Word count: 2.8K | Part 1

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Porn with a minor plot, P in V, Joel is so fucking hungry, DEFINITELY a breed kink. Oldman!Joel, as always. No reader description at all except that she has hair. NO USE OF Y/N. 

A/N: FINALLY THE PART 2 as I promised! Happy New Year, folks! Thank you all so much for all the love this series had received, we're definitely having more for each holiday! In my masterlist you can find more of my writing and please, let me know what you thought about this one! 💌

You know you need to give it time.

You also know that getting attached to your favorite fictional character, who suddenly came to life on Christmas Eve, is one of the worst things you could do. You know you might be having another episode where you completely dissociate, and when you wake up, the pain of loss will be so deep that it will leave you in bed for days until nothing makes sense anymore.

But it is impossible not to get used to the extremely strong coffee he makes for you both in the mornings, or the incredibly comfortable embrace while you are watching a movie or an episode of something you desperately feel he will love as much as you do. 

There is also the fact that in this reality, neither Tommy, nor Ellie, nor Sarah actually exist; and although you avoid the subject as much as you can, on the night of the 29th, you both end up having that delicate conversation where you have to explain exactly what you are both dealing with.

Joel seems to understand. He understands that being alive and knowing the outcome of the lives of the people he loves is better than not having a second chance. He is understanding, and that breaks you into a thousand little pieces inside. Because for him, there is no option to go back — at least, not alive. There are several options for a fresh start, and you offer to help him once the holidays are over to find something to occupy his mind, a job, anything. Even though money isn't an issue for you or your family, you understand his point of view; Joel didn't like the feeling of being a leech.

And well, he definitely wasn't.

You like the kisses you exchange more than you should, the way he seems to praise you at every moment as if you were a deity, covering you from head to toe with caresses and sweet words. His scent is embedded in your sheets in the most delicious way possible. Your mother seems to pay more attention to you now, calling you several times a day to ask about the handsome contractor from the Christmas party, and for the first time in your life, you don't feel the need for her approval. Not when Joel Miller, your Joel, is alive and breathing, with a towel wrapped around his waist and wet hair in your living room, asking where he can find a deodorant that doesn't smell like wild lavender.

You haven't touched each other intimately since Christmas night, when you deliciously came on his leg and eventually fell asleep in his strong, warm arms while feeling him completely hard against your ass. You no longer need to spend part of your nights reading steamy stories on Tumblr or scrolling through your feed on any other social media tag with his name; you have him here now, in the flesh. Yet, curiosity is always greater than you can admit, and you obviously still want to take a peek to see what your favorite authors are writing. 

It is even more fun now, knowing that he is capable of doing all those things to you, or even worse.

It is even more fun knowing that his hands are indeed strong, and even if you won't admit it, you are dying to feel the heat of having him in your hands, and better yet, inside you, making you drip his cum. The mere thought sends a specific warmth just below your belly. Joel is sleeping beside you, his grey beard neatly trimmed and his curls scattered across his face in the most beautiful way you have ever witnessed. You both decided to stay home for New Year’s Eve and, naturally, were in bed before midnight. Somehow, there was nowhere else you wanted to be; all the parties, fireworks, and expensive glasses of champagne seemed to have lost their charm now that your heart felt like it was about to burst in your chest, finally full of love.

He is sleeping peacefully, breathing softly, his prominent stomach rising and falling slowly. One of his hands rests possessively on your leg; he seems made for the fit of your bed, as if your entire existence were in complete sync with his. You didn't believe in destiny, of course not, but nothing could explain Joel Miller to you, or what he represented.

The photo of Joel was still on your nightstand despite his protests, and you found his reactions even funnier when you made him watch other television shows featuring the actor who played him in general. Both were similar, if not identical, even though Joel would grunt at every turn about how he would never do something that way, or how they were completely different. Your laughter seemed to make him soften, and you wouldn't even realize when you had fallen asleep until you woke to his husky voice announcing he was carrying you to bed, lifting you without any effort at all. 

And all these moments made life feel good; they made life sound like something to be celebrated, something sweet that you never wanted to end.

