, or at least as okay as one can feel in this fucked up world.

“Sweetheart! Fuck—” He curses as you make another slide back up to his tip, teasingly pressing your thumb against his slit, thick precum oozing around the pad of your thumb. There is no way he can last; all his nerve endings have bubbled to the surface, every ounce of pleasure has engulfed him.

“Just a little bit longer, I promise,” You pet his hair as you continue stroking his hardness. “Is that okay?”

It takes him a moment to nod, a strangled "yes" caught in his throat when you take your hand away from him. His cock lands back against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking precum. The movement alone is almost enough to make him come, but he holds back. He bites his lip as you push him onto his back.

With a final kiss to his lips, you're moving. Lower and lower. Trailing your lips down his chest and stomach, following the trail of peppered hair on his belly that leads you to his flushed cock. As you smile up at him, he brings his hands to your shoulders.

“You don’t—” He starts, his words harsh and fumbling as you place a delicate kiss to the thick head of his cock.

“I want to.”

“‘M not gonna last.” He's so fucking sensitive you’re sure he's going to lose it any second.

“Don’t want you to last. Just tell me what feels best, okay? Don’t hold back.”

Keeping your eyes locked, you open your mouth, taking him in inch by inch in a sinfully smooth glide. Your thighs rub together, your throbbing intensified, but you’re much more interested in how he arches his back so sharply. How he turns to putty in your hands. It takes Joel no time to start rocking into your mouth, speech fragmented into various commands of what he wants you to do, to take him deeper, to suck harder — and you relax your throat to make space.

Running soothing fingers over his hips, he seems to be at the point of sobbing — “That — fuck — that’s g—good, sweetheart,” — your name a prayer on his tongue, and you grant him mercy.

He doesn’t need you to say he can finish — not with the adoring look in your eyes, and certainly not with the way your throat relaxes to take him all the way down. Joel dissolves into thrusts and useless, barely understood speech until he releases in your mouth. Every breath he takes is a scrap of your name or a ragged pant as the salty taste of him floods your tastebuds.

You stay between his legs, his cock pulsing in your mouth as you gently contract your throat to swallow his release. Truthfully, if you didn’t have his cock in your mouth, you’d have shit-eating grin plastered on your face, even with his come trickling out the corner of your mouth. This isn't the first time you've seen Joel fall apart, but it's always a welcomed image regardless.

You wait until he weakly pushes at your shoulders to move you away, releasing this cock from your mouth in a soft, wet sounding pop, licking the tip for good measure.

When you move your way back up his body, he doesn’t seem to have any strength left, doing little more than whispering your name as you wrap your arms around him. Pulling him close, you ask, “How you feeling? Better?”

“Y—yeah, baby. Good,” He mutters, moving down just enough to rest his head against your chest. "You're a fucking blessing."

He nuzzles between your breasts, letting the salty taste of your skin coat his lips. He finds the strength to wrap his own arms around you, pressing his fingertips lightly into your back as though he never wants to let you go.

You try not to think how you and Joel got to the point. Don't think, just do. It doesn't matter how you ended up here, all that matters is that you're here. That throughout the decay and pain, there is something that matters. It's not love, but something else. Endearment, affection, softness. What matters is the he curled into you and that you're able to take the stress and pain and frustration away from him.

Joel feels good against you, warm and solid.

thank you for reading! this was my first time writing outside of star wars, so i hope you enjoyed! comments, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated 💙