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lovethegenuine · 30 days ago

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Heaven Personified.

Chapter One: Uneventful Beginnings.

Pairing: no outbreak/widower!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: You're a newly graduated twenty-two year old that's recently just hauled ass down to southern Louisiana after your sister helped earn you a job offer for the local elementary while you live under her roof. However, the local lone wolf that works for your sister on her ranch and is especially cold towards you for some mysterious reason and you're determined to find out why.

Warnings: +18 (as always) Only thing that really needs a warning as of right now is that there's a twenty two year age gap. Eventual smut is on the way, however!

Notes: mmmmm joel imagery im so horny??? who said that.

Word count: 2.6k

Additional notes: Here's the playlist that goes along with this series! Enjoy :)

Being a brand new college graduate isn't the easiest thing to be when you're an adult. You learned this yourself when you earned your bachelor's degree in English.

You attended college up in Massachusetts near your hometown, where your parents supported you while achieving higher education. However, throughout your time in college, you felt a yearning within yourself grow. It was a distinct emotion you knew was brought on by the desire to escape. You never did enjoy your boring life at home. When your older sister eloped with her wife, you were left alone to live with your parents. Don't get it wrong, you loved your parents, but they weren't the liveliest pair of people. This only became more apparent after you graduated.

After a year of boring nights and odd jobs that weren't even close to your major, your sister called. You'd just gotten home after an uneventful shift at your local grocery store and had almost attempted to ditch the uniform when your ringtone ran out through your quiet home. Your parents had already gone to bed, so you quickly answered just to shut your phone up.

"Hello?" A familiar voice entered your ears as you dropped your keys on the coffee table in the living room.

It wasn't unorthodox for your older sister to call you out of the blue. Even after she'd been gone for nearly seven years, you both still had a good relationship. Sometimes she'd visit, but she preferred not to, given your parents' opinion on her marriage.

"Hey old bastard, what's up?" You responded with a certain sarcastic whimsy that had been carried all throughout your years of being siblings.

"I'll literally make you eat shit if you call me old again." She returned the energy with a flippant threat and a giggle.

After some small chatter about life and the health of your parents, she shot an offer your way, one that made you light up with a curious glow.

"Ah, so, I got an offer for you. They're short-staffed at the elementary here, and I know you've been struggling in the job market, so I told them you'd be perfect for the job as an English teacher."

"So, I'd be, like, a nepo baby?" You remarked.

"Not necessarily, well, listen. You can come live with me and the wife while you work and see if it's a match. I know it's not like you'd prefer it up there with the real old bastards." She was right.

However, the prospect of living down in the rural south sounded like hell. The bugs, the heat, the smell. In that moment, it didn't seem worth it for a job in your field. Before you could even think about a way you'd reject her offer, she spoke up again.

"And, I miss you." The genuine sincerity in your sister's voice made you fold instantly.

You suddenly found yourself putting in your two weeks and packing your things, hauling them into your sister's car. She'd graciously driven all the way out, back to your hometown after over twenty-nine hours and a night at a hotel just to transport you back to her state. If that didn't show how much she loved you, it's uncertain what would've.

"Any, uh, luck in the dating scene?" Your sister asked, her eyes never leaving the road.

You both were on the last leg of the trip, and this was her attempt at not only keeping you awake but also scoping out any personal details you neglected to tell her.

"You know I would've told you already." This was a genuine statement, as you seldom hid stuff from your sister.

Your eyes fluttered as you struggled to stay awake. Both of you booked a hotel in Kentucky for the night, but you didn't get much sleep with how anxious you were. New opportunities made you anxious. You didn't like the idea of starting off fresh, and while you'd done countless training sessions for becoming a teacher, those were all controlled scenarios. You'd now be put to the test with little to no help.

You instinctively frowned as your eyes closed completely while your body sank into the passenger seat. Before your sister could question your grievances, you fell asleep and dreamt up something quite odd.

Visions of various events flashed through your mind as your physical body relaxed into a peaceful state. Most of what you dreamt was anxiety ridden and made no sense, to no surprise. At some point, however, the setting of the dream started to become more stable. You didn't exactly remember how this section of the dream started, but when you looked down, you noticed a long glimmering fabric hugging your body. You were now wearing a dress—a shiny pink one. One that most little girls dream of wearing one day. The details of the dress were dulled from the dream, like how most clothes look when generated from AI, but you didn't feel the need to care. You then angled your head up, noticing how the room morphed into a ballroom balcony. A faint tap on your shoulder alerted you, provoking you to then turn around.

"What a beauty." A soft voice bellowed from the wavering figure in a black tuxedo. Their face was blacked out, or it was possible that you just couldn't remember their features.

Behind them, you could see open doors that led back to a glorious ballroom. The figure shifted closer to you, successfully blocking your view of the room.

"Focus on me, please." They pleaded gently. It wasn't a familiar voice at all, and before you could rack your brain for the real-life source, they spoke again.

"We're almost here." This time, the voice became more distorted as they kept repeating that same sentence.

You awoke rapidly in the passenger seat and bore a confused face as you yelped, "I'm awake!" Which sounded more like a question than an assertion.

"Woah, I'm sure you are, kiddo!" Your sister giggled as she used a gentle hand to guide your body back into your seat.

You let out a groggy sigh as your body relaxed again while your eyes shifted to the passenger side window. You were finally in the countryside, which wasn't exactly your lifelong goal, but it was ten times better than fishy Cape Cod or Nantucket—or maybe it wasn't. You were sure about to find out.

Flashes of green grass, lazy pastures, and quaint homes passed by your eyes as you visualized what your new life would be like. Tranquil? You'd be dealing with kids all day. Clean? Your sister works on a farm. Quiet? That's something you could definitely look forward to on your days off.

"Oh, maybe on your days off, you could help out with the livestock?"

Nevermind.

At least you had your sister, who spoiled you and took care of you for the majority of your life. That's something you knew you'd always look forward to.

"You don't have to, though, so don't feel pressured! I just am always working, and maybe it'd be a good way to bond." Your sister had a sheepish-looking smile when she tried to take back the offer. You could tell she felt a little guilty for that suggestion.

"Well, how else will I earn my keep?" You reassured her.

The tense grip she had on the wheel relaxed, as well as her entire body. Truthfully, it had been a while since you both hung out, not over the phone, so she was trying not to bore you with her lifestyle.

Your eyes glanced to the front of the road as you noticed a lovely ranch in the distance. Taking a small look at the porch, you noticed a cushioned bench, along with tons of different potted plants. It was pretty, not to mention just well-maintained overall.

"Is that yours?" You questioned while pointing to the home.

"That would be it, yes." Your sister affirmed softly.

The car continued to roll down the road until it hit the driveway. Its tires slid across the gravel before coming to a complete stop.

"I believe the wife isn't home, so why don't I give you a tour of the house before we unpack the car?" Your sister suggested while putting the car in park.

You nodded your head in agreement as you began to unbuckle yourself.

"I also think Joel is working on the farm, tending to the horses today too, so you'll be able to meet him."

Your eyebrows instinctively furrowed as you froze before you opened the passenger side door.

Am I just supposed to know who Joel is? You thought to yourself as you angled your head towards your sister, who was already out of the car and headed to your side.

Your eyes continued to follow her as you exited the car as well. Her gentle smile faded as she furrowed her brows as well out of confusion.

"What?" She bluntly questioned, looking around awkwardly.

"Joel?" You remarked, insinuating your puzzlement.

"Oh! Sorry. That's my coworker, or, technically, my employee. He's worked with me since he moved here. Not much of the chatty type, but his work ethic is good." Your sister shrugged as she then waved her hand, signaling you to follow her.

Her house was what you'd expect any ranch to feel like. Open, warm, and comforting. You could tell which interior choices were from the influence of your sister versus her wife. Your sister had always been the rustic type, while her wife was a green thumb. There was a buck deer head mounted on the wall with two horseshoes on either side. It was masculine, much like your sister. On the other hand, the living room floor was lined with an Aztec print rug that fit perfectly under their coffee table, which housed at least three different house plants.

You were able to see the couple's differences in interior decoration displayed in various rooms as your sister showed you around. However, it was refreshing to see how they complemented each other. It made you jealous, and you weren't exactly thrilled at whatever third-wheel shenanigans you'd be put into. Nevertheless, you were happy to finally live with your sister, so you knew any qualms would be worth your while.

You and your sister finally neared the end of her house tour as she led you to the back deck. It was beautifully decorated, and the view was even more stunning. You could see everything from there, like the chicken coop, the cornfield, and the cattle. What was most noticeable to you was the horse stables, specifically the person standing with his back to both of you near the stables.

Your sister was busy showcasing all of the different buildings that were littered around her farm, until her eyes fell on the man as well.

"Oh shit, that's him!" Your sister exclaimed, and without a beat, she called him over.

"Joel!" She shouted with a certain excitement that was tangible to you and presumably the man she'd called out to.

He turned only half of his back to face you and your sister, but that was more than enough. His rugged face was the first thing you noticed. The years that passed by in his life definitely took plenty of time aging him just right. This was apparent by the stern fine lines that had carved themselves into his face. You could tell he'd displayed every emotion one could ever have. In other words, it was easy to gauge his experience through his face. He gave you a stare that you could tell wasn't out of malice, but to make his acute awareness distinguishable. He was taking you in just as you were him. Maybe not in the way you were drinking his appearance like water, but he was reading you nonetheless.

His sleeves were rolled up halfway, exposing the arm hair that hugged his tan skin. His muscles were ever so slightly defined by the casual button-up that was soaked from the sweat that glazed his body. You'd never been the type to gawk at men, especially those twice your age. However, in that moment, you felt rabid. Like you'd been starved all your life, and this man was the only meal that could satiate your hunger. You wanted to kiss the scar that ran slightly under the radix of his nose, to run your fingers through his hair, to caress his scruffy beard. You wanted to take him in physically and also mentally.

Your face felt like it was going to melt as he smiled at your sister. Whether it was more of an appeasement grin or a genuine smile, you couldn't tell. You were just happy to know how his lips looked when curled. You felt a smile of your own creep up on your face, and he began walking up to your sister and you.

"You never told me he was hot." You panicked through your teeth.

"Excuse me?" Your sister yelped while turning to you, appalled.

"Oh, right. You're gay." You shot back without hesitation.

Before your sister could become any more offended, Joel had made his way to you both and spoke.

"Glad to see you back so early. Is that the little sister?" He asked while gently pointing to you.

His voice was low and slightly rough. It's what you'd expect any older man's voice to sound like, but that didn't take away from his charm. He also had an accent, but you couldn't decipher where it was from. Possibly Texas, or maybe Tennessee. Regardless of the location, you still loved it. Maybe a bit too much.

Your sister confirmed his observation and gave him your name. You would have preferred to give him your name yourself and felt a tad moody at the loss of an interaction, but when he turned to you again and repeated your name back to you, it made you go blank. Not to mention the fact that he gave you a grin while taking your hand to shake. It's like he knew what he was doing to you.

He didn't actually. You knew it was formalities, but for the time being, you'd like to believe that he was subtly trying to court you.

You naturally returned his greeting with a sweet face as your sister spoke up.

"Yup. She's gonna be one of the new teachers down at the elementary." She announced proudly while looking honored to be your sibling.

However, upon hearing your new line of work, Joel dropped your hand and his smile. If you hadn't been so enthralled with him, you might not have even noticed his slight shift in behavior, but you did.

"Oh." He flatly remarked while putting his head down while giving you both a now strained smile.

Your sister was about to start bragging about you again until Joel cut her off.

"I really have to get back to my work. Mind if we do this another time?" It was unconvincing to you, but you knew your sister wouldn't push it, and she didn't.

You both watched as he trudged back to his work, leaving both you and her confused.

"Well, I guess that just proves what I said." She shrugged as she waltzed back into the house, leaving you to gaze longingly at Joel, wondering what had changed.

You sighed, a little disappointed that your first encounter was awkward. Especially since you wanted to make a good impression. You eventually left to join your sister inside, but you knew you'd not only be thinking about that interaction, but Joel overall would be stuck on your mind all day.

And that's something you worried about.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #old man joel #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #pedropascal #joelmiller #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓼' ˳ ⠀ ❀⠀⠀ little library.#figs' fanfiction

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slowdrawl · 4 months ago

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Shear Luck | joel miller x f!reader | [masterlist] {18+ minors DNI}

|part 1| The first cut is the deepest |2.5k words| Joel Miller, single dad, came into your salon for a haircut, but he never expected to leave with a crush. Sarah's alive, tension's are high, the jokes are bad and the chemistry is crazy!

Fluff ?✔️ Slow burn? ✔️ Age gap? ✔️ Puns? ✔️

sprinkle in a little bit of smut 🔥 and dbf!joel energy and BOOM. You got this sweet-feel good fic.

“What’re we doin’?” You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.” |A/N| I was at work today blowdrying my clients hair and this storyline came to mind, I thought I'd end up just doing a one-shot but when I started writing I immediately fell in love with these two, so I decided it would span over a few shorter chapters. I hope any of you that stumble across this love them too.

Warnings: Mild language, flirting, fluff, puns, age gap (Joel's 38, reader's 23). eventual smut, daddy kink (if you squint) alcohol use.

It’s Saturday, your back is screaming, feet killing you from two kids haircuts after a marathon balayage, you’re hunched over like a gremlin, salon empty now. It’s just you, sweeping up glitter-dusted hair. You’re beat, the clock is mocking you, and you don’t remember the last time you ate, or if you ate today at all. You check the clock, 5:45 fifteen more minutes till close, “finally” you mumble to yourself. Your phone has 4 missed calls and 5 missed texts, half of them probably trying to get a last-minute appointment.

Who the fuck takes walk-ins on Saturday?

The door chimes open and you curse under your breath, turning to face the front desk; you throw on your best customer service face and stop dead—oh.

The fake customer service face drops and turns into something a hell of a lot more sincere when you see him.

The gentleman that just walked in is your type, tall, rugged as hell—medium-length wildly curling hair that’s got a few silver streaks right at the temples. His beard is patchy like he's been at it with dull scissors, and he’s got a flannel thrown on over a faded Pink Floyd tee paired with dark-wash jeans—covered in sawdust no doubt. He looks tired and devastatingly handsome, he's probably got a decade on you at least. You can smell the pine on him from the front door.

He walks in quietly towards the front desk, looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I need uh—you got time for one more cut?” His eyes lift from the floor to meet yours, big, round, and coffee brown.

“Only if you say please,” you give him a smirk, “and you gotta give me your phone number first.”

He freezes for a second, looking back at you and cocking his head to the side, eyebrow raised, half-confused, half-intrigued. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he gets a chance.

“Need to put you into the computer system,” you say with a wink clicking open a new client profile.

You watch as his face relaxes, shoulders drop, he breathes out half a chuckle before saying “It’s Joel, Joel Miller,” handing it off to you like you’ve won something.

He gives you his phone number and you type it into the system, setting him up a profile.

“Alright, big guy, looks like you’re officially my last victim of the week, come on in,” you smile and gesture towards the salon, walking behind your chair and patting the leather seat. “Okay, let's see what we’re working with then, sit”

His boots shuffle across the laminate and he sits down heavy into the chair, slouching down low, without you needing to ask him to.

Thank god, my shoulders are already screaming.

You pick up a comb and start raking through the mess on his head, coarse, wavy, dark hair speckled with, you guessed it. Sawdust.

“What’re we doin’? You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.

You can see he’s exhausted, his voice is flat and rough.

“Sounds good to me, turnin’ water into wine costs extra though, that alright?” You try to crack his shell but he just stays silent.“Tough crowd, damn—okay—rough day cowboy?”

“Somethin’ like that, rough week,” he replies, looking at the mirror, avoiding your gaze.

You start trimming, keeping it longer, it looks good on him. “Well you’re in luck, I’m about to make it a lot worse! You get to end it with my bad jokes!” You grin, trying to get him to bite but he still doesn't, you’ll get him though.

“Why’d the client tip extra?” Silence. You snip louder, “The bangs were a real blast— get it?”

His lips twitch, just barely but you’ve almost got it so you barrel on. “how about: I told my last client he had a head like a bowling ball—smooth and full of holes… Yeah, he didn’t laugh either.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth—finally, a low rumble of a laugh breaks through, and you beam. “There it is! Thanks for humoring me. I like to think of this gig as more than haircuts—it’s dinner and a show, except there’s no dinner, no show, and most folks leave thinking, ‘What the fuck’s wrong with her?’ But they always come back.”

He chuckles again, deeper this time, shaking his head. “You should do comedy,” he says, voice gravelly, warming up.

“Yeah, you know I tried stand-up for a bit,” you say, grabbing the trimmers to get the few stray hairs on his collar. “Realized I’m more of a sit-down girl—better at bad puns than punchlines.” You place your hands on his shoulders and squeeze, “Wash time.”

“Nah, don’t need that, 'm fine” he protests.

“Not askin, Mr. Miller, I’m tellin. Come on let's go, move it.”

He gets out of the chair with a groan, and you walk him over to the shampoo sink, guiding his head down into the bowl, dragging your nails slightly up his neck as you do it. “Hairs like a sawdust magnet by the looks of it.” You turn the water on and let it trickle over his hair, grabbing some ‘manly’ shampoo, tea tree, and mint instead of flowers or grapefruit, or whatever other girly shampoo you’ve got on the back bar.

You massage slow circles into his head, lightly scratching your fingernails into his scalp, a soft grunt escaping despite himself. The radio’s blasting dad rock, Springsteen, maybe—and he mutters, “Good taste,” voice lazy now. Unsurprising, doesn't usually take long to make em’ end up like putty in your hands.

“Only the best for my VIPs,” you tease, massaging longer than necessary, watching his jaw slacken. He fuckin’ loves it, you can tell—but he’d never admit it. You rinse, towel him off, and bring him over to the chair again. “Gotta style it now,” you use a paste, sweeping it back and off to the side, sharp but not like a cop. “Beard next,” you say, grabbing clippers, and he stiffens.

“Ain’t gotta—” he starts but you’re already in his space, getting halfway between his legs for a closer look, combing it out. His breath hitches for a second, rough stubble under your fingers, your chest brushing against his shoulders. You feel him tense, anxious, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Relax, Joel, I’m a pro,” you murmur, trimming it neat, square along his jaw, full but tamed, “At least that’s what everyone keeps tellin’ me.” Up close he’s gorgeous, like he was carved out of stone, but still soft. Lines jagged, dark eyes—you step back, smirking.”Okay, done. You outta’ pay me double for making you look so good, wife’s gonna be one happy lady!”

He stands up, rubbing his jaw, checks over himself in the mirror and smiles, barely but he smiles. “No wife to impress, my kids gonna be happy though, she was gettin’ embarrassed to be seen with me.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Double huh?” he says, handing you two twenties instead of one, a real grin tugging at his lips now; showing off a dimple in his cheek. “Fair.” He lingers, eyes on you for a beat too long.

“See you next time, cowboy, nice meetin’ you,” you yell at him as he heads for the door, boots scuffing, leaving you buzzing.

Later when you’re at home you lay on the couch watching SNL with your dad, you pull out your phone to shoot off a text to your friend Kim.

(9:45PM)

You: Hot older dude, probably mid/late 30’s idk im guessing, came in today. quiet, sexy as hell, laughed at my stupid jokes.

(9:49PM)

Kim: ok!!!! 🤔🤔he tip big??

(9:49PM)

You: yup, im fucked! 😩

(9:50PM)

Kim: i mean… lets hope you are, eventually at least 😉

You smile down at your phone, replaying your interaction with Joel. He feels familiar, but you can’t place your finger on it so you shrug it off—probably just a regular type, lotta’ blue-collar guys in Austin.

Two Weeks Later

It’s Saturday again, your booking system’s got “Sarah M., trim + straighten” in midday. A 10-year-old bounces in, curly hair a mess, and trailing behind her is none other than Joel, hands in his damn pockets again.

“She wants it straight,” he says, low with a hint of flirtiness to it, winking when Sarah’s not looking. “I’d probably fuckin’ burn her tryin’.”

“Smart man,” you laugh, settling her into the chair. She’s chatty—her eyes shining as you flat-iron her hair, turning her curls into sleek waves instead.

“It’s like you’ve got magic in your hands!” she squeals, twirling it, and you laugh.

“You wanna be a hairdresser now, kid?” you ask, and she nods, beaming. Joel just watches, leaning against the counter, smirking.

Sarah groans, “Dad stop staring at her, you’re being weird,” but she giggles anyway.

You give Joel a wink and shake your head at him “dang, Joel, called out tryina’ flirt by your kid, you need to step up your game old man.”

When Sarah's hair is sufficiently straight, and the ends are trimmed neat she rushes out to the truck, making sure to swipe about 6 lollipops on her way past the front desk. Joel lingers again, voice dropping down low. “You do house calls, darlin’”

You grin, leaning close. “You wish cowboy. Gotta take me to dinner first at least.”

“That so?” he drawls, stepping nearer, invading your space, eyes glinting. “You’d wanna be seen in public with an old man like me?

“First of all, don’t even know how old you are, wouldn't exactly call you an old man. Secondly, try me.” you shoot back, and he chuckles.

“38, probably old enough to be your daddy.” he laughs, “and you?”

“Didn’t take you as the kinda guy to be into that,” you reply with a wink, leaning in just a bit closer.

Okay brave, we see you, girl, make him sweat!

You continue, “I’m 23, my dad’s still got a few years on you.”

You see watch him swallow and his eyes widen, jaw opens like he's about to say something but can’t.

He just bites his lip, like he doesn't want to regret what might come ou,t he gives you a nod and turns on his heels to the door. But before he leaves he stops for a second to look back and says “You don’t know much ‘bout me darlin’, not yet,” smiling again, he adds “I’ll think about that dinner,” and he’s gone.

Another week and Joe’s back again, showing up at the end of the day; just as you’re about to clock out. His hair is a little wild again, beard creeping back to chaos, clothes a mess—that rough handsomeness hitting you like a brick.

“I thought you’d be closed,” he says, rubbing his neck like hes almost embarrassed to be there. “Got a thing this weekend,” settling into your chair. “Make me extra pretty.” He jokes, actually jokes with you, how rare!

“I think most of us have ‘a thing’ this weekend, fourth of July n’ all,” you tease. “Hot date or what?” Sit down, handsome, ill make you into a real heartbreaker.

He grunts, settling in, body too big for the space, cape snapping as you drape it over him.

He snorts, eyes meeting yours in the mirror, dark and steady, maybe with a flicker of something in thiem. “No date, just a…thing. Don’t need Sarah to give me shit about lookin’ like a caveman.”

His tone is casual, but theres a dodge there, you let it slide, snipping away.

“Big, brooding, Joel Miller—so mysterious,” you say, hovering close, breath brushing his ear as you cut. “Thank god you’ve god me, huh?” you flash him a grin and he chuckles, warm, loosening up.

“Capes a little tight darlin’, you tryin to choke me?” he says, hooking a finger in the front of the cape. You undo the snaps and let out a low chuckle.

“Sorry honey, didn’t mean to, usually charge extra for that.” You say real low, giving him a wink.

“Ah, theres that comedian comin’ out again.” he says, voice dipping a bit, “Keepin’ me entertained.” His hand shifts under the cape, brushing your thigh—accidental, maybe? But he doesn't move it fast, and your heart jumps.

You tidy up the sides, cutting half an inch off the top.

“Okay let's go wash it, no fighting,” you say ripping the cape off. You bring him back to the sink and lean him back, scratching his nape with your fingernails a little rougher than last time, purposeful, just to see him shiver. You wash, fingers deep in his scalp, massaging watching his gruff expression melt away, noticing how the frown line between his brows softens.

He exhales a groan, and it makes you smirk, “Purrin’ again, huh? I got you hooked now.”

“Keep dreamin',’’ he mutters, weak—lazy, his hands unclench in his lap. You hum along to the radio, Led Zepplin, this time Ramble On low in the background.

You bring him back to the chair and style it, a little slicker this time, more pomade.

“There, now if you don't get too crazy tonight, this might stay lookin' good till tomorrow,” you say, “beard needs a bit of work still.” You clean up his neckline, and trim his mustache, leaning in extra close this time to get a good look—or maybe for him to get a good look—you wore a lowcut shirt today. You tilt his chin up and catch him swallowing—hard, adams apple bobbing, his dark eyes flicking up to you. You feel the heat of him under his stubble.

“Careful.” He warns, drawl low, but he doesn't pull away.

“Always am,” you murmur, cleaning up his neckline, and framing it up just right. You oggle again. He’s stupidly good looking, smile lines, plush lips, faint scars, coffee eyes—and you step back, smirking. “There, too pretty for your own damn good, owe me double again”

“You’re a magician,” he says, handing you forty bucks again with a flirty “worth it.’

“Damn straight,” you say, leaning against the counter, knee brushing his thigh, close, casual, but the air’s thick now. “So, this ‘thing’—gonna tell me, or keep me guessing?”

“You’ll figure it out, darlin’. You’re a smart girl,” his hand hovers near yours nearly touching it, then it drops. “See you around, be good.” and he leaves.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t sulk a little when he left, no mention of dinner, no ‘house call’ comment to be heard.

You’ll live, girl calm down.

You immediately text Kim again.

(7:03PM)

You: DILF strikes again, i need him biblically. 😩

You laugh at yourself as you flick off the open sign and head for the door, heart still racing from that damn smirk of his.

(7:07PM)

Kim: oh you’re down BAD bad huh? I need to see this guy 😂

You lock up, grinning like an idiot, wondering if Joel Miller’s worth all this trouble.

Spoiler: he probably is.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel #dbf!joelmiller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #tlou smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #tlou x reader #tlou au

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pintobug · 2 months ago

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band-aids & boots

dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

A/N: hi. first time posting something i’ve written!! woah! i hope someone gets to read it. i can’t stop consuming dbf!joel content so heres my way of coping!! a one shot!!(?)! also i apologize in advance for the layout & any editing mistakes. please have grace for me <3

Summary: Halloweekend. Your dads street hosting its annual block party & everyones dressed up for the costume contest!

Rating: 18+ MDNI !!!!

Word count: 11.8k oops

Tags: dbf!joel, protective!joel, joel dressed as a cowboy, duh, aka just a hat and his regular get up. smut, porn with little plot, pining, age gap (reader ~25 Joel is late 40s early 50s), fem!reader, p in v, fingering (f receiving), established secret relationship, use of pet names, dirty talk, dom!joel, sub!reader, spit kink, he slaps her (she loves it)

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The street was alive, smoke rising from the grills planted in almost everyone’s driveway, music spilling out of cracked windows and booming from speakers across the way. Kids darting by in costumes and neighbors laughing too loud over cheap beer and folding tables. You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath through your nose. The smell wafting from outside was comforting. The annual Halloween block party.

You smoothed your palms over your torso, ridding of any wrinkles in your costume. You tilted your head while you watched yourself in the full length mirror.

Your body clad in a white dress, the buttons in the front coming to rest just between your breasts. The red, lacy bra top exposed. Your eyes fell down your legs, covered in thin, white stocking material until your mid thigh. Your hands fumbled with the skirt of your dress, reaching up to grab the strap of the white garter belt you had beneath the costume, clipping it to keep your thigh highs in place. You repeated this on the other thigh.

Hair tied into a low, messy ponytail, pulling strands out to frame your face. Small, white costume hat with a fat red cross in the middle sat off center the top of your head. Your eyelids are packed with a pale blue shadow, lined with black and finished with thick mascara. Red lips, and rosy cheeks to match.

Damn.

You thought. You’re pretty fucking close to the real thing. Just missing one thing. You pulled a skin tight blue latex glove over your one hand, letting it snap against your skin.

You smiled contently at yourself, wiggling your toes against the floor in excitement. This wasn’t for you. None of this was for you actually, despite how fucking good it felt to have this on. It was for Joel. It’s been two agonizing weeks since you’ve last seen him.