You didn't want to admit it, but you had always been in love with him. Now, of course, it felt terrifying, but you couldn't help it.

Not when Joel seemed completely enchanted, telling you how your eyes, your hair, and your entire existence had haunted his dreams ever since the apocalypse he had witnessed. As if some force in the universe were guiding you toward each other, and you believed in it deeply.

He seemed to celebrate every little thing in this world, and it made you realize how much all the things that Joel had faced had molded him. A walk around the block to pick up some snacks for dinner would leave him tense and defensive, as if a crazy zombie were about to attack you both, and he seemed even more protective; you knew that with time, everything would fall into place. Joel loved sitting in your garden; he loved watching life happen from your kitchen window and seemed enchanted by the birds, the small animals, and the wildlife, as well as the snow falling in the most mundane way and the laughter of the neighborhood children as they built snowmen and made angels in the soft, white snow.

He was safe now, and you would make sure that nothing bad ever happened to him again.

You couldn't sleep. It was just a few moments until midnight, which meant that soon, you would be starting your year on much more than just the right foot. You would probably just leave a tiny kiss on Joel’s cheek, you wouldn’t have the heart to wake him to celebrate properly, and simply having him by your side was already enough of a sign that the coming year would be perfect. 

Trying to ward off boredom, with your legs tangled in his in the most comfortable way possible, you rested your face against Joel’s chest. He was wearing only the black boxers you had bought him a few days ago, claiming he hated sleeping in clothes because, apparently, it was much hotter during a New York winter than it was in Jackson. You kept your smartphone screen at its lowest brightness so as not to disturb him while you read and you scrolled through a scenario imagined by one of your favorite writers where Joel, your Joel, bent the reader over his construction office desk in Texas and did all sorts of wicked things to her.

You ignored the heat spreading between your legs as you moved through the story, taking a deep breath and pushing the covers away at the sudden warmth you were feeling. You shifted much more than planned, pressing your thighs together in search of some kind of relief. You had forgotten how stimulating the words you used to read could be.

You felt Joel move in bed, possibly just to shift positions, trying to get more comfortable. You didn't want to wake him, of course not, but his heavy, possessive arm was draped across your waist in such a way that you couldn't help but let out a loud sigh, knowing you were just one step away from all the things you were reading about. Joel’s grip caused your position to shift completely: your back against his chest, your ass against his hip, and all the heat from his body transferring to yours, skin to skin. It was comforting and the worst kind of torture at the same time.

Joel buried his face in your neck, murmuring something while still unconscious, in a state between dreams and reality, a grunt, perhaps, that you definitely couldn't identify. You sighed, with no choice but to surrender to the man, and found yourself extremely surprised to hear his husky voice, knowing his eyes were still closed, knowing he was one step away from ruining you if he wanted to.

“Ya’ think I don’t realize… that I don’t see ya’ readin’ this bullshit when ‘m right here to fuck ya’ in many better ways.” The accent seemed to make everything even better, and before you could process it, Joel swiped a lick over the sensitive spot on your neck, making you moan in complete surrender.

You felt him gradually hardening against you, causing you to tilt your hips toward his prominent bulge. Feeling his grip on your waist grow stronger, Joel was on top of you in a matter of seconds, pinning you between his strong arms and the soft bed. His expression was still sleepy, but his desire was apparent even through his ragged breathing, his grey curls falling in every direction and that damn smile dancing on his lips. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up…” You tried to apologize, your voice trembling even as you savored every moment. With one hand, Joel grabbed your phone from where it had been forgotten in a corner of the bed, his eyes scanned the still-glowing screen for a few seconds before the device hit the fluffy rug with an impact that wouldn't actually cause any damage.

You let out a gasp at the sound of Joel’s dry, ironic laugh echoing through the room, sending shivers straight down your spine and all kinds of wrong sensations directly to your cunt, which was completely wet at this point. He seemed strangely hungry, and you could never deny the fact that you had wanted him since the very first day, since the first kiss, since forever.