It’s always- “Sorry, baby. Your dad’s keepin’ me late at work tonight. No slippin’ away.” and not- “F’course I’ll come over and do away with the nagging between your thighs. Right away, baby.”

You could roll your eyes right now just at the thought. But this. This is good enough revenge for now, you figured. ‘Nurse from the Blink-182 Album’ You know. Enema of the State. Joel doesn’t give a shit about Blink-182. But he will give a huge fuck about you in this outfit. Your stomach turns at the thought.

You peer over to the red heels lying outside your closet door and you think about it long and hard. But theres absolutely no fucking way you’re trudging through gravel drive ways in them. You bend down, hooking your fingers into your old pair of white converse.

These’ll do.

You slip them on and turn to the steps, bouncing down them.

———

Joel sucked on the toothpick between his lips, bringing a hand up to tilt the cowboy hat upon his head, bringing it forward slightly. He sighed, leaning against the wall of your front porch. Tommy and your father opposite him, backs to the street. Your father lazily flips burgers around on the grill.

He was trying to act normal- laugh when he should, nod when Tommy or your father told him a story- but it was damn impossible with you prancing around the front yard like that.

Tight, short nurse’s dress. Red lipstick he was dying to smear. Skin tight stockings clinging to your thighs and- fuck. The garter belt clip that keeps them there.

You were laughing, handing out beers to some of the neighbors who sat in lawn chairs. The hair framing your face blowing softly in the cool wind. Joel tightened his jaw, hard enough that he snapped the toothpick between his molars. He spat it to the side with a grunt, beer warming in his tight grip.

Your dad, dressed in a pirate costume- hat, eyepatch, and all- was eating it up. “That’s my girl!” He shouted, holding his beer up, tilted towards you as he laughed. “Ain’t she somethin’? I barely gotta host ‘round here now that she's home.” He raised his eyebrows, bringing his beer to his lips for a long sip.

Joel forced a grin through a strained jaw . “Yeah.” he muttered under his breath, “She’s somethin’ alright.”

Tommy gently jabbed his elbow into his older brothers. “Man, you look like you’re in pain or somethin’. Y’alright?” Tommy turned his head towards Joel.

Joel mirrored him, giving him a once over before chuckling and shaking his head. “M’fine. Can’t take you serious with-“ Joel gestured his beer towards his kid brother. “All’at.”

Tommy furrowed his thick brows, lips falling to fein offense. “You barely got a damn costume on. You ain’t winning shit, Joel. I came to win, mother fucker.” He spoke coolly, taking a step back to let your dad and Joel get a good look at his costume.

Tommy had a pair of khakis on, dark green long sleeved shirt, and a black rubber apron tied over his torso, his face splattered with blood and some more dripping down the apron. Laminated I.D badge slung around his neck: ‘Dexter Morgan.’ Fake knife hanging from his belt.

“I ain’t peg you for a Dexter fan, Tommy.” Your dad quipped while shaking his head at the two brothers.

“Eddie, y’look like you’re fresh off’tha damn Black Pearl.” Joel chuckled, Tommy dropping his smug look to laugh alongside him.

“Ain’t no damn.. Jack Sparrow.” Your dad laughed, taking some burgers off of the grill, placing them on a platter. “Just any fuckin’ pirate. The two a’yous piss me off.” He joked, sucking his teeth.

“Baby! C’mere!” Your dad called, your head snapped at his shout.

You came quickly, bounding over to the three men.

“You lot doin’ alright?” You beamed, eyes lingering on Joel for just a moment longer.

He looked fucking good. When didn’t he, though. His blue jeans snug around his thighs, fell neatly around his booted feet. It looks like he polished them recently. His dark navy flannel, nothing new, you’ve seen it on him thousands of times but it always looks just as good. Buttoned almost to the top, two spaces left undone, few dark, wiry hairs peeking over the snug, white beater he had on underneath. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his arm visible as his hand gripping a beer bottle tighter and tighter. You swallowed thickly as your eyes moved slowly to meet his eyes. You’d probably be drooling if it weren’t for your dad and Tommy standing between you and Joel. The air felt thicker than usual. His eyes were dark and stoic, burning into your body. His dark hair was peppered with grey at his hairline, curling at his ears and the nape of his neck more than the rest. And fuck- that damn cowboy hat.

“We’re doin’ just fine, baby.” Your dad nodded, then gestured towards the plate of burgers he had just pulled off the grill, a sorry smile on his face.

“Would y’mind runnin’ these around and offerin’ them up?” He asked, a sing-song tone in his voice, trying to persuade you.

You laughed softly and shook your head. “I gotcha. Wouldn’t want hostin’ to interrupt your boy time.” You poked at him before grabbing the tray.

You gestured the tray towards your dad, then Tommy, letting them take what they’d like.

“Want some?” You questioned Joel, looking up to him through your thick lashes.

His lips turned, almost grimaced at the way his stomach twisted. “Not hungry f’that right now.” He muttered emotionless.

Your face flooded with heat, you’d be surprised if it couldn’t be felt 10 feet away. You’d nod your head and turn quickly before you jumped his bones. You could feel his eyes bore into the back of your head, following you as you’d walk down the porch steps and back to the yard, smiling and offering up the food on the platter.

Tommy took a bite of his burger, settling next to his brother. Your dad stood and started cleaning the grill. Tommy mentioned something about the Rangers, but didn’t get an answer from Joel. He whipped his head over, narrowing his eyes to follow Joel's eye-line once he realized Joel was too preoccupied to pay the slightest attention.

Tommy hummed in amusement when he saw you, holding your tray, bent at the waist and chatting with a neighbor sitting in a lawn chair.

“You’re starin’ awful hard at Eddie’s girl.” Tommy said low, nudging Joel with his elbow. “You got a thing for nurses now, old man?” Tommys got a sick grin on his face despite chewing on his last bite on the burger.

Joel gave him a sharp look. “Drop it, Tommy.” He spat.

Tommy held his hands up in defeat, chuckling lowly. “Alright, alright.”

“Need a beer.” Joel said, jaw tight.

“You offering?” Eddie quipped.

“Nope.” Joel popped the ‘p’ while pushing himself off the wall, heading through the front door of the house.

——

The noise of the block party muffled as you walked through the back door, the tray now empty as you had made your rounds. You stopped in there to wash up quickly and grab more beers. You were halfway into the fridge when a rough hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, yanking you around.

Joel.

He was towering over you, his hat shadowing his dark eyes, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Up close he smelled like beer, smoke, and the lingering warmth of October air. It was dizzying.

“You tryin’a kill me, baby?” he muttered, a deep rumble, only for you to hear.

“What? M’just celebrating.” You fiend innocence as Joel backed you up against the counter top, the cold granite pressing into the middle of your back. His body is just inches from yours.

His eyes lowered to your lips, then to trace the obscene outline of your costume. The curve of your thighs, the way your chest nearly spilled out of the tight, low neckline.

“You’ve got no idea what you’re doin’ t’me, sweetheart..” He breathed out, pushing his hips forward, into yours.

He leaned down, breath hot against your ear. “No fuckin’ clue.”

You did have a clue. You felt it as clear as day pressing into your lower stomach as he kept you pinned at the counter, his fingers flexing against your wrist while his other hand brushed over your side. Your lips parted, a soft sigh falling against his collar when his hand gripped your side, pulling you against him.

“Maybe I do.” You teased, whispering soft against his skin, lips pursed just under his ear, pressing a kiss there.

A low groan rumbled in the back of Joel's throat, hand that was wrapped around your wrist leaving to cup your jaw, his broad palm splayed across the front of your neck. His thumb and middle finger pressing gently into your jaw bone, his index finger tapping the apple of your cheek once. His grip wasn’t harsh but it was strong, your face squished slightly. You’d blink quickly while looking up to him through your heavy lids, your stomach twisting and turning with heat.

“You keep pushin’,” He growled through a tight jaw. “N’ I’m not waitin’ ‘til later to put you in your place.”

You swallowed thickly, he could feel your throat flex under his warm palm.

“You understand me, pretty girl?” He leaned back a bit to get a better view of you, his hand giving your jaw a squeeze, his other hand slipping from your side to your lower back, pulling your hips flush against his.

Your eyes hooded, he barely touched you and you already look so fucked. You couldn’t help but crumble at his touch, he’s too calculated. He knows when to push, when to pull. Where to touch, where to grip, then to soothe it after. It makes your head spin.

On cue, his thumb shifted, rubbing small circles into your back where he guesses the corner of the counter was just jabbing you.

You squirmed beneath his gaze, it only brought a sly smirk to the corners of his full lips. You’d nod the best you can against his hand. He sucked his teeth sharply.

“Words, baby.” He raised his eyebrows waiting for your response, his tongue darting to wet his lips quickly.

The sight made you squeeze your thighs together, searching for any sort of friction to relieve the growing pit in your stomach. Just that short lived glimpse of his tongue was enough to fill your mind with gut churning flashbacks of his head between your thighs, his salt and pepper curls tickling your skin while that tongue lapped at you endlessly. His eyes were dark under heavy lids as he studied your face. His thumb lifted from your jaw and hovered over your lower lip, instinctively you parted them. Your eyes stayed locked on his, though his were now centered at your mouth. Slowly he pressed the pad of his thick thumb into the swell of your lower lip, then dragged it to the side, smearing the bright red lipstick over to the corner of your mouth.

What the fuck.

Your knees wobble. If he wasn’t holding you so closely they’d buckle and you’d fall right to them in front of him, beg him to let you take him in your mouth right there, in your kitchen, with the entire street just a wall away.

Tommy, just a wall away.

Your dad, just a wall away.

“Lemme hear ya’.” His voice snapped you out of your daze. Thick and syrupy against your buzzing ear drums.

“Y-Yeah. I understand.” You finally choke out, embarrassed at how pathetic you must sound.

He smirked, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he stood himself up straight, his hand behind your back steadying your wobbling frame- so used to his weight being held against it already. He sighed softly, hand leaving your jaw to slap his three, thick, middle fingers against your cheek. It wasn’t hard, just a love tap. But enough to leave your skin burning, to match the feeling between your thighs.

“Good.” He smiles. “Get back outside.” He mutters. “‘fore I do somethin’ stupid.”

It pained him to let you go at that moment. But you cleared your throat, nodding your head while bringing your own gloved thumb up to your mouth, pressing the pad against the flat of your tongue. Then swiping it below your bottom lip, cleaning up the lipstick he had smeared just a moment prior.

You turned to leave, smoothing your hands down your costume and taking a few steps when he cleared his throat, his feet still haven’t moved from their spot.

“Don’t forget the beer, baby girl.” He’d remind you, a sly, lopsided smile on his lips.

Fuck, what the fuck. Your brain is mush.

His stupid smile made your stomach contort. You trudged back the few fews, swinging the fridge open and grabbing as many in your arms as you could.

“You’re a real ass.” You grumbled before turning your back to him, cheeks hot while walking back out the back door.

Joel was left standing there, a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding, forcing itself from his lips as you pushed the door shut. His fists clenched at his sides, doing all he can to not follow you like a mad man.

——

It was incredibly hard to host while your brain buzzed with Joel. You tried your best with keeping up with conversation, but you weren’t retaining any of it. A ditsy smile on your lips, nodding and uh-huh’ing when it seemed right. You couldn’t focus on anything else other than him. Hell, most of the time your eyes were scanning the yard to make sure he was still here, still close. You were impatient and needy. You had half the mind to drag him away from Tommy and right up to your room, deal with all the bullshit fallout after. A hand on your shoulder made your body jump.

You heard your name behind you.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya.” The boy snickered, shoving your shoulder a bit.

Your shoulders relaxed when you saw Cody.

“Me? Didn’t scare me.” You laughed softly while opening your arms and pulling him into a hug, then holding him out in front of you to get a good look.

“My, my. New York did you well. You’re even taller n’ me now!” You whistled and laughed.

Cody grew up only a few houses down from yours. You both graduated high school together. You were close while growing up but amicably went separate ways when you both went off to college. Cody went to Columbia. Boy was smart as a whip. Lacked in common sense, but book smart. You’d seen him once the first summer after you both went away at a big BBQ with some of the neighbors.

He was cute, thinner build with a boyish face, could barely grow facial hair. The hair in his head was a dirty blonde and all over the place, curling at the ends. Cute. The both of you ended up getting quite drunk and had a half assed make out session on a tire swing in his backyard, and went your separate ways again to school. He texted you a week after that.

——

‘guess i’m not a good enough kisser to get a text? hahah’

You remember cringing as you saw the notification light up your phone.

‘knew i was drunk, but didn’t think i was that drunk!’

You played it off as a joke. You didn’t like him like that. You were drunk, young and lonely at the time.

——

You still don’t like him like that. But he was always a decent friend to you.

Cody nodded his head. Still had his bouncy blonde hair, but it was restrained under a hat.

“Race car driver, huh?” You smiled and tapped his arm before dropping your arms at your own sides.

“Oh absolutely. Last thing the store had in stock.” He joked while picking at the costume. “You look real good tonight,” Cody said eagerly. “Way too good to be hangin’ ‘round a dad party.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, taking a small step back. You didn’t expect him to be so forward. You laughed politely, wrapping your arms around your torso.

“Well, thanks Cody.” You said quietly, lips in a kind smile.

Joel and Tommy were leaning against your dads truck in the driveway. Tommy going on and on about the homeowner for the new job they just picked up, how bossy and nit-picky she is. Joel isn’t absorbing a lick of this. His dark eyes are shooting daggers into Cody.

“Maybe after things wind down..” Cody continued, his voice low as he leaned into your ear. “We could find a real party?”

You physically cringed. Is this really what guys your age thought was smooth?

No sweet talking? No soft looks and hot whispers?

No Joel.

They weren’t Joel.

Joel was smooth.

He was sweet and slow when he wanted to be. He was collected, stoic but melted in your hands when you were alone. As dominant as he was, you always had the final say. He’d do anything for you. He’d kneel before you and make you finish twice with his mouth before bending you over and fuck you until tears spilled down your cheeks. Then he’d kiss them away, rub your back and whisper-

‘s good baby. pretty girl. ‘s alright darlin’ i’m here. y’took my cock so well, s’like your made for m-’

Cody cleared his throat, pulling you from your thoughts. You still didn’t answer him.

Oops.

Your eyes were wide as you scanned his face, and could barely remember what he asked. It had to be clear as day because he repeated, placing his hand on your shoulder, slowly rubbing it down your arm to grip your elbow.

“Wanna find a real party later?” He repeated.

Joel wanted to take the beer bottle in his hand right now and crack it over this kids thick fucking skull.

“Kids bad news.” Tommy strains through his mouth full of beer, gesturing to Cody.

“What?” Joel snapped, he swore his blood ran cold.

“M’kiddin’. He’s a fuckin’ dork.” Tommy chuckles, his words slurring.

Joel rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the truck, taking a step towards the two of you only to be stopped by a strong arm pushing against his torso. Tommy almost choked on his beer.

“Woah, woah.” He sputtered, pushing Joel back against the truck.

“What’re you fixin’ to do, big brother?” He questions, squinting his eyes as he tries to read Joel's face.

His eyes were locked onto you and Cody, body stiff as his back was on the truck again, Tommy’s arm lowering after a beat. He didn’t answer. Watching your tight, polite, forced smile. Cody leaning in closer, talking too damn much. Touching your fuckin’ arm.

Eddie peered over to Joel and Tommy, then you and Cody before letting out a laugh. He sauntered over, enough beers in him that he really did look like Jack Sparrow, walking the way he was. He slapped Joel on the back.

“She can handle him.” He reassures Tommy and Joel. “Cody’s harmless. He’s been makin’ eyes at her since they were fifteen. Little punk just ain’t smart enough to know she’s outta his league.” Your dad laughs at his own comment.

Joel silently agrees. ‘Way out.’ He thinks to himself, bringing a hand of his to pinch the bridge of his nose, pulling himself together.

“Fucker went to Columbia, still ain’t smart enough.” Eddie continues with a laugh.

That comment pulls a laugh from Tommy, but not from Joel.

Joel grunted, muscle in his jaw ticking. Tommy and Eddie were too busy laughing back and forth over it, he used the opportunity to saunter towards you.

You shook your head softly. “Thanks, Cody. But I’ll be good here. Dad party or not.” You confirm with a solid nod, taking a slow step back.

Cody flushed and muttered something under his breath, then turned to walk away. You rolled your eyes and pushed air through your lips, blowing raspberries as he did.

Joel stopped in his tracks as Cody turned away, weight lifting from his shoulders when they rolled back. He sipped his beer, but kept a watchful eye. Pretending like he didn’t want to snap that kid in half.

You turned to pick up some empty cans, catching sight of Joel and his rigid frame, shooting him a quick look as if to say.

‘Relax.’

His shoulders slouched as he sighed. But he was hanging on by a thread.

———

Your dad stood at the porch, drunkenly declaring the start of the costume contest, giving directions to those who wanted to participate. Slowly groups gathered across the street, leaving a few stragglers behind. You’re using the opportunity to clean up some. Collecting empty bottles, cans, plates and candy wrappers.

You caught his eye again from across the yard. You froze where you were standing, the both of you just taking a moment to stare. His eyes flickered behind the house, then back to yours. You blinked, doing the same. When your eyes met him again he tilted his head the same direction, quickly. He pushed himself out of his chair and went through the front door of the house. You gave it a moment before following, anxious bubbles blooming in your sternum. All you two knew was sneaking around. That same giddy feeling pushes goosebumps over your skin every, damn, time.

You made it into the house, looking around for him before noticing the back door was propped open.

You whine in confusion. “Joel, what the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, exiting the back door and shutting it behind you.

Still no sign of him.

You did hear heavy boots crunching on stale leaves. Your heart thumped against your chest, you swallowed thickly, making your way towards the back of the yard, by the shed.

Nothing. You push air through your nose, frustration growing.

What the fuck is he doing? Calling you to the back and disappearing? Is this fun to him?

You start to get annoyed, an anxious feeling in the bottom of your stomach.

A large, calloused hand grips your wrist for the second time today, pulling you behind the shed, pressing you roughly against the siding. The air pushed from your lungs in a gasp.

“What the f-“ You started angrily.

“You tryin’ to make me lose my goddamn mind tonight, darlin’?” He hissed against your ear, his breath pickling heat against your skin.

You dropped your annoyed frustration. Quickly it turned into a hot, needy kind of frustration between your thighs. A sick smile twisted at the ends of your lips, arching your back against the shed, pushing your chest into his broad, firm chest.

“What if I was?” You gleamed, breathless.

His expression stiffened, eyes cold and dark. He released your arm, that hand wrapping loosely around your jaw, the opposite finding your hip. He splayed his thick fingers along the curve of your ass, slipping his hand lower to cup your thigh, urging your leg to lift and hook at his hip. You whined at the cool air now having direct contact to your damp clothed core. His lips crashed to your hungrily, kissing you hard. His hand squeezed your thigh as he sunk his teeth into your lower lip. The sound leaving your throat was filthy, pleading for him.

“You keep wearin’ shit like this,” He muttered, dragging his lips across the skin of your jaw, sucking soft kisses there. “Someone’s gonna end up dead. And it ain’t gonna be me, baby.”

You moaned softly, his words hitting your core directly, heat building there. You giggled through needy breaths, snaking a hand between the two of you, tugging his cowboy hat lower to cover his eyes.

“You gonna punish me, cowboy?” You emphasized your southern drawl, and the growl that rumbled in his chest was all the assurance you needed to know his answer.

“Damn right I am.”

Your hand rested at his shoulder, pulling him down for another desperate kiss. His hand left your throat to mirror his other, cupping your opposite thigh and coaxing it to do the same. You whined into his lips and he swallowed every one of them. As you lifted your thigh, he bounced you to get a better grip, his strong, warm hands spread along the underside of your thighs, his hips pushed forward to keep you pinned at the wall. The cool metal of his bulky belt buckle pressed into your damp panties made you rut your hips pathetically against it.

One of his fingers finds its way under the strap of your garter belt. He pulled it away from your skin with a hooked finger, far enough to create tension. He let it slip. The strap snapped harshly against the sensitive, fleshy skin. You whined, body stiffened at the sharp burn, melting as it slowly turned sweet.

“Joel- please..” You pleaded against his lips.

“Yeah? Want me to take you right here-“

You heard your name.

Tommy’s voice.

Way too close.

You heard it again, shoes crunching the leaves beneath them.

Panicking, you look at Joel.

He’s losing his shit too.

Fuck.

“Shh. I got you.” He whispered, letting you down softly, but quickly onto the ground. You’re grateful with how quickly he’s collecting himself because you’re sure you still look like a deer in headlights.

Footsteps crunching closer.

Joel ushered you behind the recycling bin, mouthing to you ‘crouch down. be quiet’

You nodded. Your heart was beating out of your chest while you pulled your knees so close to your chest you could barely take a full breath.

Joel turned his back to you, rolling his shoulders back while clearing his throat.

“Joel?” Tommy's voice sounded so clear, he had to be right there.

“Takin’ a leak.” He said cooly. Like he didn’t just have you off the ground, whimpering into his lips.

You swallowed thickly, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to convince yourself this is just a sick fucking joke.

“You seen Eddie’s girl? He’s lookin’ for her.” Tommy slurred.

You heard Joel rustle with his belt buckle. ‘really selling the ‘takin’ a leak’ You thought to yourself.

“Ain’t seen her. Did you check the house?”

Tommy didn’t answer, he lingered for a second.

You felt your stomach sitting in your throat, threatening to spill your guts and give away your cover.

Tommy sucked his teeth, mumbling something under his breath before turning away. Leaves crunching under his shoes again.

You still felt like you were gonna puke, all this built up tension. You needed another second to remind yourself to breathe.

Joel peered around the bin to you, his face flushed, looking like he just ran a mile.

“Y’almost got us caught.”

“You almost got yourself caught, cowboy. Hands up my skirt n’ all.” You grumbled, frowning at him.

His lip curled, muttering something under his breath. He placed a hand on his belt, peering down at you.

“What was that?” You teased, a small smile teasing your lips.

“Said you’re a damn brat.” The words rolled off his tongue effortlessly, and landed deep, heavy in your core.

All the worry and anxiety melting from your body in that moment, that warm pit in your belly taking its place. He reached for your hand, that you graciously took, and pulled you to your feet. His hands, the ones that were just gripping your thighs in a filthy way. The ones that grip and pin your hips, the pads of those fingers that leave bruises there sometimes.

Those hands- His.

His hands.

They were gentle for now, brushing the dirt and leaves from your costume and helping you settle again. His last words rattled around in your brain.

“Go on, get ‘fore you get us both strung up.” His voice was soft, his hand giving you pat on your hip, guiding you out to the front as he lingered behind the shed a moment longer.

——

You were exhausted. Tired from picking up after everyone. You’re making runs for drinks, ice, trash bags, more drinks, quick pit stop behind the shed with Joel, judging the costume contest, things now finally starting to wrap up.

“Tommy, you’re really no help.” You’d mutter, tossing an empty can in his direction. He sat, eyes closed in a lawn chair. He gave no response.

“Only thing I asked-“ You’d grunt, trying to push the grill over to reach some trash behind it. “Was for you to- fuck-“ You panted, grunting against while pushing the grill. “Hold the fuckin’ bag open. Ya drunk, can’t even do that.” You blew air through puffed cheeks, shoulders slouched over as you turned back to him.

He was stirring in the chair, eyes not closed, but heavy enough to look it. “Not a drunk.. You screwed me on that contest. Should’ve been first place.” He slurred. You laughed at him, tossing an empty red cup that was behind the grill at him next, barely making it in the bag.

“You holding grudges now?” You joked, clapping your hands together to brush them off. “C’mon. Don’t be a baby.” You teased.

“He still sour o’er that?” Your dad’s voice comes from the yard.

“He hasn’t shut up ‘bout it since.” Joel chimed in, packing the speaker away.

You smile and shake your head at Tommy’s mumblings and groans.

“I got the rest of this.” Your dad says, walking over and putting a hand on your shoulder. “I got him too.” He gestures to Tommy, who looks like he might actually be asleep now.

“Are you sure?” You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head up to him.

“Mhm.” He hums, looking at the yard then back to you. “Long as you don’t mind helpin’ Joel take some of these chairs back to his house, huh kid?” Joel cleared his throat from a few feet away, eyes locked onto you.

Your stomach sits heavy.

It’s sick, really.

Your dad asking you to help Joel, to be alone, in his house, for who knows how long it takes to put away some damn chairs. While he’s sat taking care of his kid brother.

It’s sick.

It shouldn’t light a fire in your stomach. But it does.

“Y-Yeah. I can help.” You finally choke out.

Your dad smiles and gives you another pat on the back, mumbling a ‘Thanks, kid.’ before turning towards Tommy, slumped in one of the chairs you’d need.

“Get’cher ass up, boy.” Your dad laughed while tugging on his arm and helping him up, taking Tommy's body weight on his own and helping him into the house. The click of the door seems to echo through the quieting houses on the street., you and Joel sharing side glances as you’re left alone.

——

You struggled to keep up with the pace Joel set as he walked towards his house, just four houses down from your dad’s, arms filled with lawn chairs. The lawn chairs now thrown onto the porch, not taking the extra second it’d take to put them away.

He unlocked the front door in one smooth motion and pulled you in the next. He kicked the door shut, hard, with his boot.

His hands are on your hips, whipping you around until your back is pressed against the door, his hips keeping you pinned there. The quick movements pulled the air from your lungs, leaving you to gasp.

“Been teasin’ me all goddamn night.” He hissed, voice thick with frustration.

He leaned back to give his hands some space to roam over the fabric of your nurse costume, his palms warm and broad as they’d skate over the buttons.

His hands stopped at your ribs, his fingertips pressing into the bottom of your breasts.

“Flirtin’ and smilin’ at every boy who looked your way.” He spat while taking both of your wrists into one of his hands and pinning them about your head, knocking his cowboy hat off his head, somewhere behind him.

You gasped, bottom lip quivering. You needed him badly. Pent up after hours of waiting for this- for him. You force a grin, not wanting him to know how easily you’ll fold. You know he loves it, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t too.

“What’re you gonna do about it, cowboy?” You don’t even recognize the sound of your own voice with all the buzzing in your head.

He does though, and he growls in response, pushing his hips firm against yours. His thick cock straining, hard against the denim material, right up against your lower stomach for the second time today. He grits his teeth, his free hand coming to grip the collar or your dress, the warmth of his hand over the exposed skin of your breast makes you whimper.

You arch your back, pushing your chest towards him, silently begging for more contact, just more. He doesn’t give it to you just yet, hand around your wrists tightening, the one on your cheap costume ripping it open, the white buttons bouncing off of the wooden floor.

Your eyes widened as you processed, squirming under his dark stare. Under the shreds of the white dress, your body clad in the white and red, laced get up you so thoughtfully slipped on earlier.

For him.

He knows that, too.

“Gonna remind you who you belong to, pretty girl.” He says lowly, his southern drawl painfully prominent.

Before you get the chance to respond, Joel spins you around, taking your hands that were above your head and pinning them behind your back, still his single hand keeping both of yours pinned there. Your chest pressed against the cool door, the difference of your burning skin against it made you whine. Your back arched, his straining cock now pressed to your ass. Silently you tried to push your hips back onto him.

His free hand came down quickly on your ass, the stinging turning sweet as he rubbed his warm palm over the spot, soothing it.

“Joel!” You squeaked, resting your cheek against the door, face smushing just slightly, stomach turning and pulling.

“Gonna be a good girl now, hm?” He leaned over your back, his lips just dusting the shell of your ear while rocking his hips slowly into yours.

“Y-Yes, Jo-“ He cut you off with another rough smack to the same spot. A yelp bursting through your lips, body slinking back into his.

“Too late for sweet talk, baby girl.” He rasped, his hand not soothing the sting this time, letting it sit and burn your skin.

He pulled back for a moment, the weight of his body being pulled from you made you whine, missing the heavy contact. His hands made work of what was left of costume, discarding it somewhere with his now long forgotten cowboy hat.

It hit you like a ton of bricks. The fact that you’re bent over, pressed against his front door in nothing but a red laced bra, panties, the garter belt and the thigh highs they held up. Joel was still fully clothed, just his hat missing. The thought of being so exposed and vulnerable to him just made the slick between your thighs amplify.

“Fuck.” Joel growled, pushing a sharp breath through gritted teeth. His dark eyes scanned your body, the way the lace dug into the fleshy parts of your skin, thighs spilling slightly out of the tops of the stockings. The large, pink outline of his handprint adorning your ass cheek.

“Look so pretty for me like this, baby.” He muttered.

He let your hands go and you quickly pushed your palms into the door, steadying yourself.

Before you got the chance to beg for his touch, he gave it to you- just not where you needed him. Broad, calloused palms skating up your sides, then back down to rest at your hips. You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose in frustration. A quiet whine fell from your lips as you pushed against the door, grinding your hips against his throbbing cock.

“S’alright, angel. I got you.” He offered reassurance.

“Please- just. Need you. Badly.” You pleaded through soft breaths.

“Tell me where, pretty girl.” He rasped, placing a hand between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned to the door again.

His other hand reached around your torso, palming your breast for a moment, his fingers hooked around the cup of your bra and tugged down, letting your boob spill out. You whined as his fingers found your hardened nipple, his thumb and pointer finger giving it a lazy roll.

A broken whine left your lips, body squirming for any additional friction he’d offer.

“This where you need me?” He asked lowly.

You could just about hear the smirk on his stupid, beautiful, fucking face.

You shook your head.

“Gotta use your words, darlin’.” He reminds you.

“N-No. Not there.” You huffed into the door, his hand still working painfully slow at your nipple.

“So good f’me.” He praises.

In a beat it was gone, his hand trailing down your spine, stopping for a moment to admire his darkening handprint on your ass. The sight made his eyes roll back and his thick cock twitch.

“What ‘bout here?” He asked, his hand trailing further to cup your cunt.

Your knees buckled at the contact, after being teased and left all day, the final contact of his warm palm grinding against your sensitive slick was euphoric. A long string of ‘yesyesyespleaseyesthatsit’ left your lips quickly.

“Atta girl.” He muttered, almost to himself.

Your body writhed under his touch, even when there wasn’t much of it. The anticipation of it was enough.

His index finger dragged slowly up your slick panties, nudging against your covered entrance, a soft, sick, wet noise filling your ears as his finger rubbed slow, torturous circles there.

“S’all for me, angel?” He sucks his teeth sympathetically. “Poor baby, walking ‘round all day like this, huh?” He hums.

You’re embarrassed because it’s true. Even more embarrassed because of him calling you out on it, makes it worse. Heat licks at your core, right where his fingers prodding on the other side of the lace.

“For you- yes. All for you.” You pushed out quickly, your soft moans gracing his ears shortly after.

He tucked two fingers under your panties, slowly tugging them to the side, a growl rumbling deep in his chest at the sight. A thin line of your slick stretching from you to the lace, your cunt and inner thighs glistening from your arousal.

“So pretty.” He said simply, tugging your panties once to keep them out of the way, letting the web fabric snap against your skin.

You grit your teeth, the cool air hitting your wet core, walls clenching around nothing. You could almost sob at how desperately you needed him, chest heaving, heart sitting in the base of your throat, stomach wound in a tight coil.

He leaned over your back, his fingers dipping through your folds, collecting your slick and stopping at your clit.

You cried out against the door, pressing your thighs together, clamping down on his hand.

“You knew damn well what you were doin’ tonight.” He whispered against your ear, his syrupy voice soft against you.

“Paradin’ around in this little thing. Letting that fuckin’-“ His fingers worked in smaller, more concentrated circles at your clit despite your thighs clamping down. “-punk lean in real close. Like he had a chance.”

His voice was hot on your already burning skin, his words doing filthy things to the coil in your belly.

“I-I didn’t-“ You rebuttal.

“Quiet.” He spat, his tone making your breath hitch.

You became painfully aware of how large he was, how big he felt while brooding over you, fingers working at your clit, his wide chest pressed against your back, lips ghosting your ear.The sheer size of his frame against yours made your muscles spasm, a fresh gush of arousal dripping from you and into his palm.

“That's what got you this wet, hm?”

You shook your head.

“What was it then, baby?” He asked, fingers slowly to dip back into your folds, his middle finger circling your entrance before slowly pushing in, your slick allowing him to sink it deep, smoothly.

“Fuck!” You panted, walls spasming around his thick digit.

“Was it when Tommy could’ve caught us? He walked around any later, would’ve seen me fucking you right into that wall. That make your pretty pussy this wet?” His southern drawl rang against your ears, his finger pumping slowly in and out of you, his knuckles shiny with your slick.

“J-Joel, please-“ You begged breathlessly.

You were gratefully cut off by him adding his ring finger. Both of his fingers work at your core, stretching you as he bottoms out to his knuckles. You balled your fist and banged it against the door, trying to release the pent up energy buzzing around in your body.

“Or was it when I had you in the kitchen?”

Fuck.

“Your daddy just on the other side of the wall, while I had that pretty lil’ face’a yours in my hand, smearin’ that fuckin’ lipstick.” He grunted, curling his fingers deep inside you.

Every huff that left your lips ended in a moan, a whine or a plea for him. His beautiful, filthy mouth pushes you closer to your release.

He fucking knows it, too.

He is painfully aware of the effect his sultry words have on you. He weaponizes them every. fucking. time. It’s why he makes sure to let you know how beautiful you look while dripping and shaking for him, how tight, wet, hot, you feel against him, around him, for him.

Only him.

His heart skips a beat, dark eyes locked onto every subtle movement, clocking the way your body reacts. He knows those moans, increasing in volume, being drawn out towards the end. Breathless and fumbling over your own lips.

“That was it.” He states matter of factly.

“Wasn’t it baby?” His fingers twisting, curling and pumping into your wet cunt.

Your arousal pooling in his palm, dripping down his wrist and soaking into the sleeve of his flannel that's pushed up his forearm somewhere.

You swallowed thickly, almost wincing, the amount of pleasure wound in your gut painful.

“Joel I-“

“I know, baby.” He soothes you with his words, fingers giving you no mercy.

“Give it to me, baby girl. Let me feel you squeeze my fingers, yeah?”

Your eyes screw shut, rutting your hips against his fingers. His soaked knuckles brushing against your swollen clit. That swift contact was all you needed to unravel.

“J-Joel, ohfuck-“ You whined out, your fists so tight your nails pressed half moons into the fleshy part of your palm.

The coil deep in your belly snapped.

“I know. Look so pretty cummin’ around my fingers, angel face. S’good for me baby.”

Your knees buckled and he quickly wrapped his free arm around your torso, your skin white hot, supporting your entire weight like it was nothing, keeping you upright. His fingers didn’t change pace, your slick gushing around his digits. The squelching and your moans almost syncing up, all he could think about was how fucking good you felt writhing in his arms.

“I got you, pretty girl. S’okay. Doin’ so good for me.” He praised.

His thick fingers fucked you through your orgasm, your hands squabbling at the door as it became too much. He didn’t let up right away.

“Fuck-“ You’d pant. “Joel, s’too… too much.”

He smiles sweetly behind you, slowing his fingers and finally unsheathing them, a thick string of your cum webbing your cunt to his fingers.

“I know-“ He’d drawl again. “You’re alright. I got you.” He reminded you.

You whined at the loss of his digits, walls clamping around nothing now. Empty. Joel's hand cupped your pulsing heat, rubbing his hand sickeningly slowly. Your body twitched, thighs clamping shut around his hand, broken whines leaving your raw throat.

“Alright, pretty girl. Settle down.”

He removes his hand from your heat completely, smearing your slick on the inside of your thigh before grabbing your waist and slowly turning you to face him.

“There's my girl.” He spoke softly, one hand pressed to the small of your back, holding you to him while the other creeped up your body.

Your eyes were hooded, face flushed, body unsteady and shaking from the orgasm he just ripped from you. His hand cupped your cheek, cool and still slick from you. You turned your face into his palm, parting your plump lips and taking the two fingers that were just fucking you into your mouth.

His groans, eyes dark and wide while he watched your lips close around the base of his knuckles. You could taste your bittersweet cum still clinging there. His fingers prodding the hot flesh at the inside of your cheeks.

“Did so good for me, darlin’.” He reminds you.

You met his eyes, leering up to him through your thick lashes, lids still heavy. You look fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. It makes him throb to know he’s the one who made you look like this.

Mascara and eyeshadow smudged around your eye, a small trail of what looks to be a single tear spilling over one of your cheeks which are now hollowing around his fingers. He studied every small detail, eyes lingering on your mouth, lipstick barely on but just enough to leave a small stain at the base of his knuckles as he slipped his fingers out of your throat. The suction lifting with a small ‘pop’ as his hand returned to cup your cheek, pulling you in for a long, desperate kiss.

“Not done with you yet, baby.” He mumbles into your mouth.

Your lips part to sigh into his. He quickly took the opportunity to roll his tongue into yours. His kissing turned from sweet, long and slow to hungry and needy in no time. Low growls from his throat spilling against your mouth.

“Think you can give me another one?” He pulled back, looking down at you.

His face was red, a slight sheen of sweat sticky around his hairline. His dark curls plastered there, grey hairs adorning them. His hair was messy, tousled and fucking beautiful. That's how he looked. Beautiful, hungry and so fucking filthy at the same time. But god your body was fucking reeling from the first one still. He must’ve sensed your hesitation by the way your eyes widened.

“Know you can, you did so good just then angel face.” His words work overtime in your brain.

“Need to see you cum ‘round my cock. Yeah? S’that sound okay?” He hums, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and tilting your chin up, more and more pieces must have come loose during the past 20 minutes.

“Joel I don’t.. I-I don’t know if I can.” You whimper, hating how pathetic you sound. But he drinks up every bit of it.

He started shaking his head before you even finished.

“I’ve gotcha baby, don’t forget that.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before bending at his knees, wrapping his strong arms around you and lifting you up like nothing.

“Joel!” You yelped in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck, giggling into his chest.

You feel him smile against your skin. He’d kick his bedroom door open, sauntering in until his knees came in contact with his bed frame. He crouched over, letting you fall onto your back, mattress bouncing. You sprawled your arms out, his dark grey comforter, your hands balling some of the fabric into your fists. You felt vulnerable in front of him like this. This is far from the first time he has seen you in such scad clothing, but the way he loomed over your body made you feel shy. His large hands pull his flannel from his belt line, unbuttoning and slipping it off. His broad, tanned shoulders are on display. The white beater clung to his sweaty skin, belt buckle hanging at his hips. Just the sight of him made you swoon.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that.” He mutters.

You just can’t take your eyes off his body. The way his muscles flex under his skin while his hands work at unfastening his belt, the large buckle clinking against itself.

“You look so good.” You hum to him, spreading your legs further apart as he stands between them. The insides of your thighs are warming from the friction of his jeans rubbing against them.

He chuckles, pulling his belt from its loops in one quick motion. Your stomach tightens. Your hands are moving before you can notice, fingers splayed outwards, reaching for his torso. He drops the belt on the floor with a clatter. He lets you reach, even leaning down and pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of your head. You tilted your head up to pull him into a kiss that's soft at first until he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. You hissed as he pulled it back, letting it snap back to its place. The noise only made him smirk. Your hands made quick work of the button and zipper of his blue jeans. Frantically pushing them down his hips. He helps you by kicking them off with his boots.

“Joel-” He cuts you off with a kiss before pulling back and looking down at you.

“Please.” You were over his slow and calculated moves. You needed him to take you here and now.

He doesn’t answer, even when you pull his beater off and run your fingers down his torso, tugging at the band of his boxers.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He finally speaks up, voice slow and steady.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Of course you’re his. You sighed softly while nodding.

“I’m yours, Joel.”

“Repeat it.” He demands.

“I’m yours.” You obey.

“Those college boys couldn’t make you feel the way I do.” He’s not asking. It was true.

He pushes your bodies up the bed, now kneeling into the mattress, his thighs pressed into the bottoms of yours, his lips connecting with your collar.

“They couldn’t make you cum with their fingers like I can.” Another true statement.

Your legs wrapped loosely around his waist, digging your heels into the backs of his legs, coaxing his hips to make contact with yours, the throb of your cunt doing everything but dulling.

“No, only you.” You reassure him, slipping your hands to the back of his head, curling the hair at the nape of his neck around your index fingers.

“Only me.” He repeats, growling.

“You sure you know that? Was lettin’ that Cody kid hang ‘round for some time.” He continued, his lip curling at the thought.

He was jealous. Even while he was fucking his fingers into you minutes ago, he couldn’t help that quick memory of Cody holding your arm, leaning in close. The way you let him.

You knew Joel was jealous, but this made your heart skip a beat.

“You think he’d like to see you like this, hm?”

Your breath caught in your throat, shaking your head ‘no’.

“You want him to?”

“No.” You breathed out.

“Want him to hear you?” He whispered, peppering kisses across your chest, licking a fat stripe from there to the spot below your jaw, then blowing cool air over the damp skin.

You shiver and he speaks up again before you can answer.

“Want him to hear you cummin’ on my cock? Hear how wet your pussy is while I fuck you?”

You shake your head again, rocking your hips in the direction of his.

His words stirred around your brain. God, how long was he thinking about you and Cody? The five minute interaction burned permanently into Joel’s brain. He couldn’t stand looking at a boy touching you like that. That's not how you like to be touched, Joel knows how you like to be touched. Only Joel.

“That boy wouldn’t know the first thing to do with you.” He sucks a small hickey into the side of your neck.

“With this.” he mumbles against your skin, pushing his teeth into the flesh. One of his large hands cupping your sex again.

You whined at the contect, almost sure he could feel you throbbing in his palm.

“Only you, Joel.” You moaned softly.

“Damn right, darlin’.”

He couldn't contain himself anymore.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

He heard you say it a million times.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Was the only thing ringing through his ears.

He stood up quickly, pulling your panties and garter belt off, fast. Fast enough for them to burn down your legs. As good as it looked on you, he needed it off. He needed to feel your skin against his, not the scratchy lace fabric. He pulls your bra over your head, not caring how awkward it was. He needed it off. He needed you. He groaned at the sight of you beneath him, body squirming in anticipation on the bed. His cock throbbed in his boxers, pre cum staining the fabric with a wet spot.

“Please,please,please” You murmur, reaching your hands out again to push his boxers down his hips. He lets you, kicking them off the rest of the way.

He sucks a sharp breath through his teeth as his cock springs free, bobbing against his stomach. You’ve seen him plenty of times but it never mattered. His cock thick, tip red and glistening with his pre. You rolled your hips up, feeling your slick drip from your folds, flooding the comforter beneath you.

“Please what, baby?” He teases and you cuss under your breath.

As much as he loves talking you through it, he loves eliciting your voice too. No matter how broken or pathetic it may sound. Your pleading and promises ‘to be good’ drive him fucking insane.

He wraps his strong hand around the base of his cock. Dark, wiry hairs brushing his knuckles as he pumps himself. A hearty groan falling past his lips.

“Joel. I need- Please,” You breathe out.

“Fuck me, please.” You push out your words before whining.

He doesn’t say anything but position himself as close as possible to you, his thighs under yours again.

“Fuck.” He drawls, slipping the tip of his cock through your soaked cunt.

You’re white knuckling his bed spread, rocking your hips into him. He purses his lips before parting them, letting the tip of his tongue fall past them. A hot, thick drip of his saliva spilling off his tongue and onto your pussy.

The sight was fucking dirty. But him tapping the head of his cock along the spit, dragging it against your clit was downright filthy.

Quickly your hands left the sheet, squabbling at his strong shoulders before gripping them, pressing your nails into his hot skin.

“Y’look so pretty. Soaking my bed like this, baby.” He gruffs.

His words could eat you alive right now.

“Joel-” You warn him, your walls clenching around nothing, needy and weeping.

He guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, prodding there before stuffing the tip past your tight cunt. The muscles in your stomach tightens, rapid breaths breaking up your moans.

“Feel good, baby?” He swallows, trying to keep his composure.

Slowly he sinks his hips into yours, his thick cock stretching you. You wince as he bottoms out, the sharp burn making your vision blurry. Full. You felt so full of him. This is the feeling you’ve been missing for these long two weeks. No matter how hard you tried, your own fingers in your bed did no justice. You’re not sure anything would amount to the pleasure of being stuffed to the brim with his cock. His heavy, sweat sheened body hovering over yours.

You nod your head. “Y-Yes.” You babble while nodding your head sloppily.

You were grateful for the moment he gave you to adjust, the burn turning sickly sweet. Your hips rolled, now begging for friction.

“S’good, pretty girl. Y’fit my cock so good. Like you were made f’me.” He breathes while slowly drawing his hips back, and pushing them back into the hilt.

He established a paced thrust, his tongue wetting his lips in concentration, his eyes focused on how slick his cock is with you when he draws out.

You felt the air knocking out of your lungs with every thrust, whining steady pouring from the back of your throat. Your eyes rolled shut, nails pressing harshly into his shoulders. His hips didn’t slack as he pushed your hands off him, his hands pulling your legs to rest on them now, ankles on opposite sides of his shoulders. The new angle pushing him deeper in your cunt, the room filling with his grunts and the sick squelch of your arousal.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” He grits, picking up his thrusts, the new position making his cock strain against your tight walls.

You were too drunk on his cock to listen. Your eyes still screwed shut, mouth falling open, fucking filthy sounds falling. Until you felt a sting on your cheek, your eyes opened wide, greeted with his face. His hand made contact with your cheek again, but didn’t leave it. His burning skin is boring into your reddening cheek. He grips your jaw roughly.

“Said-” He groans, hips slapping against the back of your thighs. “Fuckin’ look at me.” His dark eyes locked onto yours.

You swallowed tightly, the coil in your lower stomach binding quickly.

“Open.” He says, pressing his thumb into your lower jaw.

You whine as his thrusts cease. He’s leaning over your frame, legs still propped on your shoulders as he's practically folding you in half. You whine and open your mouth, tongue sitting on your lower lip, welcoming the string of his saliva he drips over you. It's hot on your tongue. It tastes like whiskey and him. You let your tongue display it for him, closing your lips around it when he taps your tender cheek roughly with the hand that's there, signaling you to do so. Then you swallow.

He grits at the sight, resuming his thrusts like he hadn't stopped. He's even setting a new debilitating pace, one that makes the muscles in the undersides of your thighs burn.

“Fuck, y’so good for me, baby.” His praises make your walls squeeze his cock.

The familiar pit in your stomach rumbles. You won't last long the way his hot breath tickles the inside of your ankles. The ruthless pace he set with his thrusts. The thought of his spit lingering on your tongue while he fucks you senseless.

“I-I’m close, Joel.. Fuck- Harder.” You tell him, moaning loudly.

“Yeah? Want to cum on my cock, pretty girl? Fuck-.” The hand on your cheek leaves to brush some of your hair from your face. A loving gesture while he's manhandling you otherwise. His hand settles on the top of your shoulder, giving him leverage to fuck you deeper, harder.

His free hand glides down your shin and onto your thigh, his fingers pressing harshly into your flesh. The pain dragging a breathless moan of his name from you. He could listen to that all fucking day.

You try to answer him, the words coming out as a blubbering mess. You aren’t able to think straight while hes fucking you, drunk on him.

“Squeezing my cock so good, angel face. Such a good girl.” He presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your inner ankle, the hand at your thigh wrapping around in, his broad palm splaying across your lower stomach.

Fuck.

His jaw falls slack, his own stomach churning at the feeling. The feeling of his cock pounding into you under his palm.

“Need y’to cum for me baby. Give it to me, c’mon.” He encourages you, his hand slipping lower, thumb making contact with your clit.

You can barely make out his figure, sight going white when you feel his thumb. He barely moves it, just adding pressure right above the sensitive bud. THe ruthless movement of his hips jolt your body with every thrust. He's holding out for you, he doesn’t want to finish until you’ve given him another, and he tells you just that.

“Need one more baby, know you can do it. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you.” He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on.

You dont last any longer. He rips a second orgasm from you. Your body white hot and shaking as he fucks you through it. His name leaves your lips repeatedly, not knowing anything else in this moment other than him.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

“Fuck, yeah.” He pants. “That's a good girl. Easy. Cumming for me so- shit.” His hips sputter as he nears his own high, his thumb now working small circles on your clit, riding you through your high. “S’good. S’fucking tight- ah, fuck.”

Your body burns, muscles sore as he relentlessly fucks into you, breathing rapidly while his thumb works quick to overstimulate you. Tears welling in your eyes, threatening to spill.

“Cum in me-” The first coherent words you blurt out other than his name in a while. “F-Fill me- fuck, Joel. Please.” You pant, head turned into his wrist, teeth grazing his skin.

That was all he needed. “God- fuckin’.”

Both of his hands grabbed your hips hard, keeping you still as he fucks his hips into you, cock throbbing and twitching as he cums, thick ropes filling your cunt.

Full.

He collapsed against you, his forehead falling to yours, folding you in half again, his hips staying buried deep in you. Your legs are shaking around him.

You both stayed like that for a few beats, breaths slowing, chests no longer heaving. After another moment, Joel lifted his head, pressing soft kisses to your forehead and down your cheeks. Your body felt limp, quivering under him.

“Hey, hey.” Joel whispered after he's taken a look at you, brows knitting in concern.

“Look at me, baby.” He takes your face in both his hands, slowly slipping himself from your throbbing cunt.

Your face scrunches, still so sensitive from your last orgasm, and the feeling of being empty again makes a tear spill over your cheek.

“Talk to me, hun.” He pleads, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your face, swiping your tears away.

You felt distant, your mind clouded. It was painful to not have him stuffed to the hilt, prodding spots so deep you’d have never known they were there. The warmth between your thighs making you whine, his spend leaking from your cunt.

“Baby, I need you to tell me you hear me.” He coo’s, hands cradling your head while he continues to pepper kisses against your skin. “Was I too much?” He blinks lovingly at you.

You sigh deeply, his continued touches to your face grounding you, your vision slowly coming back to you.

He's sweaty. His hairs stuck to his forehead. His eyebrows sewn together as he tries to read your face. He looks spent. His face is flush, features relaxing as you stir beneath him.

“Mmh.” You hum and nod your head once.

Joel lets out a sigh of relief. “I got you. Let me clean you up, angel face.”

He pulled himself off of you, steadying himself on his legs before making his way to the bathroom.

Your thighs twitch as your eyes dart around, fingers sprawling across his comforter. You turned your head to take a deep breath in, your nose filled with the smell of him.

Clean blanket, smoke and cedar.

Joel.

He returns a moment later with a warm, wet rag. “C'mere sweetheart,” He whispers, sitting in the bed next to you.

He slowly pats the warm rag against your face, cleaning the smudged and running makeup. You watched him closely. His eyes are soft, no longer harsh and black. They were big and doe like. The soft brown hue back. He gently dragged it down your neck, torso and then the insides of your thighs. You hissed, the skin there sensitive.

“Shh. S’okay. Did s’good for me. Gave me everythin’ you had. Looked so beautiful doin’ it.” He whispers, his gruff voice rolling softly from his swollen lips.

He gently wiped his spend between your thighs, turning the rag over until you were clean. He leaned over to toss it in his hamper, turning his full attention to you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He lays on his back, pulling you into his side. You curl into him, your head nestled under his arm, nose brushing the side of his chest.

“Thank you, Joel.” You finally whisper, feeling more grounded, more present.

He chuckles, craning his neck to look at you, the arm under your head curling around your body, tracing his fingers against your skin.

“There's my girl.” he whispered into your hair.

The two of you laid there for some time, damp bodies intertwined. Joel whisperering sweet praises. Sharing sweet, soft kisses here and there.

Until your phone vibrates. You fish it from the sheets.

Dad.

Your heart drops, turning the screen to Joel and he gives a sympathetic smile.

“Hey.” You answer swiftly. Act normal. You’re not laying naked with his best friend.

“Hey, kid. Did you help Joel out?”

Your throat tightens. But you remind yourself that is what you were supposed to do. Just not how your dad thinks.

“Yes.” You blurt out bluntly.

“Well, alright.. Are you still there? Been a while. Just checkin’ on you.” He asked, voice wavering a bit. He's waiting for you to fill in the spaces so he doesn't have to ask. But you don’t.

“Nope. Left after dropping off the chairs.” You roll your eyes and Joel gives you a squeeze.

Your dad didn’t say anything. He’s asking where you are without seeming like he’s prodding.

“Went out with Cody,” You say quickly. “I’ll be out late. But not too late. I’ll be safe. I’m okay.”

You barely take a breath between your words. Joel's eyebrows lift at your mention of Cody, he's sucking his teeth quietly.

“Oh! Well-uh.. Well, alright kid. Be uh. Be safe and good y’know. Can’t leave Tommy. He’s in bad shape. Call Joel if you need anything. He won’t mind helpin’ you out.” He says, speaking just as quickly as you did.

“Okay, thanks. Bye, dad.” You hang up before he can answer, tossing your phone on the bedside table with a groan. You turned back into Joel and buried your face in his chest.

“Out with Cody, hm?” He teases, wiggling his fingers on your side.

“Did you want me to tell him I’m laid up naked next to his best friend?” You quipped.

Joel opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. He shook his head.

“Thought so.” You scrunch your nose at him, stretching up to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“Said I’d still be a while.. He told me to call you if I needed anything.” You continue, lifting yourself to straddle his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips, hands splayed on his torso.

Joel sighed, sinking into the bed, one arm folding behind his head, the other resting on the top of your thigh. His eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Did he now?” He clicks his tongue.

“Said you wouldn’t even mind helpin’ me out.”

“I wouldn’t.” He chuckles, hand rubbing slowly on your thigh.

You sit there and bask in each other's smiles before his drops, his body stirring beneath yours.

“Think you can give me one more before you go, hm?” He asks, your stomach does a flip.

“Joel- no way.” You laugh, prodding a finger into his chest. “M’still sore.”

He shook his head before removing the pillow behind it.

“C’mere n’ sit on my face. Lemme kiss you better.” He muses and your face drops, trying to read his expression if he was serious or not, his hand on your thigh pulling you up his torso.

“Don't mind helpin’ you out.” He repeats your earlier words with a smirk.

✨

thank you <3

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joelmillerssugarbaby24 · 2 months ago

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Joel’s girl part 2

Joel is attracted to you and doesn’t know how to process it. You just keep worming your way into his imagination ;)

Chapter 2- Sweetheart

The trickle of sunlight that filtered through the window gently roused you from sleep. Your eyes cracked open, and you groaned, burrowing deeper under the covers.

You had never been a morning person. Even the outbreak hadn’t changed that.

As if on cue, the door opened and Joel stepped in. He was wearing a flannel over a fitted black t-shirt. His jeans were worn but tight enough for you to admire his figure. You suppressed a blush when he cocked his head at you.

“Mornin”

You grinned sleepily and waved. Why did you wave?

“Good morning, Joel. Another culinary masterpiece?”

He chuckled and slowly approached the bed, plate balanced on his hands.

“Hell no. Bacon and eggs. I ain’t a chef.”

You scoffed and snatched the plate from him.

“Coulda fooled me.”

You speared a piece of scrambled eggs and brought the fork to your mouth. You moaned happily, closing your eyes. Lips wrapping around the utensil.

“I haven’t had eggs in so long.”