It was a universal truth that only Joel Miller possessed the power to give you the best orgasms, whether they were through your dreams, your own hands, or through his damn voice that made  you rub yourself even harder against his knee a few nights ago.

“Didn’t even needed to, doll. Sighing this loud and rubbin’ this pretty ass f’yours on me thinkin’ I wouldn’t notice? Nuh-uh. No need to keep readin’ this bullshit. I’ll show you something so much better.” He seemed completely insane, just like you, and there was something in his voice, in his scent... the universe seemed to be conspiring to make you more and more surrendered to Joel Miller, and no part of you intended to resist.

Joel rubbed his completely rigid cock against you and then adjusted himself once more between your legs, spreading them just enough to stay in the middle, the contact being completely direct now, tearing the most whiny and far-from-discreet moans out of you. Your hips tried to meet his, tried to search for more, but Joel was holding you firmly enough and seemed completely satisfied with dictating the rules and enjoying your whimpering and general suffering.

“Please... I've needed this since that damn party, Joel,” you begged, surrendered and feeling a lump form in your throat. Part of you hated begging and how easily it became an option when Joel was in play.

“Ya’ need me, hm? Where, darlin’? Show me, please,” he asked, though he sounded extremely ironic. You took one of his hands, leading it to your wet cunt over the delicate burgundy lacy panties you were wearing that night.

His laugh became even clearer, loud and husky. That single sound made you even wetter, driving you to act in the most pleading way possible. In one swift motion, you felt the fabric being torn by his own hands, with a sound that seemed deafening; with a whimper, you protested, and Joel froze in place. He looked at you, his gaze questioning how you even dared to challenge him.

Did you want him to stop and leave you like that?

Definitely not.

Without a second thought, he pulled the fabric up to his face, his gaze leaving no room for doubt, before tossing the panties toward the rug. He pulled his own cock out of his boxers, completely hard and leaking precum, impatient enough to rid himself entirely of that fucking piece of clothing that restricted him. Joel moved his hand up and down his length once before entering you in a single, deep thrust, making you moan out loud as if you were never fucked this good.

“Nhm… Joel…” You moaned in complete surrender, feeling his length stretch every inch of you, making you melt entirely. Joel seemed to be in total ecstasy as your pussy squeezed him, as if you were milking him. 

“Pussy so damn good, fuck, ‘m pretty girl. Gonna fill ya’ up with my milk and make ya’ swollen with a baby of mine.” He groaned, his accent becoming even deeper and loud. “This what ya’ wanted, hm? An old man fuckin’ ya’ so good? ‘M makin’ sure ya’ don’t need this bullshit anymore. ‘M right here.”

With every phrase that left his mouth, Joel accelerated his movements, making them more intense, holding you firmly in place and completely using your body for his own pleasure, like he hasn’t fucked a tight cunt like yours in years. 

And he was fucking right.

Your back arched off the bed as you craved more and more, and before you could process anything, Joel leaned his body forward and took one of your breasts fully into his mouth. He sucked desperately, circling his tongue around the sensitive nipple and nipping at it before letting go to repeat the process on the other. 

“Gonna steal your milk so good, darlin’…” He groaned. “But fuck… if your tight pussy keep milkin’ me like this, I will cum inside of you so fucking good.” 

“Please, J-Joel… Cum inside of me, please, please.” You begged. 

You pleaded over and over, your legs locking him in place, preventing him with all the strength you had left from pulling away, leaving him no choice but to stay deep inside and fill you with his seed. Joel intensified his movements, and you felt your orgasm hit with such force that it made you see stars, your entire body trembling as your vision went dark under the most intense climax you had ever experienced in your life. You rarely had unprotected sex with anyone and were fully aware of the risks involved, but frankly, you couldn’t have cared less.

It took Joel a few more moments, but when he finally came completely inside you, the seconds seemed to stretch into eternity. He simply wouldn’t stop; you could feel him spilling over and over and over, his cum leaking between your legs and onto the sheets. You were acutely aware that Joel was usually deprived of such carnal, worldly pleasures, and it felt as though he were emptying his very soul into you. Your moans, joined with his, only ceased when he finally, exhausted, gave one last shallow thrust and pulled out. His cock, now softening and slick with your deliciously mingled fluids, slid free as his grey curls stuck to his forehead and sweat dripped from his neck down to his chest.