Your eyes popped open to find him staring at you with a dark expression. He suddenly found the spot on the floor by his foot fascinating and you suppressed a giggle. So this bear of a man was shy. You tucked that information away for later. You had no way of knowing it was that little moan that had him jerking his gaze away. He couldn’t be thinking about you like that. You were just a kid. Or… mostly one, he mused as his gaze once again trailed over the soft curves of your body beneath the nightgown. He mentally shook himself again. Enough old man.

“Huh?” You queried with those fucking doe eyes.

He realized then that he had said it out loud. Fuck.

“Nothing.”

He grunted once again plopping into the chair beside your bed and spreading his thighs. You averted your gaze.

“Did you think of anything you wanted me to fetch for ya?”

You tilted your head and shrugged.

“I dunno. Maybe some books?”

He nodded thoughtfully, pulling a small notebook from his back pocket. There was a pen attached and he removed it to jot down a few notes. You hid a smile. He was sweet too.

“Anything else?”

His voice was gruff and you raised your eyes to his, forcing yourself to meet his piercing gaze.

“A notebook. And some pencils. Please.”

He tore the page he was writing in and tossed his notebook on the bed.

“Keep that. I’ll get you the rest before I have to go out on patrol.”

You nodded and fiddled with the blanket.

“Is there anything I can do? You know, to help? I don’t want to just lay here all day doing nothin.”

He cocked his head at you, standing now. He was incredibly intimidating fully dressed and towering over you in your night gown. You scooted back till you hit the headboard.

“You wanna help?”

His voice rumbled through you, arousing you in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You found yourself pressing your legs together again. He noticed, glancing at your lap.

“You can help me by staying put and getting your strength back. Don’t go and do something stupid like trying to get up. Ok?”

Your head drooped. He had seen right through you. You had planned to try as soon as he left the room.

“What about just a little? I just wanna see if-

“No. No Moving. Stay in that spot. Got it?”

You leaned back in a resigned way, rolling your eyes.

“Yes, Mr Miller.”

“Im serious.”

You looked up at him then, noting the way his eyes pinned you in place. He was serious. But something about him made you want to test his limits. Just a little bit.

“What about a bath?”

You asked innocently.

He sighed heavily and leaned against the doorframe, rubbing a big hand down his face.

“Later. I’ll help you.”

“You can’t help me” you replied defensively, pulling the sheets to your chin.

He tilted his head to the side, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth.

“And why not, sweetheart?”

You chewed on your lip and looked at the floor, the ceiling- anything but those eyes.

“You know why.”

He crossed his arms and chuckled.

“All right. I’ll get Maria. Ok?”

You nodded and flashed him a smile.

“Ok, Mr Miller.”

He waved a hand at you dismissively, scowling.

“Enough of that Mr Miller stuff. It’s Joel.”

You giggled and he turned to leave before thinking better of it and facing you again.

“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be nothing but trouble?”

You smiled innocently at him, batting your lashes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffed and left the room, hiding the smile creeping its way across his face.

————————

Later

You were taking an afternoon nap when the sound of voices jolted you awake. You sat up, stretching your arms over your head in a yawn. Your eyes caught on the side table where three books were stacked on top of each other next to a small box of pencils. Next to that a sharpener and some erasers. You covered your smile with your hand and reached out to trace the books. When was the last time you had the luxury of reading?

You grabbed one of the volumes and brought it to your face, opening it and smelling the pages. Letting out a small contented sigh, you drew your knees to your chest and began to read. Seems Joel had good taste in books as well. A romance? You giggled and snuggled deeper into the bed. You were so relaxed you didn’t even register it when your hand trailed down your body and slipped under your nightgown into the fresh cotton panties Maria had given you to wear. Your eyes closed and you moaned softly, playing with yourself as images of Joel flashed across your mind. Joel sitting in the chair by your bed. His large veiny hands gripping his thighs. The perfect angle for you to slide into his lap and-

The door banged open and you jerked your hand away, cheeks flushed, pupils blown with arousal. Joel stared at you, trying to register why you were so flustered before a slow smile crept across his face and he leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms.

“Ever heard of knocking?” You scoffed, embarrassed, scrambling to make it seem like you weren’t just touching yourself to thoughts of him.

He wasn’t fooled.

“Am i interrupting somethin?”

You stared at him incredulously, still incredibly turned on with an ache between your legs that only ramped up since he burst into your room. You silently chided yourself and cleared your throat.

“Just taking a nap.”

“Uh huh”

He sat down- on the bed this time- and ran his hand through his hair.

“Thank you- for the… books and… stuff.” you muttered, flustered by his nearness. If you wanted to you could reach out and touch him. Pull him into you. The temptation was so great you had to sit on your traitorous hands.

“Maria isn’t available.”

You raised a brow.

“Uh. Available for…”

He turned his face to you then, his face morphed once again into his trademark scowl.

“Your bath.”

He stood and looked out the window, hands on his hips. It was hard not to appreciate the view.

“So the way I see it you got two options.”

He turned to face you.

“You wait til Ellie’s back tomorrow from her friends house and she can help you. Or I can help you tonight. But you ain’t doin it on your own.”

You scoffed.

“I can get in a bath just fine I’m not an invalid.”

He reached down and grabbed your blanket with a big hand and pulled it up revealing your mangled leg before looking back at you with a cocky expression.

“Oh really”

You huffed and scooted to the edge of the bed.

“I can! Watch.”

He watched you pull your legs to the side of the bed, trying to hide the pain that flared up from the movement. Then tentatively you grabbed the side table and tried to raise yourself on shaky legs. The minute your foot touched the floor you moaned in pain and fell back onto your ass. Joel watched you with an amused expression.

“Still think you can do it on your own?”

You rolled your eyes.

“All right. All right. Fuck! You can help me.”

“Good girl” he said before patting the bed and leaving the room entirely.

Good girl

He returned a moment later and approached the bed. Then before you knew what was happening he swept you up in his arms and carried you out of the room. You yelped, not quick enough to stop yourself from giggling. You tried to see the rest of the house but his broad shoulders hid most of it from view as he carried you to what you assumed was the bathroom. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck and you absently sunk your fingers into his curls. He grunted and his grip on you tightened. Hm. Interesting.

He entered the bathroom and set you down gently on the toilet before turning to start the bath. You couldn’t hold back a moan at the sight of steamy water filling the tub. A bath. When was the last time you had a bath??

He turned to you and motioned to your nightgown.

You looked down at it. “What?”

He shook his head incredulously.

“You gonna take a bath in that?”

You crossed your arms and huffed.

“Ok. But turn around.”

He chuckled but obeyed your request, putting his broad back between you and the tub.

Gingerly you reached to the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head. The air prickled your skin, and the awareness that Joel was less than a foot away from your naked body had your nipples pebbling. You reached for your panties next, trying to pull them off your legs without being able to stand. When you finally got them off you crossed your arms over your breasts and sighed.

“Ok I’m ready.”

He turned slowly averting his eyes for your sake, but you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened when his eyes fell on you. He reached down slowly, gently and slid his hands beneath your naked thighs and lifted you effortlessly. As if you weighed no more than a feather. You silently prayed he couldn’t feel your arousal as his hands hovered dangerously close to the evidence. He lowered you into the bath cautiously, like you were a newborn baby and you bit your lip to keep from kissing him. His hot breath fanned your cheek as he adjusted you and you leaned back, too intoxicated with how the hot water felt on your overstimulated body. You moaned a little and flicked your eyes to his, still covering your breasts. He was standing over you, frozen, jaw clenching and unclenching- fists tight by his sides.

“Too hot?” He breathed, voice rougher than usual.

You shook your head slowly, refusing to break his stare.

He nodded and abruptly left shutting the door quietly behind him. You sink down further into the water, heart racing. The apex of your thighs begged for your attention but you didn’t dare, knowing he was just outside the door.

Your eyes fluttered shut, already anticipating him having to help you out of the bath. You shook yourself mentally- what was wrong with you? You weren’t like this. No man had ever reduced you to a quivering mess like Joel did. But the attention…. It felt so damn good. And you needed more.

—————————

Lemme know what you think of this chapter guys. I like a slow burn so bear with me. LOVE YOU 😘

#joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joelmiller

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pascalxp · 4 months ago

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PEDRO PASCAL on Jimmy Kimmel Live (no context)

#pedropascal #pedro pascal #joelmiller #joel miller #thelastofus #joelmillerfanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff

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hydraheartbreaker · 6 months ago

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If you just got notified that someone download all of your slutty tik-tok edits of pedro and sebby….

i’m doomsday prepping for the tik-tok shut down, and packing up the essentials.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #joelmiller x reader #joel tlou

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tobeholyistobeempty · 4 months ago

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joel miller • be quiet, or i’ll make you

“Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

WARNINGS - smut smut smut mdni, porn with some plot, forced proximity, feral!joel, risky/secret sex, brutal sex, size!kink, dubcon if you squint but mostly a mutual want situation, reader and joel have an unspoken relationship, copious amounts of dirty talk, piv, creampie, daddy dom joel.

The world ended in disaster.

You’ve lived with that knowledge for years now, and you think you’ve finally come to terms with the kind of things you’ll get from it. Pain. Loss. Destruction. The same chaos, day in day out, just in different forms.

You know that at this point you’ll be lucky if you survive until tomorrow; so you take it in stride.

And it’s with that thought that you find yourself following Joel into the city, your steps just as reluctant as he was to agree to this. You don’t particularly want to be out here — and neither does he — but you’ve been wanting to look for more medical supplies for a while now and Joel wasn’t about to let you go alone. Despite how much bitchin’ he did beforehand.

You can’t tell which is more depressing; the streets covered in broken glass and littered with remnants of a life long gone, or the buildings that are nearly crumbling to the ground. Neither are very pleasant to look at, but not many things are these days, so you keep moving. You have a job to do, and you don’t have too much time to do it — the sun won’t be up much longer, and you want to get the fuck out of here before the real dangerous kinds of people come out lookin’ for their next meal.

Or, whatever Joel had said earlier. Mostly just in attempt to scare you.

Minutes feel like hours as you keep your gaze pointed forward, and when you pass a shattered window belonging to some old broken down building, you don’t dare look inside.

You’d rather not know what lingers inside death eaten walls.

But it’s while you’re doing that, keeping your gaze ahead, that you miss the fact that Joel has stopped walking. When it finally registers that the world around you has gotten quieter - and when you finally do turn around - you’re surprised for two reasons.

The first being that he even stopped at all, and the second being the fucking look on his face.

“You alright?” You ask as you edge closer, glancing at the abandoned building that’s in front of him. It doesn’t look like anything remarkable, but there’s definitely something in the way he stares at it. “Joel, you still with me?”

He isn’t saying anything, his expression is rather blank — but you know him well enough to know that he’s not just seeing what’s right in front of him. He’s seeing something else entirely. He snaps back to attention faster than you would have expected at the sound of your voice, and when his eyes land down on yours - there’s something inside them that makes your heart sink.

“Somethin’s wrong.” Is all he says before he’s grabbing your wrist, and yanking you inside.

Your heart starts pounding faster, but you try your best to stay calm. He isn’t the kind of man who would panic without cause, so you know he must have seen something - or heard something - and you’re doing your best not to let that scare you.

“Joel—shit—what the hell—“ you stumble over rubble and pieces of broken furniture. “What’re you—“

He’s pulling you deeper into the building, not giving you a chance to stand still long enough to say more. When you get to a staircase he yanks you down a few steps, waiting for the sound of the door shutting behind you before shoving your shoulders back against the wall.

“You listen to me—“ he’s panting, words spat through grit teeth. “You’re gonna’ shut up, and you’re gonna’ stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”

The tone of his voice alone forces you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from talking. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve seen him this serious. You’d almost forgotten that he was capable of producing this kind of tension - the kind that’s so palpable it could be cut with a knife.

So, you just nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and you hope that it’s enough.

“Alright.” He doesn’t seem certain of your answer, but he nods anyway, reaching for your wrist again and dragging you down the remaining stairs.

When you get to the bottom, he opens the door slowly, eyes darting around until they land on a nearby closet - and it’s only after the first step you take towards it that you hear noises on the floor above you.

Footsteps.

And way too fucking many for you to be comfortable.

The kind of heavy, laden-boot marching you’d dread to hear on good days - nevermind while you’re out in dangerous territory, trying your damnest to flee unseen. It’s only seconds before the steps grow louder, and you can feel your heart rate speeding up again - while Joel is staring at the ceiling with such intensity you think that he might just be able to will it to break if he so much as blinked at it.

Then, in a flash, he snaps out of it - dragging you toward the closet and shoving you inside before you can even think about protesting.

And god, is it fucking cramped.

The closet is small. Small enough that you have to force yourself closer to the wall so that he has space to squeeze inside behind you. And it’s within the first second that he shuts the door, and the darkness swallows you both whole - in which you realize you have a new problem altogether.

“Joel—“ you choke out as a heavy palm snakes around your waist, pressing tight against your belly. He’s a solid wall behind you, his front flush against your back, and all you can fucking feel is his hot breath against your ear - his stubble tickling your cheek. “What’s—“

“No talking.” And then he brings his free hand up to cover your mouth, and you have to stifle a noise that threatens to explode in your chest. “Not a fuckin’ word.”

You take solace in the fact that he can’t see how flushed your face becomes, but your stupid brain is working overtime - overanalyzing the feeling of his calloused palm against your lips, the heat of his mouth way too fucking close to your ear, his free hand that seems to be sliding lower down your abdomen—

“Stop squirming.” He whispers, all heat as his fingers press a little harder against your lower stomach.

You long to bark at him. I can’t control it.

But you can’t. So instead you try to focus on the sounds of the people upstairs. You try to pay more attention to the way your heart is threatening to break free through your sternum. Anything to try and take your mind off of the way he’s touching you - but he makes it so, so hard.

You’re certain you would have a better fighting chance if you were to try and move mountains.

Without even thinking, your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and it’s then that his lips curve into a smile against your ear. And when the realization comes crashing down - the realization that he’s fully aware of what’s happening to you - you think you may just collapse.

Oh, god, this is torture.

If it were anyone else, you’d think this was a joke. You’d think that perhaps the way he’s touching you was some kind of attempt at making the terrifying just a little more tolerable, a little more exhilarating for different reasons - but this isn’t just anyone. This is Joel. And you know his mind never works like what. Instead, he simply acts on instinct - in ways that usually leave you reeling and your thoughts in a whirlwind.

You’ve been through this a million times with him.

Unsurprisingly, this time is no different.

And as you try to focus on the footsteps above you - desperately searching for a thought, a train of any kind to follow - his hand moves again, fingertips tracing the waistband of your dirt covered cargos - barely dipping between fabric and skin.

It’s slow, teasing, but it’s enough. And you don’t currently have enough control over yourself to stop your back from arching, pressing directly against the bulge in his jeans that’s growing impatiently despite himself.

And it’s the way he exhales in your ear, the way you hear him inhale right after before his nose brushes the shell of your ear — before his hand dips lower to trace the zipper of your fly — that you find yourself fighting for your life to swallow the moan that threatens to spill because the people on the second floor are now shouting and hollering, and the whole floor seems to quake under the force of their heavy boots.

A second passes. Then two, and then ten — there’s silence. You’re pretty sure the steps are now heading away from where you’re hiding, and you think Joel must agree because he slips his hand from your mouth, sliding it down your jaw.

“Joel—“ you choke out, the last syllables of his name sounding desperate. “I-we—“

And yet again, you aren’t able to finish, because he has a habit of taking the words you think you want to say straight from your chest. You aren’t able to process it until a moment later - when his mouth finds your neck, fingers slipping into your now unzipped cargo pants.

This isn’t what you meant.

You don’t have the chance to tell him that. You don’t have the cognitive ability to push the idea that this isn’t the time. You don’t even have enough room in your head to acknowledge how this could go so badly, so quickly. You’re too drunk on the high of his touch to think straight.

And when his fingers drag the lace of your underwear to the side - all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray to a God you’re sure you’ve never actually believed in that you’ll survive this without the shame over how fucking soaked you are eating you alive first.

His fingers find your clit, making slow, small circles. Just enough to make you keen. Just enough to make you forget who you are, and what you’re doing. You think if he keeps it up for any longer, the sounds trapped behind your teeth are going to jailbreak before you can get a handle on them. He knows it too - because it’s only a split second after that thought enters your mind, that he whispers gravel in your ear again.

“If y’can’t stay quiet, I’ll make you.” And it’s said with enough sternness to let you know that it isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. “Be good f’me.”

You don’t know if you can. You don’t know if you can possibly keep yourself silent. Not when his lips are teasing your burning flesh, not when his fingers are rolling your clit, not when he’s whispering promises of heaven in your ear.

But it’s then, that you hear the floorboards creak, and you know then, that you have no choice.

Either find a way to stay silent, or throw yourself headfirst into danger.

“Mm.” He hums as his fingers slip lower, sliding along your slit until they find your embarrassingly wet heat - to which you find yourself widening your feet despite yourself.

And this time, the noise that slips isn’t audible. Not to him anyway. But you can feel the sound vibrate the back of your throat. You can feel the way it glides over your tongue - and when you have the wherewithal, you bite down on your bottom lip, hard enough that it’s almost painful. He doesn’t seem to notice, and you’re glad because you know he’d only find it funny.

He pushes a finger into you, and holy fuck—

“Oh—“ the sound gets out of your mouth before you can stop it, involuntarily defying his direct order to shut the fuck up.

You hope, foolishly, it was quiet enough for him to not hear.

It isn’t, and as a result the hand that had been sitting lazily around your jaw slips firm over your mouth again, yanking your head back against his shoulder. You feel his fingers tighten as if to let you know that it’ll only get harder as his finger pushes deeper, and then retreats, pumping into you slow and steady.

“F-fuck—“ your whine is smothered against his palm, and you somehow have half the mind to realize the footsteps have stopped. Vanished. “J-joel.”

You’re expecting some type of response, some biting be quiet — but instead, all you get is a deep grunt in your ear and a roll of his hips against your ass as he slides another finger into your cunt, thumb brushing your clit.

And there’s almost no fight in you left to resist this - to resist the pleasure he’s pouring into your veins. You’d curse him if you could, if you could put more than four coherent words together to do it - but all there seems to be left in your mind is his name, which he’s using against you like he always does.

“Good girl.” He praises between slow, steady thrusts and you have to wonder what kind of game he’s playing to get you like this - to get you so undone you don’t even remember your own goddamn name.

Then again, you know better than to think there’s a game, at all. There are no games with Joel. He does what he wants and you’re either the benefit of it, or you’re the object of his ire.

But when a third finger slips into you, stretching and stuffing your cunt wider than you were mentally prepared for - you forget about any of that as you bite down on his hand as hard as you dare because it’s just too fucking much.

“J-joel—“ you try again, shaking your head. The footsteps haven’t returned. You have to believe they’re gone. You know Joel knows it too. “P-please—“

And like someone struck a match in a room full of gasoline, he seems to have decided that you’ve waited long enough. In the blink of an eye, you feel his palm leave your mouth, and move to the limited space between you. He’s unbuckling his belt.

“What’s the matter, huh?” He all but growls in your ear, still pumping his fingers deep. “Three too much for you? How d’ya think you’re gonna’ take my cock if you can’t even take my fuckin’ fingers.”

God. His voice is deep, dripping like sin. It goes straight to the center of your chest and you feel like the walls of your rib cage are cracking open. You have no idea how you’re going to be able to take him like this - especially when he’s so far gone it’s like he’s forgotten himself.

“I-I don’t know—“ and it’s the truth. You have no concept of how you’ll take a single drop of him in this state. But he’s already shifted himself free, pulling his fingers out to yank your pants down and slide his throbbing shaft into the slick space between your thighs. “F-fuck. You’re crazy.”

“Worse.” And you already know what he’s going to tell you just by the way the word drips into your ear. “M’insane.”

Truer words.

You never imagined that you’d ever find the thought of Joel Miller going insane so enticing. You imagine all kinds of ways you would have pictured it if someone had told you back when you first met - but somehow, this was never one of the things that came to mind.

“What does that make me?” You hiss as his fingers find your clit again, as he kicks your legs a little wider to slide his leaking tip against your slit.

“A goddamned fool.” He answers as he sinks into you, and there’s never been a more divine connection in the world. He groans into your ear, and you have to bite your lip again until you’re sure you might draw blood. “But you already knew that.”

And somehow, even still - you do.

Yeah. You do. He isn’t the type of man someone can ever know fully. He’s got walls and barriers built high - a fortress, impenetrable and vast - but somehow, you still manage to squeeze your way through it. It isn’t lost on you that you’re the only one who has.

“J-joel—go fuckin’ easy, please—“ you’re grabbing at the wall infront of you as he splits you open without so much as giving you a chance for breath. “It’s—been a while—“

And that stops him for a beat - but not for long, and not long enough. He still doesn’t go easy, still thrusts right to the hilt with the kind of power you’d associate with a man half his age - a man who (if the world hadn’t gone to hell) would be so close to retiring that he could taste the future on the back of his tongue - but you wouldn’t want him to anyway.

“I know, babygirl. I know. Just take it nice n’ deep, f’me. Just take it.”

And then he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you back so he can get even deeper, your spine arching just enough.

Fucking hell.

The sound that’s almost impossible not to make threatens to rip from the pit of your chest, but you bite down in time and it turns into something between a strangled cry and an elongated whimper. You know you’re going to be walking funny tomorrow - but right now, there’s no such thing as being able to imagine tomorrow.

“You—fuck.” It’s a whisper so pained someone might think you’re actually being impaled. In some ways you are. “Oh, god, Joel. Ohmygod you’re deep—“

“There she is.” He all but growls into your ear. “There’s the tough woman I know.” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly you might’d fall at the way he suddenly slams into you. “Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

You almost bite your tongue in half at the very thought of him doing that. Your mind is a wasteland of icoherent thought - and it’s then that you know with all the certainty in the world that you’d been done for the moment he came into your life. He always had a rough edge to him - but back then, when you first met, you thought it was just the product of a shitty life. But now, you know better - now, you know he’s just a good-natured person with an innate drive to protect - and you’d go to your grave knowing that you’d go there loving him for it.

Even though, right now, it feels a lot more like he’s trying to kill you rather than protect you.

“Ohhh, fuck—“ you hiss through grit teeth as he pulls out, dragging slow at tight, wet walls. “M’close to cryin’ now.”

“Mmm.” He all but purrs. “That’ll mean I’m doin’ my job right.” There’s heat in the way he speaks that you swear would burn even the toughest person. But then again, that’s always been something you’d only ever been able to say about Joel. “M’not gonna’ be gentle. You know you ain’t deserving of it right now.”

Another time, you’d tell him he was wrong. Another time, you would have argued that you hadn’t done a single thing wrong - but right now, your thoughts are just as lost as your voice.

Still, you try your best. “W-why? Because I—mmf—dragged you outta’ bed?”

“Wrong.” You can’t see it, but you’re sure there’s a smirk on his face. “You really wanna get into it? Wanna’ make a list?”

You don’t, but you have the horrible feeling that this is going to happen either way.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask with what little breath you can find.

“No.” The word sounds so simple - but in that moment, it might as well have been a dagger. “You don’t.”

He pulls out just so he can drive back into you harder, hand sliding from your hair and back over your mouth.

“First, you dragged me outta’ bed. That right there? Shoulda been spanked for it. Next, you got yourself pinned in a goddamn closet with me after raiders chased us down. Almost got us killed.” Another painfully slow draw out, followed by a hard drive back in - smacking your cervix. “An’ for what? Cause’ you don’t wanna’ listen when I say it’s too dangerous to be out here.”

There are a million retorts you could have - most of them have something to do with you being able to take care of yourself - but none of them even find the beginning of your tongue.

He’ll take that win. Just like he takes everything else.

“Not t’mention you’ve kept this perfect ass from me for far too long.” He’s fucking you hard now, head kissing your cervix with each long thrust and you’re crying out under his palm but the sound doesn’t escape. He makes sure of it. “Mmm, yeah. Far. Too. Long.”

You want to tell him to shut up - that he’s being an ass - but you’re two broken breaths from wailing at the sting on your cervix and the pressure he’s now swirling on your clit. The only thing that’s left for you to do is the only thing you can do.

Take it.

You roll your hips, shoving back against him with every thrust just to have him hit that much deeper - and if he has something to say about it, he doesn’t say it. But he seems satisfied with just that, and suddenly, you think he’s just as close as you are.

“That’s it.” His voice is tight. “Good girl. Just like that.”

His hips snap against your ass so hard you think you might end up bruised tomorrow, but the thought only adds to the haze in your mind.

“Ffffffuck—Joel—“ you mewl, pathetic desperate and needy as a whore, against his palm. His fingers speed up against your clit. “Oh!”

“Take it, baby. Make me fuckin’ proud.” He hisses in your ear, a groan slipping out between it. “So good. Pussy feels so good.”

“Gonna’ make me cum.” You try to speak - maybe another time you’d be embarrassed by how desperate you sound, but this isn’t that time and it’s not the time to be anything other than truthful. “Mmm—gonna cum J-joel—“

“Yeah you are.” He grunts, the rhythm of his thrusts stuttering just a little. “Squeezing my cock so goddamn tight. Fuckin’ cum on it, babygirl. Wanna’ feel you.”

The sound that pushes past his palm at just the last moment doesn’t sound like you - but you know it is. It's the sound of the kind of pleasure that you’ve never experienced before that makes your entire body feel like a rubber band that’s too tight, and you have the vaguest sense of your walls squeezing the life out of him but there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening at all - becuase your climax hits you like a goddamn freight train and its run you over hard.

You think he’s saying something - you know he is - but you can’t hear anything aside from the blood racing in your ears. Even still, you know exactly what happens next, because you’ve experienced it so many times. The way he loses himself, like he forgets every bit of control he prides himself for having and the need to empty himself inside you takes over.

He spills into you hard - and you love every second of it for the simplicity of the comedown.

It’s the kind of feeling that washes you in warmth. It’s the kind of feeling that tells you that the world is going to be okay, so long as you’ve got him and he’s got you. He groans and his hands come out to brace against the wall infront of you to hold himself up as he shoots hot jets of cum deep inside your cunt - and you can’t remember the last time you’d heard him breathe this hard. Though, truth be told, you can’t remember the last time you heard yourself breathe this hard, either.

Your mouth feels dry, your mind feels hazy, and your legs feel weak - and as he leans over you, he can surely tell all three - but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he drags his mouth over your ear with an inhale.

“Mmhmm.” He grumbles as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Look what you made me to do ya.” Your cheek gets the same treatment, and a breath later as he turns your head slightly, your lips do too. “Gonna’ have my cum leakin’ out of ya all the way back to camp.”

The sound you make doesn’t even seem human, but it’s muffled before it even comes - because he’s kissing you. And it isn’t a hard kiss like you’d expect - it’s slow and steady, and you know he’s doing it in a way to say sorry, as if he realizes he might’ve gone a little too far.

You smile into it, and he does too.

“You really are insane.” You whisper as he pulls back slightly. “My cervix gonna’ need a week vacation after that.”

“M’not a good man, darlin'. If I was, I’d say sorry for that.” He whispers with a small kiss against your lips. “But I ain’t. So, I’ll just tell you I’ll take care of you later as much as you like. That good enough for now?”

There’s only one answer for you. Only one that’s ever been the answer with him.

“Always.” There is a beat of silence, and you smile in the dark. “I love you.”

He pulls out of you, finally, leaving the part of himself behind that tells you how much he loves you too without verbalizing it. Soon as he fixes his jeans, he helps you fix yours.

“And I love you.” He whispers, calloused palm finding your own. “Let’s get outta’ here. The sooner we’re back, the better.”

And that, you can’t agree more with.

6K notes · View notes

mssalo · 7 months ago

Text

ma'am

Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub!Joel, dom!f!reader, oral (male and female receiving), nipple play (SUCKING JOEL’S NIPPLES like he deserves), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, desperation kink, Joel whimpering, explicit sexual content, mutual devotion, protective partnership, reader is emotionally supportive but firm, Joel finds comfort in being cared for (he’s babygirl) and Joel being so far gone it’s frankly adorable.

11k. enjoy.

part two: after hours

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller had always been the guy people turned to when things needed fixing—whether it was a busted fence, a tough decision, or clearing out a horde of infected, he was the dependable one. The solid one. The man who got things done without flinching.

But with you, it was different.

You weren’t like anyone else in Jackson. You’d arrived last winter, stepping into the town’s bustling life like you’d always belonged, and somehow, you’d made it your own.

People respected you—trusted you—not because you demanded it, but because you commanded it. You were sharp, resourceful, and unshakably confident.

Joel couldn’t decide if you reminded him of a soldier or a queen, but either way, it made his chest tighten every time you spoke.

It started innocently enough.

“Joel, we need these supplies moved to the north gate before sundown,” you said one day, standing by the depot, that calm, no-nonsense tone that made Joel’s stomach flip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied without thinking, the words slipping out as easily as breathing.

You’d looked up, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘yes ma’am’ type,” you teased lightly, your lips curving into that small, knowing smile.

Joel had flushed, shifting on his feet like a boy caught stealing. “Guess it’s just… habit.”

You didn’t push, just nodded and turned back, but Joel couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Something about the way you spoke to him—firm but never condescending, confident but never overbearing—lit something inside him he hadn’t felt in years.

Respect, maybe. Or something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.

The more months you worked together, the worse it got for him.

“Joel, grab the shotgun and cover me,” you ordered one day, crouched behind a rusted-out truck as infected skittered through the woods ahead. Your voice was steady, even in the heat of the moment, and Joel’s chest swelled as he followed your lead without question.

Another time, while patrolling the perimeter, you had said, “Check the west side at dusk. Let me know if anything’s out of place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel had answered automatically, his voice softer, almost reverent.

You didn’t always notice how easily he fell into step with you, how much he craved the way you trusted him to follow through.

But Joel noticed. Every damn time.

And it wasn’t just respect—though that was there too—it was something raw and magnetic. Something that made his chest tighten and his cock stir in ways that left him fumbling for composure.

It wasn’t just the way you spoke. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you moved through the world with confidence that was effortless, never forced.

You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone—you just were. You called the shots when they needed calling, and people listened, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Joel wanted to. And more than that, he liked it.

One night, it all came to a head.

Jackson was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns strung between buildings. Joel was walking back from the stables when he spotted you on the porch of the town hall, a map spread across the railing in front of you.

The way the light hit your face, catching on your jawline and softening your features, made his chest ache.

“Joel,” you called, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.

He froze for half a second before making his way over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel.

His pulse quickened as he got closer, his eyes darting over you—your loose hair falling over one shoulder, the curve of your wrist as you held the edge of the map, the faint furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. “Come take a look at this,” you said, motioning him closer.

Joel stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked at the map.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, and Joel had to force himself to focus on what you were pointing at—a marked spot near the riverbank.

“Been seeing signs of movement out here the past couple nights,” you explained. “Could be nothing, but I want to clear it tomorrow. Need someone to back me up. You in?”

“Always,” Joel said immediately, his voice quieter than he intended but no less firm. His fingers brushed yours as he took the map, and he swore he felt a spark.

You smiled then—just a small curve of your lips—but it sent heat rushing through Joel’s chest. “Good. Be ready at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel murmured before he could stop himself.

Your brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his gaze sliding to the ground. “Suits you.”

Your smile widened just enough to make his heart stumble. “If you say so.”

With that, you folded the map, tucked it under your arm, and disappeared into the town hall, leaving Joel standing there like a damn fool, his chest tight and his jeans uncomfortably snug.

He swore under his breath, adjusting his stance in a futile attempt to ease the ache building low in his belly.

It wasn’t fair.

The way you got under his skin without even trying. The way you made him feel… lighter and heavier all at once.

Joel had spent his whole life being the one people leaned on, the one who carried the weight, and for once, he didn’t mind letting someone else take the reins.

Hell, he wanted to.

He wanted to follow you, to listen to you, to give you every ounce of control you asked for.

Joel stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door of the town hall long after you’d gone inside.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the ache in his jeans growing unbearable as his mind replayed the last few moments—the way your voice curled around his name, the subtle command in your tone when you told him to be ready, the approving smile that lingered on your lips when he’d answered.

It was ridiculous, he thought bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and yet here he was, rock-hard in the middle of Jackson like some lovesick idiot.

His cock throbbed against the tight denim of his jeans, a constant, humiliating reminder of how badly he wanted you—how badly he needed you.

Joel swallowed hard, adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage, though the motion sent a shiver of frustration through him.

This was nothing new.

Every time he was around you, it was like his body betrayed him, reacting to the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips, the smallest flick of your wrist as you gestured for him to follow.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

The way you carried yourself, confident and composed, made his chest tighten in ways that were equal parts admiration and raw, aching need.

You were everything Joel wasn’t. Steady. Collected. In control. And fuck if he didn’t crave that about you.

More than anything, he craved the way you made him feel. Like he could just… let go.

The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Joel bit back a groan, his hand clenching at his side.

He’d spent years—decades—being the man people turned to, the one who handled the tough shit without complaint.

But with you? He didn’t want to be the guy in charge.

He wanted to be the one following orders, wanted to be the one looking up at you, waiting for your approval.

He wanted to make you proud.

To hear you say his name the way you had earlier, with that faint hint of amusement, like you saw something in him that no one else ever had.

Goddamn it, he was pathetic.

Joel shook his head, muttering a low curse under his breath as he turned away from the town hall.

The walk back to his house felt like a blur, his thoughts too tangled to focus on anything but you.

Every step sent a dull throb through his cock, and by the time he reached his front door, his hands were trembling, his jaw tight with restraint.

Inside, Joel leaned heavily against the door, the cool wood pressing into his back as he exhaled shakily. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, the pounding of his heart loud in the stillness of the house.

The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots reminded him he wasn’t dreaming, though he almost wished he were—wished the memory of you wasn’t so vivid it set his whole body on fire.

His jacket slid from his shoulders and hung limply on the hook by the door, but the ritual did little to calm him.

His hand lingered against the fabric, fingers gripping tightly for a moment as though holding on to it might anchor him. But there was no escape—not from the way you lingered in his thoughts, the way your voice echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn’t shake.

C’mere, Joel. I need you to check this.

C’mere, Joel….

The words played on repeat, the confidence in your tone, the subtle curve of authority behind every syllable.

The way you’d glanced at him tonight, your eyes catching his for just a second longer than necessary—it was enough to drive him insane.

Joel groaned softly, the sound rough and guttural as he pressed the heel of his palm against the stiff, aching bulge in his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that might clear it. But it didn’t. It never did. He’d thought about you like this too many times to count.

Late at night, alone in the dark, his fist slick and tight around his cock, imagining you leaning over him, your voice a breathy, commanding whisper.

“Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

It was the praise that undid him every time, the approval he ached for, that soft edge of control in your voice that made his chest tighten and his hips buck into his hand.

Joel’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed off the door, his steps hurried and uneven as he made his way toward the bedroom.

His body was hot, his skin flushed as he kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, his breath coming fast and shallow.

He didn’t bother with the lights. There was no point when the image of you burned so brightly in his mind.

His hands fumbled with his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, kicking them aside.

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Joel wrapped his calloused fingers around himself, his rough palm dragging slowly along the length as his head tipped back against the door.

A soft, broken groan escaped his lips, and he tightened his grip, savoring the sharp sensation.

“Yes,” Joel whispered hoarsely, his hips jerking into his hand as the thought took hold.

The image was so vivid it made his knees weak.

“On your knees, Joel. Let me see how much you want it.”

He imagined you standing over him, your hands on your hips, your lips curved into that wicked, knowing smile.

You’d look down at him like you owned him, and Joel would crumble beneath that gaze, his body desperate to obey.

His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher as his chest heaved. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken. “I’d do it. Anything you want, darlin’. Just… just fuckin’ tell me.”

And then, there was the fantasy he couldn’t shake. You’d guide him down—your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him hiss as you tilted his face up toward yours.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Show me.” You’d press his face between your thighs, your warmth surrounding him, and Joel would lose himself.

He could almost feel it—the softness of your skin, the slick heat of your cunt against his lips. His tongue would trace slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring the way your body trembled beneath his mouth.

You’d moan his name, your voice breathy and broken, and it would be the only thing he cared about.

Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking off the door as his hand tightened, the slick sound filling the room. “Please,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Please, darlin’. Let me be good for you. Let me—”

He imagined you grinding against his face, your thighs clenching around his head as you guided him, demanding more. “That’s it, Joel. Just like that. Don’t stop until I come, baby.”

The thought of your approval, of hearing you call him a good boy as he worked tirelessly to please you, made his cock throb painfully in his hand. “I’d do it,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’d fuckin’ worship you, darlin’. Just say the word.”

The tension snapped, his body locking up as his release hit. Hot, thick spurts spilled over his hand, his voice breaking into a low, guttural groan as his hips jerked helplessly.

Your name fell from his lips, raw and reverent, as the pleasure coursed through him, leaving him trembling and spent.

For a long moment, Joel stood there, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped loosely around his softening cock.

The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, the evidence of his need dripping onto the floor, and yet all he could think about was you. Your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel like he could let go of everything and just… be.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he finally pushed off the door and reached for a towel.

He cleaned himself up quickly, his thoughts still tangled, his body still thrumming with the remnants of his release. But even as the tension faded, the ache lingered—the desperate, aching need for you.

For your voice. For your touch. For your approval.

And Joel knew he’d never stop wanting it. Never stop wanting you.

Because this wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until he had you.

Not until he could hear you say his name the way he’d always dreamed, soft and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders as you told him exactly what to do.

· · ───

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as you and Joel set out toward the riverbank, the chilly morning air biting at your cheeks. Joel kept a steady pace beside you, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dense treeline with practiced precision.

Despite the tension that always came with patrols, there was a comfort in your presence—a grounding force that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, familiar and steady, and Joel found himself stealing glances at you more than he should.

You walked with such assuredness, each step purposeful, and the soft sway of your hips had him swallowing harder than necessary.

He tried to focus, but your commanding presence made it impossible not to feel both overwhelmed and grounded.

“See this?” you murmured, crouching near a patch of disturbed dirt. Your voice was low, clipped, yet patient as you gestured for him to come closer. “Looks like someone’s been through here recently. More than one.”

Joel crouched beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he examined the ground.

The way your hair caught the morning light, the subtle curve of your neck—it was too much. His chest tightened as he forced his gaze to the dirt and away from the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended. “Could be raiders.”

“Could be,” you agreed, straightening and adjusting the strap of your pack. “Let’s keep moving. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out instinctively.

You glanced at him, one brow arching, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

You turned without a word, leading the way through the uneven terrain. Joel followed close behind, his pulse quickening with every step.

You always had this effect on him, like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help but be pulled in.

The ambush came fast.

Raiders poured from the treeline, their weapons raised, shouts breaking the morning quiet.

Joel moved on instinct, diving behind a fallen log and returning fire, but it was you who commanded the chaos with sharp, decisive orders.

“Joel! Left flank! Cover me!”

He obeyed without question, his rifle steady as he took down one of the raiders attempting to circle around.

Even in the heat of the moment, his eyes kept darting to you—how you moved like a ghost through the underbrush, your aim deadly, your composure unshaken.

But when one of them charged at your blind spot, Joel didn’t think. He moved.

The gunshot echoed like thunder as he dropped the man with a single shot.

You spun to face him, your eyes wide—not with fear but with something else. Relief? Gratitude? Whatever it was, it made his chest swell.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone steady despite the chaos. “But I told you—stay back.”

Joel gritted his teeth but nodded, ducking back behind cover as you finished off the last of the raiders.

When the dust settled, you stood amidst the wreckage, your rifle slung over your shoulder, your expression calm but sharp.

You scanned the area one last time before nodding.

“We’re clear,” you said, turning toward him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, though his arm burned where a bullet had grazed him.

He shifted, trying to hide the blood seeping through his sleeve.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re hit.”

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“It’s not nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your hand grabbed his arm, firm but not harsh. “We’re done here. You’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

Joel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I can keep goin’. I’m fine.”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry, almost dangerous smile.

“Joel,” you said, your voice low but laced with authority that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do I look like I’m asking?”

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

“Good.” Your fingers lingered on his arm for just a second longer than necessary, the heat of your touch branding him, before you turned toward the horses. “Let’s move.”

At the clinic, Joel sat on the cot, his shirt discarded, the gash on his arm raw and angry. He winced as the doctor worked, stitching the wound with quick precision.

But his eyes weren’t on the needle or the thread—they were on you, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

“You’ll need to rest for at least a couple days,” the doctor said, tying off the final stitch. “No patrols, no heavy lifting.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp glance silenced him immediately.

“Got it,” you said curtly, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you.”

When the doctor left, you turned to Joel, your arms dropping to your sides as you stepped closer. “Let’s get you home.”

Back at his house, you guided him inside, your hand on his arm, your touch firm and steady.

Joel sank onto the couch with a groan, his body heavier than he wanted to admit. You moved with purpose, disappearing into the kitchen before reappearing with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a look that had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Let me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You knelt beside him, pressing the cloth gently to his arm. Joel swallowed hard, his breath catching at the sight of you so close, your fingers brushing against his skin.

The faint scent of you—clean and sharp, with a hint of something sweet—filled his senses, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out.

When you finished, you sat back on your heels, your eyes meeting his. “Joel,” you said softly, “why do you push yourself so hard?”

Joel looked away, his jaw tightening. “Don’t wanna feel useless,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna… be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you said firmly, leaning closer, your voice carrying a weight that made Joel’s chest ache. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his breath catching at the intensity in your gaze. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I just wanna be good for you. Wanna make you proud.”

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips.

“You already are, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to cup his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and Joel leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Joel’s breath was uneven, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh as he struggled to find the words.

You sat beside him on the couch, quiet and steady, your eyes on his face, your expression calm yet unreadable. It only made him more frantic.

“I—I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel stammered, his voice rough and breaking.

He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm trembling slightly as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I need… I need you close. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but I—I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak. You just nodded slowly, your gaze unwavering, and it made him feel both exposed and comforted all at once. The tension in his chest was unbearable.

“I—dammit,” he muttered, his voice thick, his gaze darting everywhere but your face.

“I’m tryin’ to say it right, but I don’t—I can’t—I need you, alright? I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you—how you’re always so damn steady, and you—”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally locking on yours. They were glassy now, his vulnerability laid bare. “You make it easier, y’know? Just bein’ around you… I feel like I can breathe. Like maybe I ain’t so—so broken after all. And I… I need that. I need you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t pitying. It was understanding, warm, and Joel swore it made his chest ache even more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. “You like me…romantically?”

Joel froze for a moment, his breath catching as your words settled over him. His lips parted, but all he could do was nod, the movement small and jerky, like he was afraid to admit it outright.

“Want to be good for me?” you asked, your voice a low, soothing hum.

Joel’s nod came faster this time, his breathing growing heavier as he leaned into you, desperate for something he couldn’t quite name.

You leaned in slowly, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your lips to his, soft and lingering, and the low, guttural sound he made against your mouth was filled with need.

His hand reached out, gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, and his lips parted under yours, seeking more.

But just as he leaned into the kiss, you pulled back, your face still close enough that your breath mingled with his.

“Get better for me first, yeah?” you murmured, your thumb trailing along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “No, please,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate.

“Please, I can’t—I’ve been waitin’ for so long. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

You shushed him softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, and Joel practically melted under your touch, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back.

“You’ll wait,” you said firmly, though your tone was still warm. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go. But first, I need you strong, Joel. Need you rested. Yeah?”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Alright. But just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Well…you know me, baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the crown of his head.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were real. And as the weight of the moment settled between you, he felt something he hadn’t in years—peace.

· · ───

Joel had never been good at resting, but being sidelined for days was pure torture.

His arm still kinda ached where the stitches pulled at the edges of the wound, but the pain was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety that came from not seeing you.

Three days felt like a lifetime, and every hour that passed without you made his chest feel tighter.

You’d been on patrol since the crack of dawn, and Joel had spent most of the day pacing around his house, every creak of the floorboards setting his nerves on edge.

He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with the doctor or you, so he’d stayed home, but the absence of your presence was like a physical ache.

He’d heard the patrol schedule—you were checking the area near the riverbank, where the raiders had been sighted.

The thought of you out there, alone or with someone who wasn’t him, made his stomach churn.

Joel knew you could handle yourself—he’d seen it firsthand—but the idea of you in danger without him there to back you up was unbearable.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel couldn’t take it anymore.

His boots thudded against the wooden floors as he grabbed his jacket and rifle, the pain in his arm be damned.

If he didn’t see you soon, he was going to lose his mind.

The gates of Jackson were quiet, the air cool and crisp as Joel made his way toward the watchtower. A few guards gave him curious glances, but no one stopped him. He wasn’t exactly known for staying out of trouble, injured or not.

“Have you seen her?” Joel asked one of the guards at the gate, his voice gruff.

“Think she’s still out near the west ridge,” the man replied, tilting his hat back. “They were due back an hour ago, though.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. An hour ago. His grip on his rifle tightened as he set off toward the west ridge, his boots crunching against the gravel.

The relief was like a flood when he spotted you in the distance, your silhouette unmistakable against the fading light.

You were walking back toward the gates, your pack slung over your shoulder, your rifle in hand. Joel’s breath hitched at the sight of you, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel barked, his voice harsher than he intended as he reached you.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his tone. “Patrol. Where I said I’d be.”

“You were late,” Joel muttered, his gaze sweeping over you, searching for any sign of injury. “Anything happen out there?”

“Couple of runners,” you replied, brushing past him toward the gate. “Nothing bad.”

Joel followed you, his chest tight as he struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve sent word. Let someone know you were runnin’ behind.”

You turned to face him then, your eyes sharp. “Joel, I’m fine. I’m more worried about why you’re out here when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was worried about you,” Joel admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Didn’t like not knowin’ if you were okay.”

Your expression softened, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Joel, I told you I’d be back.”

“And what if somethin’ had happened?” Joel pressed, his voice growing rough. “What if—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. “Hey,” you said softly, your tone soothing. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the steadiness in your gaze. “I know you can,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel huffed a laugh, the sound low and rough. “Ain’t what I meant, but… yeah, take it how you want.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him toward the gate. “Let’s get you home. You’re not supposed to be out here.”

Joel wanted to argue, but the warmth in your voice and the steady grip on his arm made it impossible.

He let you guide him back toward his house, the tension in his chest slowly unwinding with every step.

The walk back to Joel’s house was quiet at first, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm. But as you neared the porch, Joel’s tongue loosened, and the floodgates opened.

“What was it like out there today? Was it quiet before the runners? Were they close? You eat somethin’? Drink enough water?”

You chuckled softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Joel, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his steps faltering slightly as you led him inside. “Just… can’t stop thinkin’ about it. About you. Out there without me.”

His voice was rough, his words tumbling out so quickly he barely had time to filter them. “I mean, I know you’re capable—hell, more than capable—but I wasn’t there, and… I hate not bein’ there.”

You stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face him. Joel’s eyes darted over you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, his breathing uneven, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“You’re rambling, Joel,” you said softly, your voice calm and steady as you reached up to cup his cheek.

Joel froze, his breath hitching at your touch, his wide eyes locking onto yours. “I just…” he began, his voice faltering. “I just—”

“Hush,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere for another 4 days.”

Joel exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “I know,” he rasped. “I know, but I can’t stop—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips soft and warm against his, and Joel melted beneath it, his whole body going taut before he relaxed into the moment.

His hands found your hips, tentative at first, then firm, gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear.

When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a heartbeat before he caught himself, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you.

You smiled softly, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the space between you.

Joel’s lips parted as if to speak, but before he could, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time. His groan was low and deep, the kind that seemed to come from the very center of him, vibrating through your chest.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his need unmistakable.

When your lips parted and your tongue brushed against his, Joel whimpered—a sound so desperate, so raw, it sent a rush of heat straight through you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly into the kiss, and Joel’s grip faltered for a second, his lips pulling into a shaky smile against yours.

“Why’re you laughin’?” he asked, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re eager,” you teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. “It’s sweet.”

Joel groaned again, his cheeks flushing as his hands smoothed up your sides. “Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “You’re drivin’ me crazy, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this for too long.”

His gaze dropped, and his eyes darkened as they settled on the curve of your breasts, visible through the gap in your blouse.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare without permission. “You’re perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you ran your fingers along his jaw. “Joel,” you said, your tone firmer now, and he immediately snapped his gaze back up to meet yours, his breath hitching. “What are you lookin’ at?”

His cheeks went even redder, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips quirked into a sly smile, and you reached up to unbutton the top of your blouse slowly, deliberately. Joel’s eyes tracked every movement, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his cock straining visibly against his jeans.

“You’ve healed up, huh?” you asked, your tone playful, and Joel nodded quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Barely feel it,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, darlin’. Please let me—”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as you pushed the blouse from your shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“Go ahead, Joel,” you said, your voice steady but laced with heat. “If you think you can handle it.”

Joel groaned, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed into yours.

His kisses were messy, desperate, his lips sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed your body, shaky but reverent, sliding up your ribs and hovering just below your chest.

“Eager little thing,” you murmured against his mouth, and Joel whimpered at the words, his hips pressing against yours as his arousal became undeniable.

“Can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice shaky and desperate. “Been wantin’ to get my mouth on you for so long. Wanna lick every inch of you. Fuck, those pretty nipples—been dyin’ to suck on ‘em, darlin’. Let me taste you, please.”

The way his voice cracked, the way he clung to you—it was enough to make your resolve waver. But you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. Not yet.

“Bed,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to guide him toward the bedroom. Joel followed without hesitation, his hands still on you, his body trembling with barely-contained need.

“Sit down, baby,” you murmured, your voice firm but teasing as you pushed him gently onto the mattress.

Joel sat immediately, lips wet and swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he was desperate to worship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to your chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You stepped between his legs, running your hands up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you’ve been dreamin’ about, Joel?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in close. “Me, standin’ over you like this, lettin’ you look your fill?”

Joel groaned, his head tipping back as his hips jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Every night, darlin’. I—fuck—I think about you all the time. Can’t stop.”

You smirked, running your hands higher until your fingers brushed against the hard, throbbing bulge straining beneath his jeans. Joel’s breath hitched, his hips lifting slightly as if to chase your touch.

“Bet you’ve been strokin’ that cock to the thought of me, haven’t you?” you purred, your nails scraping lightly along his thighs.

“Thinking about my tits, my mouth, wonderin’ what it’d feel like to have me all over you?”

Joel let out a broken whimper, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he nodded. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Fuck, yes. I think about you all the time—Drives me crazy.”

You laughed softly, Joel’s eyes focused, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you, his gaze zeroing in on your breasts, the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air.

You reached up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them lightly, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Wanna taste them, baby? Wanna feel my tits in your mouth?”

Joel groaned loudly, his hands clenching into fists as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, let me—fuck, let me taste them."

You smirked, stepping closer and guiding his hands to your hips. “Go on then, baby,” you murmured, leaning in until your chest was level with his face. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples with a desperate groan.

His lips were hot and eager, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. “Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

Joel whimpered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he switched to your other nipple. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, his lips tugging and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Finally” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less desperate.

You chuckled softly, grinding your hips against his lap, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh. “You’re so needy,” you teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

Joel shook his head, his mouth still attached to your nipple as he let out a low, guttural moan. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he rocked against you, his cock throbbing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“Can’t help it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You’re all I think about. All I want.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Then be a good boy for me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Keep sucking.”

Joel groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved back to your breast, sucking and licking with renewed fervor. His hips bucked against yours, his need spilling out in every touch, every sound.

“You like these, baby?” you murmured, cupping your breast and brushing your thumb over your wet, glistening nipples. “My sweet boy likes them, hm?”

Joel froze for a moment, his pupils dilating as the meaning of your words sank in. His hips bucked sharply, and he let out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“Fuck, I-,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the headboard. “Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry—I can’t… I’m—fuck!”

You felt the unmistakable heat and dampness spreading as Joel’s hips jerked one last time, his moans spilling into the quiet room. His face flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as he realized what had just happened.

“Shit,” he muttered again, his voice thick with embarrassment as he covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry. This is so stupid—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, your voice firm but soothing as you brushed his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath. The sight of him—flushed, desperate, and utterly wrecked—only made you want him more.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m flattered, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come in your pants for me.”

Joel let out a choked sound, his hips twitching involuntarily beneath you.

“I… fuck, darlin’, you make me crazy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I need you. Please… let me make it up to you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Still wanna keep going, baby?” you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “After you’ve already made such a mess?”

Joel nodded frantically, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop, ma’am. Please… let me taste you. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head as you studied him, your expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Undress me,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm.

Joel flushed, his hands moving to your waist again. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission.

You nodded, leaning back onto the bed as you let him guide the fabric down your legs, his touch careful but firm.

By the time your pants were off, you were sprawled out on the bed, your back resting against the pillows.

Joel knelt between your legs, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail like he was trying to commit it to memory.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his voice breaking slightly as his fingers slid along the waistband of your panties.

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hands clumsy but desperate as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down your legs.

He paused when he saw your panties, a visible wet spot already soaking through the fabric. His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky, “Fuck… look at that. So wet for me, darlin’. Goddamn.”

His hands trembled as he paused, glancing up at you for reassurance.

You smirked, one eyebrow arching as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"Go on, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and encouraging. "You've got me all to yourself. Do what you've been dreaming about."

Joel’s hands hovered over your hips for a moment before he finally let them settle there, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your panties.

Joel settled between your legs like he was kneeling before an altar, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling as he slid along the waistband of your panties.

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wide with need, and you gave him the softest smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you gently tugged him closer.

“yeah, baby” you murmured, your voice dripping with encouragement.

His breath hitched, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He kissed you there, slow and reverent, his beard grazing your flesh and sending shivers through you. Each kiss was accompanied by a low, throaty groan, his lips moving steadily closer to the source of your heat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he reached the edge of your panties. His nose pressed against the damp fabric, and he inhaled sharply, the sound guttural and desperate.

“Fuck, you smell so good, darlin’. Like heaven—sweet, wet heaven.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your thighs, holding you open as he buried his face against you, nuzzling and inhaling like he couldn’t get enough.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calves, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his breath and the wet heat of his mouth against your panties.

“Been dreamin’ about this—about your sweet cunt for so fuckin’ long. Want it so bad, baby. Wanna taste you—wanna lick you, suck that pretty clit between my lips and drink you down till there’s nothin’ left.”

You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, encouraging him.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice low and breathless. “You wanna eat me out, baby? Wanna show me how good that mouth of yours is? Then take them off.”

Joel knelt between your thighs, trembling as he slid your soaked panties down your legs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitched when your cunt was fully exposed to him, glistening and perfect.

His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths as he just stared for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You just gonna look, Joel?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently. “Or are you gonna be a good boy and show me what you can do?”

That broke him. His head dipped instantly, his breath ghosting hot over your slick folds as he whispered, “Yes… yes, ma’am.” His voice was low, reverent, almost a prayer.

The first touch of his tongue was hesitant but deliberate, a slow drag from your entrance to your clit, as if he wanted to savor you.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled but deep, and then he leaned in further, pressing his mouth to your cunt like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft but thick with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so eager for it. Just like that.”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t answer.

He was too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open as he worked his tongue through every inch of your folds.

His breath hitched as he tasted you, his lips sealing over your clit for a moment to suck softly before his tongue returned to explore your entrance.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, your hips arching slightly into his mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that. Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this, don’t you? Love worshipping my pussy.”