Breathless, the two of you took a moment to stare at one another, groggy smiles of pure satisfaction on your faces. Joel lay down beside you and pulled you against his chest, taking a moment to calm his breathing while pressing a lingering, symbolic kiss to your forehead.

“Did so well, ‘m pretty girl. An old man like me can’t barely handle all of this.” He joked. “So damn good.” 

“I might never read anything ever again knowing you can do so much better, oh God…” You laughed and Joel looked at your clock on the wall. 

“Happy New Year, my little miracle.” 

“Happy New Year, darling.”

And when the two of you finally drifted off to sleep after a few moments of wandering conversation and shared laughter, every moment that had led you to this point seemed to make sense. You knew that in some universe, destiny was satisfied with the palpable happiness, the mere beginning of a long life together, where you would give your own life to keep him, your Joel, happy and safe.

Forever and always.

ever since i saw this video (the context for my non brazilian mutuals is basically the bride dancing with one of the bar guys and the comments are pretty much like: “if you had waited a bit more you could’ve married your soulmate!”) i can’t stop thinking about writing a one or maybe a five chapters max thing, where joel owns a bar service and sometimes helps his staff during the events, and, in this specific one, he dances with the reader/bride, they both have so much fun and it’s like an instant sparkle, but, at the same time: “wow reader just got married what the actual fuck??????!” you know? and maybe he could fuck reader dumb in the bathroom 🥵

so, i’m working on the part two of the joel is your favorite character and appears under your christmas tree and fucks you really good thing and it’s new years based, but, i need you guys to decide which route should it take! i’m also thinking into turning this into a holiday special thing! and also i want to thank everyone that stopped by and left a nice comment and everyone that liked or reblogged! i had so much fun writing this one and i’m so happy that you guys liked! there’s a tiny possibility that i can do both of the ones i asked for you guys to vote too…

Word count: 3.9K | Part 2

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Porn with a minor plot, dry humping, Joel cleans his mess with his tongue on the reader, kinda of a breed kink tho. Oldman!Joel, as always. No reader description at all except that she has hair. NO USE OF Y/N. 

A/N: I had this idea while wondering either should I write something to post here for Christmas or not, but writing it was so fun and I just had to! English it's not my first language so I apologize in advance. If you’re new over here, welcome and Merry Christmas! Feel free to check my masterlist with more of my writing and please, let me know what you thought about this one! 💌

You knew every single detail about him. Every tiny thing that made him your favorite character, and after so many years fixed on the same obsession, you could almost no longer separate reality from fiction.   

Joel Miller was absolutely everything to you.   

Your countless hours on Tumblr, the long list of failed dates with men who couldn’t even hold a candle to a fictional character molded over the years by the best writers you had ever seen in your life, the constant and extremely explicit dreams. Another year was coming to an end, and despite considering yourself a successful woman at twenty-one, you would soon be twenty-two, and your only wish was that Joel Miller existed and would materialize under your tree, or, better yet, in your bed.

Nothing compared to the feeling of complete emptiness that washed over you every night, especially on those ones when you slept alone, surrounded by your pillows. During the Christmas season, the feeling became even worse: the family dinners, the lingering looks, and all the meddling aunts always questioning when you would find a boyfriend to introduce to them.

You had returned home early that day. December 24th was nothing special when you felt increasingly alone. As you prepared for bed, still with your toothbrush between your lips, you scrolled through your Tumblr feed looking for a good one-shot to read before completely surrendering to the tired sleep that only a long day could provide. Colorful lights were strung throughout the house, but they were especially concentrated on the giant tree that one of your best friends had insisted you needed this year — though it remained empty, thanks to the gifts having been distributed two weeks prior. 

You didn't even notice when those same bright lights grew dim. When you returned to bed, you curled up amidst the warm blankets, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and cozy socks. You still had to face lunch the next day and listen to all the comparisons between you and your perfect younger sister, who flaunted a giant diamond on her ring finger. It would be a new day, and you needed to prepare yourself mentally.

Not long after having your feelings captivated by a good read, one that drew sighs from you and made you wish once more that fiction were reality, you fell into a state between deep and light sleep, still alert and not completely relaxed as you so desperately desired.

For Joel Miller, it all happened very fast.

Extremely fast.

One moment, he was certain he couldn't take any more. The blows Abby dealt to his body were incredibly heavy, and his lungs were surely damaged; yet, he was still fighting bravely, while Ellie’s screams were nothing more than a buzz in the back of his troubled mind. He knew that soon he would no longer be there for her, that the apocalyptic world was cruel, and that she would have to fend for herself. But contrary to what he imagined of death, he didn't see the image of Sarah or any of the loved ones he had lost over the years. In fact, everything went silent for a second, in complete darkness.

Until he found the courage to open his eyes, and the pain was gone. Perhaps paradise included a Christmas tree and a silent house, he couldn’t really say. Joel moved his body slowly, savoring the sensation of being able to breathe properly; the pain in the back of his head no longer seemed to be a problem, and there was no sign that his leg had been shoot.

Adjusting his hand, he felt a small note. The handwriting didn't look familiar, but Joel managed to read it anyway:

“Begin again, Joel Miller.”

Of course, he didn’t understand a single thing about what was happening, of course not. But he didn’t felt dead either; his clothes were halfway decent, and despite his messy curls and the initial confusion, the place still felt somewhat familiar. It didn’t seem like a world he knew, but he understood the coincidences of fate perfectly well. The same fate that had brought him Ellie, the same fate that had led him back to Tommy... Joel didn't believe in any bullshit at all, but it seemed to be his lucky day regardless.

He stood up slowly. He was still an old man, even if he was no longer on the path of a young woman furious over an action he had taken years ago — an action he did not regret.

He would have done it all over again, the exact same way, without hesitation, and there was beauty in that.

More than anyone, Joel Miller understood grief.

The decorations were curious, and as he walked through the hallways of the house looking at the photos on the walls, he realized this didn't seem like a world much different from the one before the apocalypse. Part of him still considered all of this a post-death dream, but the end of the world felt too distant, the end that had happened so long ago and taken the best parts of him. Joel should run and seize this chance, this fresh start; but if this really was a dream, he could afford to nose around for a few more moments. He could afford to breathe for once without feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The half-open door of your bedroom revealed Christmas lights while you were lightly asleep. Your phone screen still glowing. Joel paused for an instant, feeling a sharp pang in his chest, as if all the pieces of a puzzle were snapping into place at once.

He had been dreaming of you all these years.

It was your face in every one of his dreams. Over and over again.

For years.

He didn’t believe you could be real. With every passing second, he grew more shocked, watching you, frozen against the doorframe, afraid that if he took a single step, he might wake you. Afraid that if he moved in any way at all, he might lose you. Joel blinked slowly, gathering the courage he needed to approach. He took the phone from your hand, inspecting it to find where to turn off the light, as the model looked far more advanced than the ones he remembered. Finding the button he deduced was the correct one, he set the device aside and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand going directly to your hair, delicately brushing it away from your relaxed face.

His eyes traveled over every detail of you, but also over every detail of that room, stopping when they found a framed photo of him on your nightstand. A photo he didn’t remember taking, a photo impossible to capture for the simple reason that there had been no cameras. With every passing moment, it all seemed to grow more confusing.

Before he could demand anything, any explanation, your eyes snapped open. In a series of quick, terrified movements, you let out a hoarse, loud scream, trying to pull away as far as you could, but his hand was quickly over your mouth, muffling the sound. You couldn’t believe what was happening; a complete stranger was inside your house, and he looked exactly like the man you had daydreamed about for years, down to the clothes, the beard, the tiny details that had once only been described to you through the spiciest words.

Even the scent was the same.