His only response was a desperate, muffled groan and moaning as he shifted his grip, spreading your thighs wider.

His nose pressed against your clit, and he rubbed it there as his tongue delved inside you, slow and deliberate, tasting you from the inside out.

His breathing was ragged now, warm puffs of air against your heat between each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered hoarsely against you, his voice barely audible over the sound of his mouth working your cunt. “Fuck… taste so good. Yes. Yes, ma’am…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding him just where you wanted, and he followed without hesitation, his moans vibrating through your core.

His nose nudged your clit again, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice breaking slightly as he found just the right rhythm. “Such a good boy. Keep going, baby. Make me come.”

Joel groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit.

Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. “Keep going, baby. Suck my clit just like that.”

Joel whimpered against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls.

He groaned again, his hips shifting slightly as if he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress, completely undone by the act of pleasuring you.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as the tension in your core tightened to an unbearable degree.

“Fuck, Joel—don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He moaned louder at your words, his hands tightening on your thighs as he doubled down, his lips creating just the right amount of pressure while his tongue worked you mercilessly.

His nose nudged against your clit in rhythm with his sucking, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” he murmured against you between strokes, his voice trembling with need. “Wanna make you come, ma’am. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, waves of pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn’t even form words.

Joel groaned against you, his tongue and lips relentless as he rode out your release, his moans vibrating through every sensitive nerve ending.

When you finally came down, your thighs trembling and your breath shaky, Joel slowly pulled back, his lips glistening and swollen, his face flushed and eyes glazed with pure adoration.

He looked like a man on his knees at the altar of a goddess.

“perfect,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his gaze fixed on your blissed-out expression.

“Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice raw and hoarse.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Better than good, baby,” you murmured. “Fuck.”

Joel’s eyes darted to yours, wide and full of something raw and pleading.

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke, his voice trembling with need. “Please… can I keep goin’? Just a little more. I don’t wanna stop. Wanna taste you again, ma’am.”

His mouth found your clit in a featherlight kiss, his tongue flicking out experimentally, careful and reverent as though seeking permission.

His hands slid up your thighs, holding them open like you might change your mind.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hand threading into his hair and tugging just enough to stop him. “No, baby. I wanna feel you now.”

Joel froze, his breath hitching, and he whined softly against your skin, the sound almost pitiful. “But—” he started, his lips pressing to your clit again in a desperate, fleeting kiss. “I can make you come again. Please, I—”

“Joel.” Your voice was sharper this time, not cruel but commanding. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips glistening and his pupils blown wide. “You’ve been so good, baby, but I want you now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The words sent a visible shudder through him. He hesitated for half a second before pulling back reluctantly, his lips parted as if to protest but no words came out. His hands lingered on your thighs, squeezing gently as he swallowed hard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, the respect and submission in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for your next command.

You leaned up slightly, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin. His lips were parted, breathless, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“You’ve done so well, baby,” you murmured softly, letting your other hand trail down his chest. “But I need to see all of you. Let’s get this off.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto yours as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, the words shaky and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this moment.

One by one, you undid the buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the broad expanse of his chest.

You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed as you sat back to admire him.

Your gaze swept over the planes of his body—the strong curve of his shoulders, the scars that marred his skin, the soft dusting of hair on his chest.

“Fuck, Joel,” you murmured, your voice full of heat and awe. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, his voice low and unsure.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his scars.

“Oh, I do,” you purred, your tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re fucking perfect, Joel. Every inch of you.”

Your fingers grazed his nipples, and Joel froze, his breath catching audibly. The faintest shiver ran through his body, and he let out a soft, shaky, “Ma’am…”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Sensitive, huh?” you murmured, circling the hardened peaks with your thumbs.

Joel let out a broken gasp, his hips jerking into the air as his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and desperate. “Didn’t… didn’t know I -.”

“You didn’t?” you teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to one nipple before flicking your tongue over it. Joel’s reaction was instant—a guttural moan that sent a wave of heat straight through you.

“Sweetheart I-” he gasped again, his hands trembling as they hovered near your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I—fuck, I—”

“Hush, baby,” you whispered, shifting to his other nipple and sucking it into your mouth.

Joel cried out, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest arched into your touch.

His hips bucked again, and you could feel how hard he was, straining against the confines of his jeans.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know… didn’t know I could feel this good. Please, don’t stop.”

You hummed against his skin, your tongue teasing over the sensitive bud before you nipped at it gently. Joel’s whole body jerked, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured, sitting back to admire the way his chest heaved, his eyes wide and glassy. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.”

Joel shook his head frantically, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No,” he breathed. “Never. Fuck, it’s—ma’am, it’s so good.”

You let your hands drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs and the soft curve of his stomach. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky moan as your fingers teased the waistband of his jeans.

“You want more, baby?” you asked softly, your voice teasing and full of promise.

Joel nodded frantically, his voice barely above a whisper as he rasped, “Please… please, ma’am. Anything you want.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear, your eyes drinking in the sight of him as he was finally exposed.

Joel’s cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the head an angry, swollen red and glistening with his earlier release.

Pearly streaks of cum had smeared down his shaft, pooling at the base and even dripping onto his balls. You let out a low hum of approval, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Such a mess,” you tutted, your voice thick with teasing affection. “You’ve really made quite the mess, baby.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he avoided your gaze, his embarrassment clear. But his hips jerked slightly, almost involuntarily, at the heat in your voice.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” you teased, your fingers curling gently around his cock, feeling the slickness of him against your palm.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It just shows how much you need me.”

Joel whimpered, his voice breaking as he finally met your eyes. “I… I can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling. “You make me—fuck—you make me crazy.”

Your thumb stroked up the length of his shaft, smearing the sticky remnants of his cum before circling the sensitive head.

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening just a touch. “And I love how desperate you get for me. Let me clean you up first, okay? Can’t leave my good boy all messy like this.”

Joel nodded frantically, his lips parting as a shaky moan escaped him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice thick with submission.

You leaned down, your tongue darting out to trace along the underside of his cock, starting at the base where his cum had pooled and slowly working your way up.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and musky, and you let out a quiet, pleased hum as you licked him clean. Joel’s entire body trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he struggled to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ma’am… oh, fuck…”

You didn’t stop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, collecting every drop of his release before moving lower.

Your lips closed around one of his balls, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke him, coaxing soft whimpers and gasps from his lips.

His thighs trembled, his breath hitching as you moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.

“You taste so good, Joel,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you pulled back slightly to admire your work. “Such a pretty cock, too. Look at you, all clean and perfect for me now.”

Joel moaned loudly, his head tipping back as his hands clenched the sheets even tighter. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t deserve this.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing along the length of his cock, your touch light and teasing.

“You deserve every bit of this,” you said firmly, your voice dipping into a commanding tone. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you? Letting me take care of you like this.”

Joel’s hips jerked against your hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he nodded frantically.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Yes, ma’am. Please… please don’t stop.”

You leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit.

“You want more, baby?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction. “Want me to make you feel even better?”

Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours as he nodded, his desperation palpable. “Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. Just… please let me feel you.”

You smiled, soft and knowing, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Anything, huh?” you teased, your voice low and dripping with promise. “Then show me, Joel. Show me how much you want this.”

Joel’s hands trembled as he gripped your hips, helping you straddle him. His cock pressed against your slick heat, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through both of you.

His eyes flicked between your face and where your bodies were about to join, his chest heaving with anticipation.

“Don’t make me wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, ma’am. Let me feel you.”

You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, your breath hitching as you slowly sank down onto him.

The stretch was delicious, the thickness of him filling you completely, and you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, your hands bracing on his chest. “You feel so good, baby. So big—.”

Joel’s head fell back against the pillows, his lips parted as a choked moan escaped him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect. Feels like heaven, darlin’. I—fuck—I can’t believe this.”

You rocked your hips slowly, letting yourself adjust to the feel of him before setting a steady rhythm.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he bucked up to meet you, his movements desperate and hungry.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you leaned over him, your lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, Joel. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need.”

Joel whimpered beneath you, his hips stuttering as he clung to you.

“You’re… you’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. “The way you—fuck—the way you handle everything. The way you handle me.”

You tilted your head, studying him with soft affection as your hips moved steadily against his.

“Finally can let go, hm?” you murmured, your tone soothing yet commanding. “Yeah? Let me take care of you, Joel. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching as his hands slid up to cup your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hips bucking harder into you. “I—I worry about you, darlin’. But… but it’s an honor to. Always an honor.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, swallowing the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

His thrusts grew erratic beneath you, his chest heaving as he neared the edge.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his hips moved with a frantic rhythm beneath you, desperate and unrelenting. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel,” you murmured against his lips, your voice heavy with affection and desire. “So perfect, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“I—I can’t—fuck, darlin’,” he gasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You feel so goddamn good. Can’t… can’t hold on much longer.”

You cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek.

“You don’t have to hold on,” you whispered, your voice a soothing command. “Let go for me, Joel. Let me feel you.”

Joel’s eyes widened, his pupils blown, and his hips snapped up into you with desperate force.

“You’re—God, you’re everything,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hands slid up your sides, trembling as they roamed over your body. “Everything, darlin'. Don’t wanna stop… don’t wanna lose this.”

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” you reassured him, your own voice breathy and uneven as you rocked against him harder, the friction pushing you closer to your own edge. “I’m here, Joel. Always. Now, give it to me, baby.”

Joel’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed as a guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck!” he cried, his hands gripping your hips as his release hit him, his cock pulsing inside you with a heat that sent you spiraling.

The intensity of his climax triggered your own, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Your cries mingled with his, the room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, raw and unrestrained.

Joel’s hips stuttered beneath you, his movements slowing as he rode out the last shuddering waves of his orgasm. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, sliding up to cradle your back as he pulled you down against his chest, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room your labored breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. Joel’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with awe. “I don’t deserve you, darlin’. Don’t deserve any of this.”

You lifted your head, brushing your lips against his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “You deserve it all, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady but warm. “Every damn bit. You’re good to me—you’re good for me.”

Joel’s eyes searched yours, shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to hide. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering, reverent kiss.

"Now rest up. We’ve got work to do.”

· · ───

From then on, you and Joel became Jackson’s most formidable pair. Whether it was managing patrols, handling disputes, or protecting the town, people knew better than to question the two of you. Joel was your rock, steadfast and loyal, while you were the sharp, commanding presence that kept everything moving forward.

He was at your side for every decision, every challenge, always watching your back—and stealing those quiet moments when it was just the two of you. Joel wore his pride in you like a badge, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way his gaze lingered and his touch steadied you.

And every night, as the world outside grew dark, you both found solace in each other—a partnership built on trust, strength, and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

Joel always said it best in his own way: “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darlin’. Always.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I am not beta reading all of that so if y'all find any errors tell me or ignore them like I did the past 22 years. Hope this was fun for you - please comment your opinions (plsplspls). I kinda feel like this is too long idk-

love youuuuuu

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tagged-by-trauma · 27 days ago

Text

Hands behind your back

After a long day and a very relaxing shower Joel waits for you sitting on your bed. He shows you just how tough his day was between quiet groans and dirty glances. Pairing: jackson!Joel x f!reader Warnings: established realtionship, explicit sexual content (+18), dom!joel/sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), deep throating/throat fucking, hair pulling, boot riding (uhm... yeah), cum eating, soft aftercare and cuddles, but basically just full on porn without much plot Word count: 2.2k A/N: Hey everyone! I'm still new to fanfiction writing and this is my very first attempt at it. I would highly appreciate it if you left some feedbacks or your opinions about what should I improve! P.S: English is not my first language, so sorry if I made any mistake or typo! Also, if I left anything out from the warnings just yell!

Nighttime always came quickly and quietly in the little town that was Jackson. This small settlement that was hugged by mountains, forests, abandoned buildings and high walls that kept out every possible danger. This settlement where even though hell was raging outside the gates, the days were full of life and laughter. The town hall loud with the sound of cutlery clinking and people talking. The streets lively with children running around and playing with each other while their parents watched with careful and protective eyes.

You were getting out of the shower, the bathroom full of steam, the little house staying in quietness. Standing in front of the mirror you looked at your blurry reflection. Your body covered in scars earned by successful fights against clickers or aggressive and eager raiders along the road. You pulled a towel tight across your form and opened the room’s door but when you saw what was waiting outside—or more like who—you stopped in your tracks.

Joel Miller was there.

You met him first when you arrived in Jackson and instantly knew that he was the grumpiest, toughest, most insufferable man you’ve ever met in your whole life. With his broad shoulders, quiet intelligence and thick shell he was a very new and different face in town. But somewhere along the way you realized that he wasn’t that bad after all. Yes, he had bad days where he gave everyone the deadliest gazes, pretended to be tough when a word hit home too roughly but you saw right through him. And you couldn’t resist him anymore, but neither could he. And now, now he was sitting on the edge of the bed with the most unsettling calmness on his face you’ve ever received from him.

You took some steps forward and he was watching your every move with a hungry gaze. His usually brown eyes were so dark with desire now that they almost seemed black in the low light of the bedside lamp, jaw tight with restrained want and hands balled up into tight fists on his thighs.

“Joel—” you wanted to ask him something—anything—but he drowned the words into your throat with one lustful and sharp look.

“Come here,” his voice was low and gravelly, commanding in a way you couldn’t explain and before you could even think you were already moving and standing vulnerably in front of him, towel drawn even tighter around you, knees brushing against his flexed thighs.

“On your knees. Hands behind your back,” you obeyed him, slowly letting yourself to the ground and looking up at him with wide eyes. He reached for the edge of your towel and with a firm tug he let it fall to the ground exposing you to him. His eyes raked over every part of your body with lust, and you shivered—either from the want that built up in you from only this command or the slow vulnerability scratching at you from the inside—goosebumps covering your forearms. His sudden demeanour sent a rush of wetness between your legs making you squirm and squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You don’t get to touch unless I tell you to, understood?” you nodded, your own arousal building with every ticking second. He suddenly leaned forward and grabbed your jaw between his thumb and index finger keeping you in place.

“Use that pretty mouth of yours,” he whispered as he moved his head down the column of your neck, his rough beard scratching the skin and his mouth blowing slow kisses to your pulse, teeth scraping the warm and flushed flesh.

“Yes,” you breathed softly and couldn’t focus on anything else just his mouth on you. He pulled back and you let out a gasp at his sudden distance. He looked down at you with the smuggest smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Good girl,” you felt yourself grow even wetter if that was possible and he leaned back on his hands, one coming to rest on the front of his jeans as he started to rub himself through the rough fabric of the denim, and you drooled at the sight of him, sprawled out on your bed, gaze fixed on you in front of him on your knees, hands behind your back.

He reaches for the leather of his belt and unbuckles it, the sound crawling up your spine and settling deep in your bones. Next the zipper came undone and you could see the huge bulge straining against the confines of his briefs. You noticed the wet patch of precum on the dark fabric and you couldn’t help but bite your lip and let out a small and needy whimper. He chuckled low at your reaction and stopped in his movements.

“You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

He reached for the waistband of his briefs and freed himself, his cock springing free and slapping against his covered stomach, your gaze glued to it. He was big, bigger than your previous partners, his tip flushed an angry red—almost purple from the restrained need—precum leaking from the small slit at the top. His hand reached down and grasped himself, letting out a strangled groan that didn’t sound humanly spiced with a swear. His hand started moving with slow and languid strokes, his thumb spreading the precum all over his length, coating himself.

He was feeling on cloud nine. You looking at him hungrily, like he would be the best fucking feast you’ve ever had, mouths parted, pupils dilated. He let his head fall forward, a low groan escaping from the deepest parts of his body. His eyes squeezed shut, not daring to look at you, because if he did he might have come undone.

Meanwhile his other hand came up to your jaw and caressed it with soft tenderness. Full opposite from what his right was doing. Your eyes moved back and forth between his cock and his pleasured expression. You closed them and started to move your thighs together, somehow releasing the pent-up tension that settled deep down in your stomach.

“Fuck, darlin’. Look at you,” his thumb moved across your lower lip and caressing it. You felt light-headed and breathless. Spiked by a sudden idea you seductively opened your mouth and took his finger into your mouth. He looked at you taken aback but his right hand sped up and you could see his cock twitching in his fist. You just hummed and swirled your tongue around him, hollowing your cheek.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he stuttered with a shaky breath. You wanted to pull your hand in front of you by habit, but when he saw your intentions, he pulled his thumb from your mouth and grabbed your throat with a careful but firm strength that knocked all the air out of your lungs. “No touching, remember? Otherwise I’ll have to punish you, darlin’,” you saw that he was serious, but couldn’t help and be aroused by the idea of being spread over his thigh, ass up and angry red with his handprints as he spanks the obedience into you.

“Joel—”

“Nah-ah, darlin’. Now, open wide,” you looked in his eyes, parted your mouth and sticked out your tongue. His arousal could be evident by the dark fire that was burning behind his lashes, and his hand came to the back of your neck, collecting your hair in one swift motion.

“Fuck, darlin’. Let me feel those perfect fucking lips around me,” saliva was already pooling in your mouth when you leaned forward and licked a stripe up from the base of his length to the tip. He let out and animalistic growl, his hand that was holding your hair tightening. Your tongue traced the curves of the veins that were running up on the sides. When you arrived to his head, you placed soft kitten licks there and lapped up the precum that was leaking from his length. He suddenly tugged at your hair and pulled you back. “Don’t fucking tease me, darlin’. I’m not in the fucking mood tonight.”

His hand guided you back to his cock and this time you didn’t hesitate to take him in your mouth. Your eyes found his and you let yourself take up the eye contact while you were going up and down on his length. You could feel his feet shuffling and you felt the tip of his boots between your thighs. You pulled back and let out a soft gasp, head tipping forward.

“Did I say you could stop?”, he pulled your hair back, so you could see his face now covered in sweat. “You’re gonna ride my boots while I’m gonna fuck your mouth, darlin’,” he slowly moved his boots back and forth, and you dived back down on his cock with a breathy moan. You swirled your tongue around his length, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper with every move. His boots were moving with slowness for the first few minutes but as you picked up the pace, he did the same. You were a mess at that moment, your only focus on making him come. The shoelaces were rubbing against your clit with every grind of your hips, your arousal soaking the rough material of the shoes, leaving behind a very prominent wet patch.

He also placed his other hand around the back of your head and carefully pushed you, making you take him deeper. You relaxed your throat, and when you could feel the tip of his cock at the back of your throat and the soft hair at the base, you looked up at him and studied his expression. Jaw slack, eyes squeezed, sweat collecting between his brows, threatening to spill down the line of his nose. You hummed around him, and the vibrations ran through his whole body settling at his brain.

He gripped your hair tighter and kept you in place as he pulled back his hips from your lips and thrusted forward once again. You were a writhing mess under his touch, eyes teary as his tip touched the back of your throat over and over again while his boots were continuing its movements against your swollen clit.

“Fuck, darlin’. I’m not gonna last long if you keep going like this,” his head fell back with a strangled groan, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his length he moaned your name and exploded in your mouth, the salty taste of him hitting your tastebuds. You pulled back and swallowed every last drop of him, opening your mouth so he could see.

“Good girl. Now, you get off by just riding my boots,” you nodded and grinded down harder. “You can move your hands, darlin’,” he murmured, and you obeyed, pulling your hands forward and placing them on his thighs, steadying yourself.

“Joel, I—” you moaned his name as your orgasm shattered through you. You were clenching around nothing and your legs shaking as you softly bit down on his denim-covered thighs. He was caressing your hair, your cheeks, anything he could reach.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he cooed with a tender voice, complete opposite to what he showed you just a few minutes ago. “Let yourself go.”

As you came down from your high, you slowly raised to your feet and looked at the mess you made on his boots. It was now covered in your juices, glistening under the low lights of the room. He unbuttoned his flannel and took it off, now completely exposing himself to you. You saw the faint outlines of his scars over his body and you couldn’t help but want to trace them with your fingers.

He pulled you down on the bed and tugged you close to his form, your head resting on his chest. This side of him was the complete opposite of what he always showed to people outside your house, and you loved it. Loved how soft he could get with you but be dominant if he had a bad day on patrol or someone annoyed him with their mere presence. It was like he was a completely different person with you.

You snuggled closer into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your head and the faint smell of sweat on his skin. Your hand came up to his face and rested on the little patch between his beard.

“Tough day?” you breathed against his skin, looking into his eyes.

“Hm,” hummed eyes closing, hands tightening around you. “Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. But I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course,” you said, and you could feel as his breathing slowed and his heartbeat calmed down. You carefully reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off, coating the room in complete darkness. As you settled back beside him, you gave a soft kiss to his temple and closed your eyes.

The bedroom was quiet except the low sound of a distant owl filling the otherwise quiet space. And here, tangled in the sheets—hugged close by his arms—his chest rising and falling under your cheeks, you felt like the world outside didn’t exist, and it was only the two of you.

#joel miller #joelmiller #jackson!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 2 months ago

Text

She fucked with the wrong one

Modern Joel Miller x Wife!Reader

Warning: Violence, NSFW

It was supposed to be a peaceful Friday night.

Just you and Joel, out on the town. No work, no phone calls, no responsibilities just dinner at your favorite steakhouse downtown and a nightcap at a cozy little bar with vintage lighting, country music on the jukebox, and shelves lined with every whiskey bottle under the sun.

You were tucked against Joel at the bar, waiting for your drinks. His hand rested lazily on your waist, thumb brushing against your hip in slow, absent circles, while his body pressed against your back like he never wanted to let you go.

He leaned in and murmured against your ear, “You know, if I didn’t already have you, I’d be tryin’ real damn hard to get you tonight.”

You laughed, turning your head slightly. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Maybe,” he said, lips brushing your jaw. “But you’re still blushin’, darlin’.”

You smiled and gave him a playful little nudge with your elbow. He grunted, let out a quiet chuckle, and then

That’s when she showed up.

The woman appeared like a drunk stormbleach blonde hair, sky-high heels, and perfume so strong it made your nose itch. She waltzed up to Joel’s other side like you didn’t even exist, leaning one manicured hand on the bar, the other dragging a red-painted nail down his forearm.

“Well hell-o, cowboy,” she purred, eyes glued to Joel’s profile. “What’s a man like you doin’ here all alone?”

Joel barely glanced her way. “Not alone,” he said, motioning to you. “Here with my wife.”

You gave her a polite, closed-mouth smile. “Hi.”

She blinked at you, then actually scoffed, her lips curling. “That’s your wife?”

Joel’s grip on your waist tightened, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

You straightened. “Is there a problem?”

The woman cocked her head, giving you the kind of once-over you only saw in trashy high school movies. “Just surprised, is all. I mean… he’s all rugged and fine as hell, and you’re like… I don’t know. A daycare teacher.”

You blinked. “I’m gonna let that slide since you’re clearly drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, sweetheart,” she sneered, voice rising. “I’m just sayin’ what everyone else is thinkin’. You must have a great personality or somethin’, ‘cause he could do better.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, visibly holding himself back. “Ma’am, you need to back off.”

You held up a hand. “No, no, Joel. Let her keep going. I’d love to hear what else she has to say.”

The woman rolled her eyes and stepped closer, almost challenging you with her stance. “You don’t scare me, sweetheart. Women like you never do. Fake nails, Target dress, thinkin’ they’re somethin’ special ‘cause their man sticks around. You really think he’s not lookin’ at someone like me when you’re not around?”

You tilted your head, smiling wide. “Fake nails? Baby, these are real. Wanna feel ‘em up close?”

She laughed mockingly. “Oh, please. What are you gonna do? Cry?”

You took a slow step forward. “No. I’m gonna give you five seconds to walk your cheap, loud, desperate ass back to wherever you crawled out of before I make you regret ever opening your mouth.”

She tilted her head. “Or what, little girl? You gonna throw hands in a bar over some cowboy dick?”

Joel stepped between you, holding a hand out. “Alright, that’s it let’s go—”

But she swung.

Her hand came toward your face like a slap, wild and uncoordinated but she caught your jaw with her nails just enough to sting. And in that split-second?

You saw red.

You grabbed her wrist and punched her. A clean, right hook straight to the cheekbone. The woman shrieked and stumbled back into a barstool, knocking over a tray of drinks. Gasps erupted all around you.

Joel shouted something, but you weren’t listening.

She lunged, and you met her halfway.

Hair pulling. Elbows. Punches. You got her on the floor, straddling her like a woman possessed. She screeched and tried to kick you off, but you landed another hit to her nose blood this time. She called you a bitch you punched her again. She slapped you yanked her head back by her extensions.

The bartender shouted for security.

“Jesus Christ!” Joel’s voice rang above the chaos. “Y/N, ENOUGH!”

But you were seeing red. You landed one more hit for good measure before Joel lifted you off her literally throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of sugar.

“Let me go!” you shouted, still kicking. “I WARNED HER, JOEL!”

“I know you did, baby, and she’s probably got a broken nose now, so we’re good, alright?”

The bar was dead silent as Joel carried you out, wide-eyed onlookers parting like the Red Sea. The woman lay whimpering on the floor, nose bleeding, heels broken. You’d ripped a chunk of her hair out.

Outside, Joel set you down gently, his hands gripping your shoulders. “Jesus,” he muttered, chest heaving. “You good?”

You blew a strand of hair from your face. “Yeah. You see her face?”

“I did. And I think a few cameras in there did, too.”

You winced, looking at your bruised, bloody knuckles. “Shit.”

Joel ran a hand over his face. “Alright. Come on. Let’s go home before we get arrested for assault.”

Back at home, the adrenaline had worn off, and your hand was throbbing.

You were sitting on the bathroom counter while Joel rummaged through the cabinet under the sink. He came up holding a first-aid kit and a bottle of whiskey.

“For me or you?” you asked, nodding at the whiskey.

“Both,” he said, pouring two glasses.

You watched him as he knelt in front of you, gently taking your injured hand in his. He examined your knuckles with careful eyes, thumb brushing over the swelling.

“You need stitches?”

“Nah,” you muttered. “Just ice. Maybe a little pride boost.”

Joel smirked, shaking his head as he cleaned the cuts with antiseptic. “I gotta say… you scare the hell outta me sometimes.”

“Why?” you grinned. “Because I defended your honor?”

He looked up at you, eyes softening. “Because you’ll throw hands without hesitation. And because-“he kissed your scraped knuckles “-you looked damn good doin’ it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Joel reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

“I wanted to,” you said. “She disrespected me. And you. And I don’t tolerate that.”

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then lingered by your lips. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

“You piss me off all the time.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t decked me yet, so I figure I’m still in the safe zone.”

You laughed, wrapping your good arm around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss o slow, sweet, grounding.

He pulled back, his voice low and warm. “You know what really got me?”

“What?”

“The way you said ‘mine’ when you talked about me.” He touched your cheek. “I liked that.”

You smiled. “That’s ‘cause you are mine, Joel Miller. Always.”

He stood, lifting you off the counter and into his arms. “Come on. Bed. You’ve earned it.”

You rested your head against his chest, fingers curling in his shirt.

“You’re not mad?” you mumbled.

He chuckled. “Mad? No. You defended what’s yours. I just hope that poor girl learns not to mess with a woman who throws punches like a boxer and kisses like a goddess.”

You looked up at him. “And you?”

Joel smirked. “I’m just glad I married you before someone else did.”

And with that, he carried you to bed your hand wrapped in gauze, your heart wrapped in him.

That woman may have picked the wrong one to mess with…

But Joel? He’d picked exactly right.

The house was quiet.

Joel had finished bandaging your bruised, bloodied knuckles with the kind of gentle focus that always made your chest ache. He hadn’t said much just murmured soft reassurances, kissed your temple a few times, and made you promise to ice it later.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he’d whispered once.

But now, the adrenaline had worn off. Your body ached, your knuckles throbbed, and the inside of your cheek was sore from where your teeth had bit down during the fight. It was late. You were exhausted.