“F’ God’s sake, girl. Ya’ wanna wake up all of ya’ neighbors?” he asked with his deep, raspy Texan accent making you even more terrified of what this could be. You certainly weren't dreaming, and you felt you needed to find a psychiatric emergency room as soon as possible.

But it felt so... real.

“Ya’ know what...?” he asked, hoping for some decent answers, nodding his chin toward the photo while still keeping his hand over your mouth. “How do ya’ know me? This picture... it’s not damn possible.”

Joel seemed more interested in trying to understand it for himself than actually prying the answers out of you, yet there he was, in the flesh, in your bedroom in the middle of Christmas Eve. Actually, it was already Christmas, according to your clock on the opposite wall, which marked shortly after midnight. When he finally took his hand off your mouth, his eyes — nearly imperceptible in the dim light — gave you a silent warning against screaming.

And if he really was your Joel, you knew exactly what he was capable of.

“I know everything about you,” you said. “Everything.”

“How’s that possible?” He asked, his expression a growing mix of fear and curiosity. “Ya’ don’t know shit about me.”  

“I know that you have a younger brother named Tommy. I know that you lost your daughter, Sarah, on the first day of the outbreak. I also know that years later you found Ellie Williams, a girl who can’t be properly infected, and you saved her and… I also know that you should be dead by now, because Abby Anderson, the daughter of the doctor you murdered to save Ellie, killed you.” Joel remained silent, processing all of that information in complete stillness, blinking slowly.  

“That doesn’ explain why I dreamed ‘bout ya’ almost every night for the last three years,” he muttered, completely devoid of humor, his voice sounding dry and still confused.   

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that question.” 

The fear seemed to dissolve with every passing second, and you relaxed back into the bed, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders for a moment as you savored the silence. You didn’t understand much about Christmas miracles or the nature of it all, but it felt as though fate were finally granting you one.

Only, it was much deeper than it seemed.

Joel Miller, with all his nuances, had saved you from terrible days where the pain of reality was relentless enough to make your chest ache and your body tremble as you cried yourself to sleep, questioning if there truly was a God or anything capable of making you feel even slightly better, capable of helping you fit in. Joel was, for the most part, the reason you still believed in love; and even as a fictional character, now materialized on your bed, you understood every inch of the shared pain regarding loss and new beginnings.

He was everything to you.

It was through words, through every version of him, that you had come to understand the meaning of loving someone so unconditionally that death, eternal sleep, and faith in the unknown... all of it seemed worth it if the love that filled your chest and made you feel seen truly existed.

You didn't realize when the tears began to stream down your delicate face, but Joel didn't move closer. He didn't know if he could, he wouldn't invade your personal space regardless… but it broke his heart to see you cry. It didn't feel right.

You managed to pull a brief smile onto your face before you began to sob heavily, finally reaching out for him, for a simple hug. Perhaps you would wake up the next day and none of this would exist anymore, but you would know that it had been real, and you would have something to hold onto during your hardest days once again.

Joel held you tight, pulling you against his chest, and you squeezed him as hard as you could, inhaling the woody scent emanating from his flannel. Every second of that moment felt as if two souls were finally meeting, as if Joel could finally rest, and as if you were finally whole.   

“Don’t cry, sweetpea. Bet ya’ still have a lot to tell me,” he said, keeping you close and kissing the top of your head while holding you in his arms.   

He wouldn't invade your space. He didn’t even understand the purpose of being there; he truly didn’t know how to go back home — if he even had one left in this world — but being with you felt right.   

It felt like fate.   

And Joel was counting on that for everything to be okay.

...

“So, what do you do for living, Joel?” your grandmother asked him for the tenth time. Joel ended up laughing. The clothes you had bought for him at the last minute seemed to fit perfectly, especially the sweater that matched yours, which had made him laugh heartily in front of the mirror when he realized your intentions, though he decided to wear it with honor.

“I’m a contractor, ma’am,” he replied, taking a sip of the best hot chocolate he had tasted in decades. In this world, food seemed to taste much better, for obvious reasons, of course.

Joel had agreed to pretend to be your date while the two of you spent a good part of the night talking after your tears finally stopped. To you, it made perfect sense that he knew everything and all your nuances, just as the fictional versions of him always seemed to know. Everything was very new and strange to Joel, and part of him still felt like a rough, completely inadequate man. 

But for some reason, things felt easy by your side, and he couldn't deny it.

He didn't plan on occupying your guest room forever; he needed to get his life in order. What he lost, what he had. The grief, the fresh start… But it had only been a few long hours since he had woken up under your Christmas tree, and you were in no hurry at all to have him leave.

His hand rested possessively on your waist the entire time, especially when your sister had started talking minutes earlier, trying to brag about everything, specially about the plans for her thousand-dollar wedding. She was interrupted by Joel, who seemed to have eyes only for you. 

Your mother was radiant; his perfectly Texas accent and excessive politeness made her eyes shine, as if she were saying that you had finally chosen someone decent.

“See that? A real job for a real man. I always told all my daughters and granddaughters that those...” Your grandmother paused for a second, nodding her chin toward your younger sister’s prim-and-proper fiancé, who was holding a champagne flute and could certainly hear what she was saying. “...type of boys were real trouble. A man who can’t build the house his future wife will live in, isn't a real man.”

His laughter echoed through the room in sync with yours as you exchanged looks. There was a certain complicity between you, and you cherished the feeling; your heart, full after so long, felt like a dream you would refuse to wake up from if that were the case. Joel was a gentleman, opening doors for you, making sure your cup of hot chocolate was full at all times, and being ready to get you whatever you asked for. He had taken the role of your Christmas date seriously, but a part of you felt something far beyond all the supposedpretending. 

“Your granddaughter is safe with me. I would build anything she asked m’ for.” 

But when he spoke those words, Joel wasn’t looking at your grandmother. No. He was looking at you, deep into your eyes, as if one of your favorite writers were at the helm of your life's script, casting you in the most beautiful romantic comedy of your life. As if he knew you in every lifetime of his. As if things were simple, meant to be even. 

And you felt your heart race.

You felt the flip in your stomach and the butterflies in your chest, and you felt a shiver run down your spine, making you smile and causing your eyes to sparkle. You feared the pain you would feel when you woke up and discovered that all of this had been a dream.

But you were awake, and Joel Miller had his hand on your waist, and he was the most handsome man you had ever met in your life and... Well, he was your greatest passion, and you were going crazy.

Definitely fucking crazy. ...

You barely had time to cross the threshold before Joel pinned you against the wall, completely famished, while his lips, chilled and flushed pink from the cold, sought yours in the same state, making you moan in protest. Your breaths condensed inside the house, which was quite dark, illuminated only by the Christmas lights. He was quick to kick the door shut with a none-too-gentle thud, but you didn't care; his hands were all over your body, and you were completely desperate for him.   

The tension that had been building during dinner at your grandmother’s house during the touches, every time he followed you to the bathroom just to exchange looks whose meaning no one else could understand. The portrait of a gentleman you knew he were. The kindness implied in every action of his. 

The final straw seemed to be when you ended up sitting on his lap, watching your little cousins open their presents while Joel squeezed you far more than necessary, acting as if he had known you for years, as if you were an old couple who had shared a bed for decades. 

It was as if he had belonged to you forever.   

You understood that it would take much more than just a true connection. Years of therapy, dealing with all the losses, yes, but the moment he pulled off his sweater and groaned hoarsely in your ear, you forgot every dilemma living in your head at that moment.  

“Arms up, doll,” he whispered, removing your sweater the instant you promptly obeyed, leaving your pajama top exposed, revealing enough for him to realize you weren't wearing a bra. “Naughty girl, not wearin’ a damn bra f’me, I see it.” 

And it felt like a dream. 

Like all the things you had read a thousand times over, but this time, you were incredibly starved for him. You could already feel your body burning and your legs growing slightly weak, leading you to cling to Joel tightly, your sensitive breasts brushing against his chest. 