You padded into the bathroom, peeled off your jacket, and reached up to unclip the gold hoops from your ears. One at a time. Slow. You stared at your reflection as you worked hair messy, makeup smudged, your lip swollen from when the other woman had managed to get a weak swing in before you took her down.

You didn’t hear Joel approach.

But you felt him.

His presence behind you was unmistakable warm and heavy like the summer heat. Then his hands were on your hips, gentle but firm, and his lips brushed the curve of your shoulder.

“You don’t even know what you did to me tonight,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

You shivered, still holding one earring in your hand.

Joel’s hands slid up your sides, under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing skin. “The second you shoved her away from me, I saw it in your face,” he continued. “That fire. That don’t-touch-what’s-mine look.”

You let your eyes flutter closed as he kissed the back of your neck, the shell of your ear.

“Got my ass hard the second you threw that first punch.”

“Joel,” you breathed, not sure if it was a protest or a plea.

“I ain’t ever been more turned on in my goddamn life,” he rasped.

You set the earring on the counter, heart thudding in your chest as Joel’s hands slid up to cup your breasts through your shirt, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until you moaned.

“I was tryin’ to let you cool down,” he said, grinding his hips against you. “But all I could think about was the way you dropped her for even lookin’ at me wrong.”

His fingers tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you, then his hands ghosted down your stomach and popped the button on your jeans.

“You undressin’ for bed, or undressin’ for me?” he teased, kissing the side of your throat as you leaned into his chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“Both,” you whispered.

Joel chuckled low, his hands slipping into the waistband of your jeans, dragging them and your panties down your legs in one smooth motion. You braced yourself on the bathroom counter, back arching, your bare body exposed to him.

He stepped back just long enough to undress, and you caught his reflection in the mirror shirtless, belt undone, jeans low on his hips, his eyes devouring you.

When he came back behind you, he didn’t wait. He lined himself up and slid inside you with a low groan, and your mouth fell open as your hips met the counter.

“Jesus,” he muttered, hands gripping your hips as he bottomed out. “Still so fuckin’ tight.”

You could barely breathe, the sensation of him filling you overwhelming after everything tonight. “Joel—”

His hand came around to your front, fingers rubbing tight circles over your clit as he started to thrust.

“Say it,” he growled, eyes locked on your reflection. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “Always.”

He slammed into you harder, jaw clenched. “That’s right. My wife. My girl. My fighter.”

You moaned, hands scrambling for purchase on the slick marble counter as Joel buried his face in your neck, lips brushing your skin with every thrust.

“You fuckin’ own me, darlin’,” he groaned. “There ain’t a man alive who could look at you and not know I’d burn the world down for you.”

Your climax built like a wave hot, sharp, and inevitable. You cried out as it tore through you, your body clenching around him, and Joel followed with a broken moan, thrusting deep one last time as he spilled inside you.

He stayed there for a moment chest pressed to your back, his arms wrapped around your middle, lips brushing the curve of your shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured into your skin, voice raw. “So fuckin’ much.”

You turned in his arms, breathless, and pulled his face to yours. “I’d fight ten more girls for you.”

Joel laughed, holding you tight. “Please don’t.”

He kissed your swollen knuckles, then your mouth, then scooped you into his arms and carried you to bed.

And there, in the soft cotton sheets, with the moonlight spilling in through the curtains and the weight of the night still humming in your bones, you curled up in his arms safe, sore, loved, and his.

Always his.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joelmiller x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joelmiller #the last of us fanfiction

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tteotlma · 2 months ago

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breathe you in

Dead,, needing to SMELL your lover to be okay????– GETTOUTTA HEREEEE

joel miller x reader imagine 2kwc

TW: 18+ MDNI; nsfw, post-panic attack intimacy, intense emotional vulnerability, scent as grounding, emotionally driven sex, power dynamics (consensual), begging, praise kink, desperate and talkative!Joel, soft domination, slow grinding, unprotected sex, deep emotional dependency, cockwarming adjacent energy, physical clinging, overstimulation potential

a/n: Also i’m def trying to bring back the casuality of what used to be posting on here…. There are many layers to this, which i could talk abt all day, but for now Bc i still love Joel, so very much

Imagine it’s late at night, you and Joel have gone to bed. You’re wrapped in the heat of your shared duvet, blanket tucked under your chin just how you like it. Joel had fallen asleep with his arm wrapped tightly around you, but that was hours ago, and… a man’s gotta spread. He’s sprawled out on the bed beside you, both fast asleep.

Suddenly, the bed creaks with an aggressive shake, and loud mumbling turned panic fills the room. You’re ripped from your sleep when the sounds of his gasps break through your dream barrier, and you realize Joel must’ve had another nightmare.

Throwing the blanket off your body, you sit up and reach over to touch his face, soft shushes leaving your lips.

“Hey, hey,” you cooed, “Joel, Baby—” You tried to pacify his cries, warming your hand against the curve of his jaw as you leaned into his side of the bed. He was frantic as he looked around the room, trying to reorient himself.

“Sweetheart,” getting on your knees, you move to straddle one of his legs, trying not to become frantic. “It was just a nightmare, look at me.” This had come out more stern than previous, and it seemed to break through whatever trance Joel seemed to find himself in.

His sounds softened as you continued to coax his attention towards you. Soon, the only sound that left his lips turned into heavy breathing as his hand shakily grasped your wrist against his skin. His eyes widen as he finally turns to look at you.

Cupping his face in both hands, you lean in, “Just Breathe—” his eyebrows curled, a hand on his ches,t “In and out,” your chest mimics your words.

“I—I—I—” He tries to talk, but you gently hush him.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to talk; just…” The hand on the center of his chest pressed deeper against the warmth of his shirt, silently reminding him where to focus. His hand came to rest atop yours, and he nodded. You locked eyes, and you noticed his pupils were blown wide.

You stay like that, still and close, for what feels like hours, though only minutes pass—as he slowly pulls himself from the fog of his nightmare. Then, without a word, his eyes drop to his lap. One hand drifts to your hip, the other settling at the bend of your arm, his chest still rising and falling in uneven waves.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, voice rough and low.

You hook a finger beneath his chin, gently guiding his face to yours. “For you,” you whisper, tucking a stray salt-and-pepper curl behind his ear, “anything.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek, tender and steady as you hold his face in your hands. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

The hand on your hip slides to your lower back, his palm warm and deliberate as he draws you into his chest. You go easily, folding into the hug, your cheek resting against the curve of his neck. He holds you there, solid, quiet—like the act of touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His face finds the crook of your neck while your chin rests on his shoulder. You feel him breathe you in. At first, it’s subtle and slow, his nose brushing your skin, chest rising against yours as he inhales deeply. He sighs.

Then he does it again. Slower. Longer. His nose drags across the slope of your neck, and his breath leaves him shakier this time.

You feel the edge of his teeth when he speaks, his voice low against your skin, the rough scrape of his stubble trailing higher as he nuzzles along your jaw. You tilt instinctively, baring more of your neck. His hand slides up your spine, fingers splayed, holding you firmly against him.

His lips hover near your skin—not quite kissing, but close enough to make you shiver. The coarse drag of his stubble follows the curve of your jaw as his nose nudges higher. You tilt again, offering more without thinking.

That’s all it takes.

His mouth finds your pulse. One soft kiss. Then another. Then one just beneath your ear that lingers a little too long.

When you turn your face toward his, his eyes drop to your mouth.

And then he kisses you.

It starts slow, careful, almost hesitant. His lips part against yours, and one hand moves higher on your back, holding you steady. The tension breaks when you sigh into him and your fingers tighten in the back of his shirt.

The kiss deepens. His mouth moves over yours like he’s hungry for it, like this is the only way he knows how to speak. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw. His tongue brushes yours, coaxing, tasting. You whimper softly, and he groans into your mouth like the sound unravels him.

Like, he’s not just kissing you.

Like he’s trying to hold on to the only thing that, to him, feels real.

“Every time I breathe you in, I want more.” He pulls back, eyes hooded as he stares at your now swollen lips.

“Please, baby… let me have more.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow and warm, watching the way your chest heaves beneath him. He sees it—the way your breath catches, the flicker of doubt in your eyes—and he doesn’t wait.

“Only if you want it,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “I’ll take my time. I’ll be gentle. Just… I need to be close. Closer than this.”

Another kiss, softer this time, pressed just below your ear.

“I don’t want to fuck. I want to feel. Want to be in your skin and know what it’s like to come home and mean it.”

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in again like it’s the only thing that calms the storm in his chest.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping across the stubble at his cheeks. You nod slowly, silently, teeth caught between your lips—and that’s all it takes.

Joel exhales like he’s been underwater, like he’s just come up for air. He shifts his weight and turns you both over in one smooth motion, laying you gently beneath him. His hands don’t leave your body, not once, as your thighs part instinctively to cradle his hips. He settles there, warm and solid, his full weight pressing you into the mattress. His chest hovers just above yours, his forearms braced on either side of your head, eyes locked on yours like he’s still asking for permission, even without the words.

He leans in, kisses you again—slower this time. His lips are warm and sure, his breath steadying against your cheek. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear the second he looks away. His hips roll forward, a slow drag of pressure right against the heat between your legs, and your back arches to meet him.

Even through the layers, you can feel the thick weight of him, already hardening as he grinds against you. The pressure is deliberate, controlled, but needy. Like he’s not chasing pleasure, but grounding himself in it.

"That’s it," he murmurs into your mouth, voice thick. "Just wanna feel you, baby. That’s all I need."

He shifts again, just enough to work one hand down between your bodies, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. You feel the soft brush of his knuckles against your stomach as he pushes them low, and then you reach for him too, helping him slide them off. The soft sound of fabric rustling fills the space between your breaths. When his cock presses against your bare thigh—hot and heavy—you both shudder.

“Take these off for me, sweetheart,” he breathes, thumb hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

You lift your hips, and he pulls them down slowly, carefully, like you’re something breakable. His hands linger on your thighs when he tosses them aside, calloused palms dragging back up the insides until you’re spread open for him again.

He settles between your legs and lines himself up, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds, already wet and aching. One hand rests at your waist, the other steadying himself against the mattress.

"Tell me if it’s too much," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll stop. I swear. I’ll stop if you need me to."

You shake your head immediately, breathing hard.

"Don’t stop, Joel. I need you."

He presses forward slowly, easing into you inch by inch. The stretch steals the breath from your lungs, your fingers curling into the muscles at his back as he sinks deeper. His body shudders above you when he bottoms out, buried completely.

“Fuck—Jesus Christ,” he groans, the words broken against your neck. “You feel like heaven. So warm… fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.”

He stays there for a moment, unmoving. His body presses flush to yours, his hand slides under your back, palm flat between your shoulder blades like he’s holding you there, grounding both of you. When he starts to move, it’s slow, deep, grinding strokes that have you gasping softly beneath him.

Each roll of his hips pulls a quiet sound from your throat. Your body clenches around him, clinging, wet, and pulsing as you fall into his rhythm.

“Needed this,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, raw. “Felt like I was gonna fuckin’ lose it tonight.”

His forehead presses to yours as he keeps moving inside you, languid, like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You’re the only thing that feels real right now.”

He holds you so close. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you wider, deeper. His mouth grazes your temple, your jaw, and your lips between every breath.

“Only time I can breathe is when I’m buried in you.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heel digging into the curve of his ass as you pull him in harder. He groans, thrusts faltering for half a beat before he finds his rhythm again, slightly rougher now, more desperate.

His mouth drops to your shoulder, breath shaking against your skin.

“Let me cum inside you,” he pants. “Wanna feel you wrapped around me when I cum.”

Your answer is a whimper, your nails dragging down his back. He kisses you again—messy and open-mouthed, tongue sweeping against yours like he needs to taste every part of you.

“Let me give it to you, baby—let me fuckin’ give it to you.” He thrusts hard with each syllable.

You nod, eyes fluttering closed, thighs shaking. His thrusts grow more frantic, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge with every desperate breath.

"That’s it," he groans. "That’s it, darlin’. You take me so fuckin’ well—always do. My good girl."

He spills inside you with a broken, guttural moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his whole body trembles above you. You feel every twitch, every pulse of release, warm and deep and grounding.

"Thank you," he whispers into your skin, over and over, voice crumbling. "Thank you. Thank you. Didn’t know how much I needed this until you. Until you."

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move except to press soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheek.

“Gonna hold you now, alright?” he murmurs. “Just wanna hold you for a while. That okay, baby?”

You nod, barely able to breathe.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest like he’s afraid to let you go. And for a long time, neither of you says anything at all.

a/n: pls don't let another one flop -- REBLOG TO SUPPORT <3

#pedropascal #pedro pascal #joelmiller #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #jackson!joel #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller smut #neighbor!joel #joel miller fluff #tlou

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doeeyezz · 6 months ago

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bye y'all my ride is here

#pedropascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #big nose #oldermen #javier peña #joelmiller

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pearlispunk · 6 months ago

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Never took you for a pervert, Miller.

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you borrow a jacket from joel, and it returns to him with a stain. he goes crazy over your scent, and he wants more. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified (but legal!) age gap, brief mentions of alcohol, smut, f masturbation, dbf! joel, perv! joel, dom! joel, spanking, choking, dd/lg dynamic (kinda), daddy kink, praise kink, light dacryphilia, pet names, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it please!), creampie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 4k a/n: i recommend listening to every girl gets her wish by saint avengeline while reading this! it really sets up the whole vibe >< enjoy °༄ !

It all started with that damn jacket.

“It’s so cold, Joel. Please.” You whined, skin shuddering from the breeze. “Told you to bring a coat or somethin’, y’never listen.” He huffs, shedding off the outermost layer of his clothes. He holds it over you, eyebrows raised combined with pursed lips.

You smile at him, quickly grabbing hold of the jacket and putting it on. You waste no time, zipping up the front of the jacket and tugging the ends of it to try and fit your body. It felt huge wrapped around you– it extended past your torso, and you had to tug the sleeves up just to use your hands.

You looked so cute like this, he thinks for a moment, staring at you blankly. His eyes raked over you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners if you stare?” Your voice chimes in like a chirp of a bird, and he’s back to reality.

He shakes his head, walking past you, “Shut up.” He mutters. And you smile.

You were fully aware of what effect you had on him. Ever since moving across his house a few months back, you’ve made it your life’s mission to make him fuck you.

It didn’t take long for him and your dad to form a friendship over football and beer. However, ever since meeting Joel, he was always just this stuck-up, grumpy– presumably lonely– middle-aged man to you. You were just determined to help him, what’s wrong with that? Every time your dad invited him over for dinners or outings, you made sure you wore something that caught his eye.

Even if that means wearing something skimpy during a cold weather.

“I’ll wash this up for you and bring it back tomorrow morning, promise!” You say, looking at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. He nods, shaking his hand in the air, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Is it wrong that he turns you on?

Is it wrong that you’re thinking about getting stuffed full of his dick? Of his cum?

“Come on, girl.” He calls out to you, and you follow.

For the evening, your dad had invited him to an outing. A fancy word your dad uses for just ordering take-out and eating it in the truck by the woods. They talked for a while, with pauses and laughs in between.

“.. Anyway, I have to drive back to our old place tomorrow.” Your dad says, biting down on his food. You nod before tilting your head, “Why?” He finishes his food before wrapping the packaging and throwing it in a piece of plastic, “Forgot some of my boxes, kid.” He shrugs casually then turns to Joel, “Keep an eye on her, would ‘ya?”

When you get back home, you rush up to your room. You sigh in relief, welcoming the warm air while taking off his jacket. You lay down on your bed, holding the jacket close to you and taking a deep breath of his scent. It was so distinct, so unique, so.. him. Your fingers trace over the fabric, a mental image of him appearing in your head. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your other hand hooks your panties down.

You take a pillow, placing the jacket above it. You straddle over it, forcing the pillow between your thighs. You lean down, burying your face in the jacket as you start grinding on it. Your pussy rubs over the cloth of his jacket, and you can’t help but whimper at just the thought of that.

You were like a woman possessed, chasing your own high as you kept his jacket close. It didn’t take long– his scent drives you mad, almost crazy, and just a few moments later, you let yourself unravel. Sweaty and tired, you collapsed on top of the jacket, coating it with your sweat and essence.

You woke up in a panic, your dad’s knocking alarming you. You sit up straight, tossing the jacket to the side and yanking your blanket over your legs. “Yeah, dad?” You clear your own throat, stretching out your limbs. “Joel’s here, and I’m going.” He says from the outside of the door. “Alright, drive safe!” You call out.

You make out the thuds of his boots down the stairs. You then eventually hear the engine of his car. You look out your window, waving your hand as your dad honks the car before driving off completely.

You get up, picking a pair of shorts from your drawer and putting them on. You grab the jacket from the side of your room, sighing to yourself before stepping out. You walk downstairs to the smell of a fresh coffee pot and some pancakes.

“Figured you could eat somethin’.” Joel’s voice grounds you, his back facing you as he finishes cooking the last pancake. “Coffee’s there, if ‘ya want.” He points towards his right, the tone of his back muscles visible through his shirt. You nod, setting the jacket on one of the table chairs. You help yourself to a cup of coffee, taking a sip before sitting by the table. He turns around to face you before slipping the plate of pancakes in front of you.

“I have to head out to the hardware store, d’ya wanna come?” He asks, sitting on the chair across from you. You nod, taking a fork and getting a bite out of one of the pancakes, “Mhm. Should let me change though.” Your voice is muffled, you haven’t finished the bite. “Now, sweetheart, I believe it’s bad manners to talk with your mouth full.” He grins at you, a smug look spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes, swallowing it before locking eyes with him. “Let me shower and change, Miller.” He chuckles, nodding as he takes a bite of a pancake. You finish your cup of coffee along with the pancake with a satisfied hum before standing up.

Oh! You almost forgot his jacket.

You reach over to the hunched cloth on the chair, grabbing it and sliding it in front of him. You’re off to the shower now, your footsteps echoing throughout the hallway.

He swears you’re trying to fuck him over.

After your little banter, you slip him his jacket and you’re off on your feet. He shakes his head with a smile before his eyes glaze over his jacket.

Just as he was going to turn his gaze away, something caught his eye. A stain. A dried-up stain that left a darker patch on the hem of his jacket. It couldn’t be water, it would’ve dried up normally. He’s familiar with it. After fucking around with multiple women in a variety of compromising situations, he’s all too familiar with what it was.

Dirty. Fucking. Girl.

He takes a deep breath, the confines of his shorts tightening around his hardening erection. He looks down at it, shaking his head.

This is fucked. He thinks, his hand going down to palm his cock through his shorts. He grabs the jacket, bringing the stain close to his nose to get a whiff of it.

Fuck. You smelled amazing. Something sweet, something fresh. By now he’s rubbing his cock with his hand, hips bucking up into nothing.

“Joel! Mind handing me a towel?”

Your voice cuts through his heated session. A grunt caught in his throat, shaking his head and trying to shrug it off by clearing his throat. “Yeah, erm,” He lets go of the jacket, “Where?” He stands up quickly. “Should be one by my room.” You hum from the shower.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters to himself, dragging his feet up the stairs and towards your room. He creaks open the door, scanning the room for your towel. He sighs, walking in and looking at every corner. Your scent is everywhere, making his head spin and cock harder.

He finds your towel hooked on the back of your door, and relief washes over him. He grabs it hastily, pulling a top you discarded days ago with it. It drops down to his boots, and he stares at it. A white lacy tank top, one you wear at home only. He takes a deep breath, every fiber of his being screaming no.

This isn't right, he's too old for you.

He was just going to put it back where it came from. What’s the harm in that? He was just going to put it back nicely, as if this never happened. He scoops it up, the soft feel of the fabric a contrast to his rugged hands. Then it hits him. Your scent. He can smell it all over the top. Didn’t even need to bring it close to his nose to be able to get a whiff of it.

He folds it neatly before tucking it in his pants.

Oh, he was going to hell for this.

It took you days to notice that some pieces of your clothing went missing. First were the tank tops you wore at home, you always tucked them away by the first drawer of your cabinet. Second were the laced bras you bought from a city a long time ago, you mostly just use it when you’re out. Then finally, your favorite white lace thong.

Joel started to come over more frequently, always by the front door with a pack of beer. Your dad was more than happy to let him in. It was strange, some pieces of your clothing came back during the days Joel was over. You thought nothing of it.

Not until you saw him sneaking about the door of your room. He had just excused himself to go the the bathroom, a routine you picked up on ever since he came over more. It was like a tick in your brain– you just needed to know what he was truly doing in there.

Instead, you catch him by your room, thong in hand, nose-deep, and cock hard. You were by the lower part of the stairs, enough to get a good view of what he was doing. Your eyes widen in shock, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

You had him hooked.

Joel knew how fucked up it was. He was inviting your dad for drinks and a good time, only for his main objective to be to sneak into your room and snatch a few pieces of your garments. All for what? Jerking himself off late at night, when all of his pillows are covered in your scent, when all he can think about is the way your hips move, the way your tits bounce.

He knew how fucked up it was, cumming on your garments, moaning your name, and imagining how sweet your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock. He knew how fucked up he was.

But it was better than actually touching you, than actually crossing the line and fucking his friend’s daughter. He kept a safe distance, he kept boundaries, and he made sure he never stepped the line. So, surely, this was better, right? He’d slip into your room, grab a bra, a thong, or a top, and he’d be satisfied. And that was enough.

It had to.

But goddamn you were making it hard. You were making him really hard.

You knew how to push his buttons, knew how to drive him to his limits. Every outfit you put on for him just got more and more enticing. And for tonight, his eyes are now shamelessly scanning every curve and dip of your body.

The hour was late, your dad had excused himself to his room– his head was hurting. It was only you and him now, sitting on the couch, in front of the television. The past few moments were pure torture for him. Every skin-on-skin contact with you made him go crazy, and every time you walked past him, he could just inhale your scent.

He has one of the couch pillows set over his thighs, a weak attempt to cover up the hard-on he earned just by looking at you. Your eyes were glued to the screen, a knowing smile displaying itself on your lips.

20 minutes pass, and so far, he wouldn’t budge off the couch or even get a new bottle of beer. “Would you like a new one?” You turn your head towards his direction. He hums, nodding, “Mhm, sure.” You walk over to the table, grabbing a new bottle of beer before walking back to him. You bend over a bit, handing it out to him.

His eyes lock in on your chest, the soft flesh of your boob peeking out through your low-cut top. And for a moment, he stays like that, mind completely distracted by the view in front of him. “Joel?” You ask innocently, beer bottle still in hand. He clears his throat, nodding his head before taking it out of your hand.

He quickly takes a sip, trying to focus on what shows the television is playing. You smile to yourself, taking a seat beside him. You have a finger over your mouth– you feel the tension, and you scooch closer to him. “What’re ‘ya doin’, kid?” He asks, his voice low, eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s cold.” You shrug.

He turns his back on you, his body facing the other way. Your eyes graze down on his back, admiring the way his muscles bulge through his shirt. Then, you catch a glimpse of your thong in his back pocket.

That was it.

“You know, it’s weird..” You start, looking at him. He looks over at you with his eyebrows raised, “Hm? What is?” You hook your finger on it, pulling it towards you in one swift motion. You dangle it in front of him, a smug look on your face.

“Never took you for a pervert, Miller.”

He looks at you, eyes wide with shock as his grip on the pillow tightens. “M’kay- fuck, I can explain–” He starts, standing up and letting the pillow fall to the ground. Your eyes lock with his boner, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the direction of his boner.

His eyes look down for a second, assessing himself. He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Been sneaking around and stealing my things when you could’ve just asked nicely.” You tut, standing up on your feet. “I know you want to fuck me, Joel.” You take a step closer to him. He looks at you, unsaid thoughts crossing over his eyes. He sighs before shaking his head.

“Not here.” Is all he says before picking you up and placing you over his shoulder. You giggle quietly, feet dangling in the air as he makes his way to your room. He fumbles with the door knob before clicking it open and setting you down on the bed. He locks the door behind him, turning around to face you properly.

You’re on your knees, fingers hiking up and glazing over your thighs. He eyes your movements, shaking his head. He walks closer to you until all you can see in front of you is just his tall frame. He grabs your chin, forcibly tilting your head to make you look at him. You don’t utter a word, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face.

“Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to control myself around you, angel.” He rubs his thumb by your bottom lip. You poke your tongue out, eventually taking his thumb in your mouth. “Just so happens you don’t have enough clothes to cover yourself with when ‘m around, is that it?” He looks at you with a dark gaze, his other hand reaching to unbuckle his belt. You nod, the sides of your lips curling into a smile.

He takes his thumb out, tossing his belt to the side. He sits down on the edge of the bed before unbuttoning his pants.

“Bend.”

His voice drops an octave lower, his hand gesturing to his lap. You’re dumbfounded, lips parted with shock. “What are ‘ya, deaf?” He glares at you. You shake your head and do as you’re told, bending over his lap. He yanks your cotton shorts down, the cold air hitting your bare ass. “No panties?” He asks, his hand groping and getting a feel of your ass. You shake your head, squirming under his touch.

You flinched as the sharp sound echoed throughout your room, a sting following– hot and immediate.

“Words, baby. Let me hear ‘ya.” His gruff voice cooed from above you, his hand soothing over your flesh. “Deliberately wearin’ nothin’, hm? Is this for me, angel?” His fingers rub against your pooling hole. “Y-Yes.” You shook out the word, your hands pressing against his thighs.

Another slap. “Yes what?” Oh, he sounds pissed.

“Yes d-daddy-!” You whimper, your knees pressing together. He leans down on you until his lips are just by your ear, “Now you’re gonna have t’be quiet if you want me to fuck ‘ya properly, understood?” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You nod your head, a tear slipping out of your eye. “Aw, poor baby.” His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping your tear away, “Does it hurt?” He hums. “N-No daddy, promise!” You say earnestly, trying your best to be good for him.

“Count for me, sweet girl.” He orders, his tone leaving no room for protest.

His hand landed on the flesh of your ass, sharp and unyielding.

“O-One.” Your voice trembled under the contact.

“Wearin’ nothin’ but short skirts and cropped tops, tryin’ to kill me.”

The next landed with no hesitation, your cheeks retracting at the contact.

“Two!” You bite your lip, muffling your whimpers.

“Intentionally wearin’ nothin’ underneath those pretty white bottoms.”

The next was harder than the last, more painful– the impact of it spreading heat through your skin.

“Three..!” By now you were crying, your pretty pink cheeks glistening with tears. He pulls your body against his, letting you lean against him. His hands were brushing against your ass, a tender touch– a contrast to his earlier actions. “Did so good for me, angel.” He kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist, “Makin’ me so proud.”

You straddle on his lap, taking one of his legs between your thighs. You start moving, eager for the friction. “What’s this? Pretty baby beggin’ to get fucked?” He coos against your ear, the palm of his hand on the back of your head. “Y-Yes please, please.. been so g-good for you..” You whine, moving your hips faster. His hands travel back to your waist, holding you in place before flipping you over and letting you lay on your back.

He pulls away, tugging his pants along with his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and girthy, twitching and begging to get buried inside of you. Your legs unconsciously spread open, your pussy all on display for him. He smiles at you, leaning over you before kissing your forehead.

“Keep quiet. Think you can do that f’me, baby?” He whispers, his hands on the back of your knees. You nod, your pussy pulsing against the tip of his cock. He leans down, pressing your thighs to your chest as he pushes his cock deep into you. Your knees touch your shoulders, and your hands find their way to his.

Your pussy is stuffed, and you lightly tap him as a signal for him to give you a few seconds to adjust to his size. “Little girl taking me in so well.” He breathes, his hips staying in place. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to make a sound.

Just when you thought he was all in, his hips pressed further against you, driving the extra inches of his cock inside you. “D-Daddy..” You hiccup, tears flowing from your eyes as your legs tremble in pleasure. “I know baby, I know.” He kisses the tips of your eyes, nodding, “Don’t worry. I’ll stretch you out real good, angel.” He whispers by the side of your ear. “Have you beggin’ for more in no time, you want that, yeah?” He lets out a low moan, burying his cock deeper. You try to relax your body, nodding at his words.

His grip on your legs tightens, his hips rocking into you. A moan slips out of your mouth, and he’s quick to cover it with his hand. You look up at him, beads of sweat forming around his forehead, some of his hair sticking on his skin. He looks down at you, his eyes gazing at your chest– your hardened nipples moving against the fabric of your top. He removes his hands from the back of your knees, relocating them to grope on your tits.

He grabs the fabric, tearing it into two impatiently. You gasp at the contact, his hips snapping rapidly as he grunts by your ear. Your tits bounce, and this only fuels him further, “You’re so beautiful, angel,” He praises, peppering kisses on your hands, “Always so good for me.” Your legs hook around his waist, his other hand making its way to your neck. He puts pressure on your airflow, your hands wrapping around his arm.

The obscene sound of your squelching pussy and his invading cock fills the room, and you start to feel light-headed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching against his towering body. You clench around his cock, your legs pulling him closer to you. “Need me buried deep in your pussy, yeah, angel?” He smirks, his other hand teasing your nipples. Your pussy pulses with his words, your head nodding frantically. “M-Mhm- mmfh..”

“You needed this so badly, huh?” He asks, his fingers glazing over your clit. You buck your hips up, desperate for his touch. “So pretty for me.” He rubs your clit with a soft and teasing touch. “M-More.. pleasepleaseplease– hngh–” You gasp, “So close, daddy!” He nods, adding more pressure to your clit.

He looked so perfect right between your thighs, his large frame towering over yours, his hands exploring your body. His hips staggered, “This pussy is mine, understand me?” He lets go of your neck, hands pushing the back of your thighs to your chest. You nod, biting your lip while tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “D-Da- haaah– yours, all y-yours..!” He speeds up the pace, his fingers working their way on your clit.

Your hands fall to your sides, your mind solely focusing on your release. “Just needed t’be fucked stupid.” He whispers, pulling his cock out before slamming it back in. Your back arches, and you’re met with your release. His hands land on your hips, pulling you towards him as he thrusts his cock into you one last time.

He holds you still, his hands kneading on your hips as he leans over you. You feel his cum seep into you, steady ropes of it shooting inside you. He keeps still, making sure that you got every last drop. You feel breathless, your hands finding their way to his chest.

He brings one of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your fingertips. “So good for me, sweetheart.” He pulls out, collapsing by your side. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He scans your face, his hand cupping your face. He rubs his thumb over your cheek, leaning closer to kiss it. He was so tender, so sweet with you– like you were the most precious thing to him. His hand rests over the back of your head, cradling you to his chest. You sigh contently, your eyes fluttering as your breathing steadies itself.

He kisses the top of your head, muttering sweet nothings and praises as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

Every girl gets her wish.

white lace divider by @chilumitos , cupid divider by @ioveartfilm ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: my second work! tried to do something new DOMJOELAHA, please feel free to correct me about any mistakes i made! i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! reblogs, comments, likes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joelsdagger @joelmillerpascal @joelmillerihardlyknowher @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk @lover-of-books-and-tea @joyceyayo @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @anenay @ashleyfilm @inept-the-magnificent @skullieispunk @iknowisoundcrazyreads @callsignmedusa @pixelspunk @puduvallee

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millermouth · 7 months ago

Text

Joel Miller x Reader

Joel’s jealousy surfaces when he sees you getting invited to one of Robert's men's apartments in the QZ, and it pushes him to confront you and finally admit his feelings.

warnings: smut 18+ only, jealous/rough/possessive Joel. power play, orgasm denial, teasing, dirty talk

word count: ~5k

a/n: my first ever Joel fic :')

The heavy thrum of boots on cracked asphalt echoes as you weave through the busy streets of the Boston QZ, a bag slung over your shoulder. In your hand, a crumpled scrap of paper flutters slightly with your stride, the name and room number scrawled on it already smudged from your grip. You shouldn’t have taken it—every instinct screamed not to—but the man from Area 5 had made refusal impossible.

He’d raked his eyes over you like you were nothing more than a transaction, his smirk thick with implication. Still, you took the note, biting your tongue and clenching your fists to avoid giving Robert’s protection thugs another excuse to single you out.

The noise of the main street fades as you turn into quieter, more desolate alleys, the distant hum of generators and FEDRA radios filling the silence. The bag on your shoulder feels heavier now, the encounter lingering like grime under your skin.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot a figure in the shadows.

Joel Miller.

He’s leaning against a crumbling wall near the alley entrance, arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders cutting an imposing silhouette in the fading afternoon sun. His face is a mask of indifference, but his sharp eyes catch the smallest details, their weight pinning you in place.

Even in the gloom, you can feel the tension radiating from him like heat. That scowl—the one that promises nothing good—is set firmly in place, never smoothing from the lines of his face.

You almost roll your eyes at the look. Almost.

"Thought you’d be halfway to the docks by now," you say casually, brushing past him.

“Was,” Joel mutters, pushing off the wall. “Then I saw you chattin’ up that asshole.”

You freeze mid-step, your back to him, before turning around slowly. His eyes are dark, sharp like glass. There’s an edge to his tone you haven’t heard in a while.

“It was just a trade. And so what if I was?” you challenge, keeping your voice light, but there’s a flicker of tension you can’t quite hide.

Joel steps closer, his boots crunching the broken concrete. “So you’re workin’ deals with scum like him now?”

“You mean scum like us?” you fire back, crossing your arms. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission, Joel.”

His jaw tightens, the muscle twitching as he stares at you. “It ain’t about permission,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “You think he’s got your back? He’d sell you out for a can of peaches.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “And what? You’re here to protect me, is that it? Because last I checked, you’re not exactly the hero type.”

Joel’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for something—or maybe someone. “You think I don’t see it?” he snaps, his voice rising just enough to cut through the humid air. “Robert's usin' you, girl. Throwin' ya to the wolves and you just let them look at you like--”

Your eyes narrow, a hot flush creeping up your neck. “Look at me like what, Joel? Are you serious right now?”

“You’re damn right I am,” Joel growls, stepping closer until the space between you is as tight as the tension coiling in your chest, "You shouldn't be workin' with them. Ain't safe."

“Why do you care?” you ask, your voice quieter now as you search his face, the words slipping out before you can stop them. His broad shoulders envelop you, making you feel small and vulnerable in their shadow.

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Instead, he exhales sharply, like he’s trying to wrestle the truth back down before it escapes. His hand raises briefly, like he might touch you, but it drops just as quickly.

“Forget it,” he mutters, stepping back. “Do what you want.”

Your stomach twists as he turns away, the tension in your chest snapping before you realize what you’re doing. You grab his arm, your fingers curling around the worn fabric of his jacket.

“Joel, wait,” you say, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

He stops, stiff and unyielding, his head tilting slightly like he’s debating whether to face you. Slowly, he turns, his eyes locking on yours, dark and stormy, a barely restrained conflict simmering just beneath the surface.

“What?” he growls softly, his voice low and rough.

The words hang in the humid air between you, heavy and unspoken for too long. You should say something—anything—but your throat tightens, betraying you.

Joel steps forward, the space between you dwindling. His chest rises and falls, his breathing uneven, his eyes flickering to your lips. They part slightly, and when he moves in an inch, you suck in a breath, surprised but also...longing.

He’s so close now that the heat of him is impossible to ignore, his scent—sweat and leather and pine—filling your lungs. His gaze flickers to yours again, and for a heartbeat, you’re certain he’s going to close the gap. You can see the individual sprigs of hair that make up his beard now, which ones are gray and which have kept their darkness despite his age. The curve of his lips beneath the beard is intoxicating, a quiet lure that you can’t tear your eyes from. It takes everything in you not to give in, not to lean forward and close the aching space between you.

For a split second, you think he might be just as close to losing that battle. His breathing hitches, his fingers twitch at his side as though they ache to reach for you. But then his jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a hard line as he steps back, the tension snapping like a taut wire cut loose.

“Forget it,” he mutters, his voice low and jagged, before turning and walking away, leaving you there standing alone.

The crumpled note taunts you from where it’s sat for days on your kitchen table, the edges smoothed from you picking it up, staring at it, then tossing it back down. It’s ridiculous. You barely even want the man who gave it to you—certainly not with the way he’d looked at you like a piece of meat. But the thought lingers, an itch you can’t scratch. It’s been days.

Days since Joel. Since that moment in the alleyway when he’d almost—almost—crossed that invisible line, only to walk away and leave you in pieces. Him avoiding you, pretending you didn’t exist, and making himself scarce in any space you held. It was starting to leave an ache in you that you didn't realize you'd had for him.

You had never thought about Joel like that—

—now there was a damn lie.

You’d be kidding yourself if Joel’s broad, bulky figure didn’t creep into your thoughts late at night when you were all alone. But never had those thoughts been so intense as the past few nights, replaying what might’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped, if he’d kissed you against the brick wall of that alley.

But you couldn’t have Joel Miller. You wouldn’t allow it. Not the skulking asshole who was always sending jabs your way during jobs, overbearing and overprotective, acting like you couldn’t handle yourself. He had this infuriating way of thinking you needed saving, that he always had to be there, hovering just close enough to drive you insane.

Still, the note sits there, and something about its presence feels heavier than it should. You grab it, shoving it into your pocket with a frustrated sigh. It’s not like Joel has a claim on you. Hell, it’s not like you owe him anything after the way he walked away without looking back.

You won’t think about Joel. Not tonight.

But as you step into the dimly lit hallway and make your way toward the other man’s apartment, the little voice in the back of your mind pleads for you to knock on Joel's door instead.

The hallways of the old apartment block are dark, the overhead lights flickering in a familiar, uneven rhythm. Your steps echo faintly against the cracked tiles as you make your way toward the room number scribbled on the paper. Each step feels heavier than the last, and a gnawing doubt twists in your gut.

You pass by doors, most of them silent, others humming with muffled conversations or static from a radio. You’re so focused on pushing the brooding asshole from your mind that you don’t notice the door swinging open as you pass—not until his voice stops you cold.

“You really thinkin’ about goin’ to see that scumbag?”

You freeze, your pulse spiking as you turn to see Joel’s figure fill the doorway just a few steps behind you. His eyes bore into you, dark and smoldering with something between anger and disbelief. His large arms are braced against the doorframe, his shoulders cutting an imposing figure even in the dim light.

“Excuse me?” you say, your voice sharper than you intend, but it’s all you can manage to cover the flush creeping up your neck.

Joel steps forward, his expression hard, his gaze flicking down to the slight bulge in your pocket where the note sits. “Don’t play dumb,” he growls. “I know he lives on this floor. You goin' to see 'em?”

You bristle, your defenses slamming into place. “What does it matter to you?”

Joel takes a step closer, and even in the dim light, the tension in his jaw is unmistakable. “It matters,” he growls, his voice low and uneven, “because I know exactly what kinda bastard he is. And you don’t.”

You scoff, crossing your arms defensively. “What, you think I can’t handle myself?”

His lips twitch, just enough to make your blood boil. “Nah,” he says, the drawl in his voice sharper than usual, his words cutting. “I know you can’t, darlin’. Not with someone like him.”

The sweetness of that word—darlin’—wrapped in condescension is like a match to gasoline. Your blood ignites, the heat rushing up your neck as you step closer, closing the gap until you’re nearly chest to chest.

Your jaw tightens, your fists clenching at your sides as heat floods your cheeks. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you snap, taking a step closer, your eyes locking onto his with a fire that matches his own, “You don’t get to stand there acting like you know what’s best for me.”

Joel doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, though the flicker of something darker passes through his eyes. “I know more than you think,” he says quietly, his voice low and measured.

“Oh, really?” you shoot back, leaning in, your finger jabbing at his chest. “Then enlighten me, Joel. Tell me why it’s your problem if I decide to go to someone else. Because last I checked, you’ve been avoiding me for days."

His jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a hard line. “That's what you think this is? That I don't wanna be near you?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, rougher.

You scoff, leaning in closer, your voice dripping with challenge. “Damn straight. I think you’re scared.”

That does it. Joel lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head slightly. Then he leans in, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes locked on yours. “I ain’t scared of you, sugar,” he growls, his voice low, smooth, and cutting.

The nickname sends a jolt through you, not sweet like it should be but sharp, taunting. His words, the way his gaze lingers on you like he’s daring you to say something else, make your blood boil.

Before you can answer, he moves. His hand curls around your throat, tugging you forward until you’re almost flush against him. The heat of his skin is like an iron vice, firm but not cruel, and yet the sensation of it sends a shiver through you. Your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest as your hands fly up to steady themselves on him.

“You wanna know why I stayed away?” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, his voice rough.

Your heart nearly gallops in your chest as his hand releases your neck just to move up, cupping your face with a contrasting tenderness, his thumb brushing your face.

“I stayed away,” he continues, his lips nearly brushing the skin of your cheekbone, “’cause if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself."

The words wrap around you, pulling you under, and for a moment, the world narrows to just him—the rasp of his voice, the heat of his breath, the intensity in his eyes. Your hands instinctively grip the front of his shirt, grounding yourself in the feel of him.

“Then don’t stop," you whisper, the words trembling out of you like they’ve been waiting to escape.

Joel’s resolve snaps like a thread pulled too tight. His hand falls from your face to grab your wrist, pulling you into his apartment, the door slamming behind you with enough force to make the old hinges shake. The sound reverberates through the quiet space, but you barely register it before he pushes you up against the door.

His hands are at your waist first, gripping you tightly, his body crowding you like he’s trying to absorb every inch of space you hold. His lips crash against yours, rough and unrelenting, his kiss so consuming it leaves you breathless. There’s nothing gentle about it—there's a hunger, as though he’s been holding this back for far too long.

One of his hands moves upward, sliding into your hair. His fingers tangle at the nape of your neck, tightening into a firm fist. The pull sends your head back, exposing the line of your throat, and your lips part instinctively, a sharp whimper escaping before you can stop it.

The sound seems to spur him on. His lips break away from yours, trailing down to your jaw and lower still, finding the sensitive skin of your neck. His beard scrapes roughly against you, and the sharp contrast of his teeth grazing your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

“Joel—” Your voice falters as his lips press against your throat, his teeth scraping lightly before he nips at the soft flesh.

“Mmm," he hums, his voice muffled against your neck, "My name sounds so good on your pretty lips, baby." His hand on your waist grips you firmly, holding you in place as his lips and teeth move against you.

“You think I’d let some bastard like him have you?” he growls against your neck, his voice thick with frustration. “That anyone but me could have you?"

All you know how to do is whimper as you're clawing at his shoulders as he holds you brutally in place, your neck exposed to him as he bites down hard on the flesh of your shoulder, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, the coarse fabric of his shirt doing little to protect him from your frantic grip. He groans low in his throat at the sensation, the sound vibrating against your skin and making your knees weak.

“Shh, shh,” he coos, his voice softer now, pulling himself away just enough to look at you. His gaze drifts down to your flushed skin, the way your chest heaves with each labored breath, your pupils blown wide, and your lips parted.

His thumb brushes your jaw as he leans in, pecking your lips with a tenderness that feels like a stark contrast to the fire from moments ago. It’s soft, slow, making you mewl against his touch.

“I know, baby girl,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. His voice is so gentle now, so caressing and tender, it almost gives you whiplash it's so contrasting to the possessiveness of him, “Don’t ever make me watch you walk toward someone else again, you hear me?”

His hand loosens in your hair, the sharp tug easing into a comforting caress at the nape of your neck. You nod, swallowing hard as you try to catch your breath, your heart still pounding against your ribs.

Without hardly a warning, Joel’s lips crash back into yours, swallowing any words you might have spoken. His hand moves to your hip, gripping tightly as his body presses against yours, keeping you firmly against the door. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair cups gently at your jaw, tilting your head to allow him just the right angle for his tongue to slide into your wanting mouth.

Your hands slide beneath his shirt, exploring the warm, solid planes of his back, your nails scraping lightly against his skin. The sharp groan he lets out vibrates against your lips, his kiss growing rougher, more desperate.

His hands move with purpose now, one sliding under your shirt, the roughness of his calloused palm scorching a path up your side. The fabric bunches as he pushes it higher, his fingers grazing the edge of your ribs. His mouth leaves yours only to drag along your jaw and down your neck again, his teeth scraping just enough to make you gasp.

“Joel,” you whisper, the sound a mix of need and surrender, your head tilting back as his lips find your collarbone.

His hands tug at your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion before his mouth is back on yours. His kisses are ravenous as though he’s been starving for this. You tug at his shirt in return, your fingers fumbling slightly in your haste before he pulls away just long enough to yank it off himself, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing with the motion.

His groan rumbles against your lips as his hands roam your body, his calloused palms grazing your bare skin. He cups your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing until they pebble under his touch.

Eventually he lowers himself just enough to take a nipple into his mouth, his tongue swiping in slow, deliberate circles, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The sensation has your fingers gripping his shoulders, keeping him close as he lavishes your skin with attention. He hums against you, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same torturous care.

When he rolls your nipple between his teeth and sucks hard, your back arches off the door, a desperate moan escaping your throat. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at the soft strands, spurring him on.

When his fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, he tugs them down in one smooth motion, the fabric pooling at your ankles. His gaze lifts to yours, and the way those dark, molten eyes bore into you makes your knees nearly give out.

He sinks to his knees with a quiet grunt, a faint crack from his joints drawing a flicker of a smile to your lips. But Joel doesn’t even flinch. His focus remains entirely on you, his large hands gripping your hips as he looks up at you, the sight alone enough to leave you breathless.

Joel Miller, on his knees.

For you.

His lips press to your hips, then the tops of your thighs, his beard scraping deliciously against your skin. He moves slowly, purposefully, savoring every inch of you as if he has all the time in the world. When he finally plants a kiss on your clothed mound, starting at the pubic bone and moving lower, your breath catches.

“Joel—” you plead again, like it’s the only word you know. Your brain feels like mush as he pulls your leg over his shoulder, his nose pressing against your panty-clad center, inhaling deeply.

“Knew you’d be so good for me,” he whispers, the shape of his lips forming the words against the fabric. His tongue darts out, teasing through the thin barrier, and the sensation makes your thighs tremble. “Knew you’d taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby girl.”

He flattens his tongue against your panties, dragging it in a slow, deliberate motion that leaves your jaw slack as you watch him. His mouth teases and tastes you, giving you just enough to light every nerve on fire but never enough to satisfy. Goosebumps race across your skin, and your head tilts back against the door as your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan spilling from your lips.

“Can taste this soaked pussy already, honey,” he moans, his voice low and rough, vibrating against you. His hand tightens on your hip, holding you steady as he presses a kiss to your most sensitive spot, still teasingly covered by the damp fabric. “Who’s all this for?”

Your brain struggles to keep up, the molten heat building in your core making it almost impossible to think. But then, that little devil on your shoulder gets the better of you, and before you can stop yourself, you murmur, “The guy down the hall,"

Joel stops.

The room goes silent, the teasing ministrations of his mouth halting as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. His eyes meet yours, dark and unreadable, and in that moment, you’re reminded of exactly who Joel Miller is.

Not just the man whose hands have been roaming your body, whose lips left you breathless—no, the killer. The smuggler. The man who has stared death in the face and walked away without flinching. The man who has done unspeakable things without hesitation, without mercy.

That edge, that dangerous part of him, flashes behind his eyes now, sharp and unforgiving. It makes your stomach twist, your heart pounding in the sudden stillness.

Joel doesn’t move, doesn’t speak at first, just stares at you like he’s deciding what to do with you. His jaw ticks, his expression hardening, and slowly, his grip on your thigh tightens just enough to make you hiss, to remind you of the strength he holds--the sheer power in his hands.

“You wanna say that again?” he mutters, his voice low and laced with quiet menace, and for a fleeting second, you’re not sure if he’s going to kiss you or destroy you.

Within a second, Joel drops your thigh and stands abruptly, towering over you once again. Before your heart can catch up, he’s pulling you across the room with ease, guiding your body toward the bed. He pushes you forward, and you land on all fours, your hands catching your fall against the soft blankets.

You barely have time to process the shift before he’s already behind you. The clang of his belt buckle hitting the floor sends a shiver through you, your body hyperaware of every sound, every movement.

“You’re gonna regret sayin’ that, honey,” he drawls, his voice low and dangerous as his fingers snag the waistband of your panties, dragging them down with a deliberate slowness. The cool air brushes against your bare skin, and you feel the rough calluses of his fingertips as they trail over you.

Joel hisses as his fingers slide along your bare wetness, spreading you open just enough to tease. Your breath catches when he strokes himself against you, his cock hot and heavy as it presses against your entrance. The head of him is enough to make you freeze, your body tensing at the sheer size of him.

“Shhh,” he soothes, his hand trailing down your spine, the pads of his fingers brushing lightly as they go. “S’alright, baby. You can take it. Just after throwin’ that shit in my face, I can’t let ya have it easy, can I?”

You shake your head quickly, your breath coming in short gasps. “No, sir,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft but laced with control. His hands grip your hips, guiding you as he nudges your legs further apart with his knees. “Get down for me.”

You lower yourself onto the bedspread so your cheek is brushing the blanket, your arms splayed out beside you. Your body instinctively obeys his command, your back arching as you raise your hips higher for him. Joel moves one foot onto the bed, bracing himself as he leans over you, the sheer weight of him pressing down, making you feel completely at his mercy.

Joel shifts behind you, his hand splayed over your lower back as he holds you in place. The weight of his palm is grounding, steady, a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air around you. You feel the heat of him pressing against you, his cock dragging along your slick folds, teasing, deliberate.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. “All laid out for me like this.” His other hand grips your hip firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he lines himself up. “This is where you belong, baby. Right here. Under me.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and before you can respond, he pushes forward. The stretch is immediate, sharp and nearly unbearable, his cock filling you inch by inch as he moves slowly, giving you time to adjust.

“Shit,” Joel hisses, his grip on your hip tightening as he sinks deeper. “So tight for me, baby girl. You feel that? Feel how good you’re takin’ me?”

You whimper, your fingers clutching the blankets as your body arches back instinctively, chasing the sensation. Joel growls low in his throat at the motion, his hand sliding up to grab a fistful of your hair, gently pulling your head back as he leans down over you.

“Patience,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the curve of your ear. “We’re doin’ this my way.”

He pulls back again, just enough to make you whine at the loss before pressing forward again, deeper this time. Each thrust is slow, measured, driving you to the edge but never letting you tumble over. His control is maddening, the steady rhythm of his movements keeping you suspended in a haze of pleasure and frustration.

Your body arches instinctively, the pressure building in your core, but Joel doesn’t let you move an inch beyond what he allows, his hands still holding you firmly in place.

“Your pussy’s squeezin’ me like a damn vice, baby,” he hisses, his voice gravelly and thick with heat. His hands roam over your hips, rough palms smoothing over the curve of your waist as he grinds into you. “You gonna cum soon, aren’t you, darlin’?”

Your breath catches at his dirty words, the pressure low in your belly coiling tighter with every calculated roll of his hips. “Yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes, yes, yes…”

Joel chuckles darkly, his pace slowing even further, drawing out your desperation. His hands still on your hips, holding you firmly in place as you writhe beneath him. “Aw,” he tuts, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “That’s too bad, ain’t it?”

Your eyes fly open as he leans down, his chest pressing against your back. His lips brush your ear, his voice low and taunting. “Good girls get to cum,” he murmurs, each word slow and deliberate, his breath hot against your skin. “But you and that smart mouth? You don’t get nothin’ until I say so.”

Joel straightens back up, his grip on your hips like iron as he slams into you without warning, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs. The slow, taunting rhythm from before is gone, replaced by something primal, raw. Each thrust is rough, unrelenting, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room as he drives into you with relentless precision.

Your fingers clutch at the blankets beneath you, your body rocking forward with the intensity of his movements. The coil in your belly tightens with every harsh thrust, your legs trembling as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

Broken moans continue to escape your lips, your body arching instinctively as you try to meet his pace, but his hands on your hips keep you firmly in place, leaving you no control.

“Not so smart now, huh?” he mutters, his tone laced with dark satisfaction as he drives into you harder. “Thought you could tease me, baby? Play your little games?”

The pressure inside you is unbearable now, your body trembling, desperate for release, but Joel isn’t letting you have it. He keeps you teetering on the brink, holding you there with a mastery that has you whimpering, your head dropping forward as you gasp for air.

“Please,” you finally cry, your voice breaking as the words spill from your lips. “Joel, please!”

He leans down again, one hand sliding up your spine to grip the back of your neck, his breath hot against your ear. “Not yet,” he growls, his voice thick with control. “You don’t get to cum until I hear you say it.”

You sob softly, your body trembling with the effort of holding back as he fucks you harder, his movements leaving you raw and desperate.

“Say it,” he demands, his hand tightening on your neck, his thrusts unrelenting. “Say you belong to me.”

Your breath hitches, your mind too hazy to resist anymore. “I belong to you,” you gasp, your voice trembling, barely more than a whisper.

“Louder,” he growls, his hips slamming into you, pushing you even closer to the edge.

“I belong to you!” you cry, your voice breaking with the force of your desperation, "I'm yours Joel, all yours. It's all for you,"

“Good girl,” he moans, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Now show me, baby. Show me how good you are for me.”

With one hand still gripping your hip, Joel’s other slides down to where your bodies meet, his rough fingers finding your swollen clit. The sharp jolt of pleasure has you crying out, your body bucking against him as he circles it with maddening precision.

The combination of his thrusts and his fingers is overwhelming, the pressure inside you finally snapping as you’re thrown over the edge. Your body tenses, your thighs shaking as your release crashes through you in waves, pulling a loud, broken moan from your lips.

Joel groans low in his throat, his pace faltering slightly as he watches you come undone around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing him tight. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice strained, “That's my good girl, give me everything,"

He stays leaning down over you now, driving into you, chasing his own high. His arms hold you against his body tightly, his breath is ragged, his movements erratic as he holds you firmly against him.

With a deep, guttural groan, Joel presses deep, his cock twitching as his release spills into you, hot and overwhelming. His hips stutter as he rides it out, his hands keeping you pinned against him, his body shuddering with the force of it.

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the both of you trembling and spent. Joel leans forward, his lips brushing against the back of your neck as his hands soften their grip, caressing your skin now instead of digging into it.

After one last exhale, Joel shifts, the tension leaving his body as he falls onto the bed bedside you, laying onto his back and pulling you into him. His arms wrap around you, warm and secure, holding you against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is warm, grounding you as you relax into him.

His hand moves slowly, gently tracing soft circles along your back, his rough fingers soothing against your skin. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, your breath warm as it fans over his collarbone.

“You alright, baby?” he asks again, his voice softer now, laced with concern and tenderness.

You hum, your hand coming up to his face, tracing your fingers along the rough planes of his jaw. “Better than alright,” you whisper, your voice hoarse but content.

His lips twitch into a faint smile, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Sorry if I was--”

“You weren’t,” you cut him off softly, your fingers brushing along the valleys of his arm, “It was perfect.”

Joel’s arms tighten around you slightly, his thumb stroking idly along the curve of your shoulder. For a moment, you don’t say anything, content to listen to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, to feel the warmth of his body enveloping yours. His chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and calming, and you let your eyes drift closed.

Joel shifts slightly, adjusting the blanket over the both of you before settling back down, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head. His hands never stop moving, slow and steady, as if to remind you he’s there, that he’s not going anywhere.

“Get some rest,” Joel murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple in a soft, lingering kiss. “I’ve got you.”

And with that, you sink into him, his warmth and quiet affection wrapping around you like a balm, the world outside fading into nothing.

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