Joel hitched up your shirt just enough to take one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking the nipple and pulling at it hungrily, gripping your waist with his free hand with a strength that would surely leave a mark the next day. You moaned uninhibitedly, feeling the heat spread between your legs, and as if he were reading your mind, he lifted his knee slightly, making you feel his knee against your already wet cunt. 

You were both wearing jeans. It was too much fabric; you needed more, you needed his touch. You needed to feel Joel in every part of you, driving you completely out of your mind. It was as if fire were crackling and burning through you; in that instant, you moaned his name slowly, pleadingly.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Like this, ‘m gonna have to fuck ya’ and ‘m really tryin’ to be a gentleman and treat ya’ right.” Joel’s voice was nothing more than a hungry growl, and his cock was already straining against his jeans, drawing your curious fingers toward his zipper, but he shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Needy girl will take what I give. My rules now. Ya’ will ride my knee and cum for me when I say so.” 

“Joel… Please.” You moaned, completely surrendered, while your nails slid up and down his arms. But Joel made no move to remove the remaining pieces of clothing that felt like the biggest obstacle between you two; instead, he forced his knee against the middle of your legs again and you felt it just right, melting over him. 

“Yeah, just like this. Be good, doll, I might give ya’ some more. Show me what those things ya’ read ‘bout me taught you.” 

You began to move your hips with a purpose, feeling the seam of the jeans between your legs, feeling the thick fabric grow wetter while Joel’s hands went straight to your throat until you were completely breathless, only to release his grip slowly before delivering a sequence of slaps against your cheeks, leaving it tingling. You knew you liked these things, but as you ground your hips against his leg, you felt your body go up in flames with the real-life practice of it all. Of all the things you once fantasized.   

Joel grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him as he seemed to revel in your pleasure, his member cock harder than it was before, hoarse groans escaping his throat. It had been years, considering his life before, since he had touched a woman or made one feel the way you seemed to be feeling for him, and for him, it was like feeling alive again. The man would make you his in every corner of that house; he would fulfill every one of your fantasies, he would make you feel so good and just the mere thought of it made him delirious.

“Yes, Joel, please, it’s so good…” you moaned, your voice thick with longing under the pressure he applied, your cheeks burning as you searched for something to hold onto. He pressed his lips against yours in a hot, wet, and intense kiss, returning to massage your breasts, pinching your left nipple with his thumb while savoring your mouth in the most explicit way possible.

You could feel your orgasm building and tried to warn him, but Joel seemed even more determined to make you feel every possible sensation. You clung to him as if you were about to collapse, your fingers tangling in his salt-and-pepper curls, your breaths perfectly out of sync and ragged as you searched for more, and more, and more.

“Gonna fuck ya’ so good. Gonna fill ya’ with my milk and make ya’ a mama.” Joel moaned. “When I give ya’ this cock, I will fill ya’ with my cum and get you dripping it all over your legs for me, doll. It’ll sting so good, ya’ might never want to fuck with anyone else ‘ver again.” 

And that was enough to make every wall of your body tremble. 

Joel held immense power over you, and you couldn't even begin to deny it as your body shook with the most intense orgasm you had ever reached with someone's help. You tried to grind against his leg even more, trying to prolong the feeling, sensing the tears streaming down your face from the sheer weight of the stimulation.

He made sure you didn’t fall, but then he knelt in front of you, unzipping your jeans and dragging the fabric down with a certain aggressiveness. He didn't care about the delicate lace of your panties, and in a single, swift motion, he brushed the fabric aside before putting his tongue to work on your sensitive cunt, licking your orgasm as if you were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. You tried to close your legs, but he was holding you with a firm cruelty, making you moan in protest. 

“It took a fucking Christmas miracle to make ya’ cum properly, sweetheart. Now lemme clean what’s mine.” Joel mocked you. “Don’t ya’ worry ‘bout it. Gonna make sure ya’ feel whole for the rest of your days. Stuffed with my cock and melting over my tongue. Gonna fuck ya’ so good with this pretty belly of yours all swollen…” 

“Joel…” You moaned, already needy of him. Again. 

“Sure thing, doll. Let’s get ya’ upstairs.” 

PART 2