#of course joel went up to him of all people

[yslgreen]

Need Every Inch.

PAIRING : No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

SUMMARY : Joel needs a last-minute suit for Tommy’s wedding. You happen to be a tailor, one Joel didn’t expect to be so attracted to. Maybe those definitely-not-professional jokes you make mean you're not indifferent either?

WARNINGS : 18+ SMUT MDNI, no outbreak AU, no ellie, no y/n, slight age gap, oral m! recieving, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up people!), creampie, praise, pet names, so many innuendos, teasing, sexual tension, slightly insecure! Joel, fluff, slight inappropriate behaviour from reader but let’s close our eyes pls.

A/N: I wanted to write something from Joel’s POV this time, so this started as a quick oneshot & of course it ended up being much longer than I intended. Sorry not sorry about that! And because men in suits get me all hot and bothered here we are.... Full disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about tailoring beyond what Google has taught me for this fic, so apologies in advance for anything inaccurate!

Here on AO3 | 18 k (I dont know what came over me)

Joel definitely needed a new suit.

He knew it before he even looked in the mirror. Felt it the second he pulled the damn thing on. The jacket was too short for his arms. The shoulders hugged too tight. The fabric strained across his chest like it was begging for mercy. And the buttons? He couldn’t get a single one to close.

A puff of laughter came from behind him.

“When’s the last time you wore that thing?” Tommy asked, smirking from where he sat perched on the edge of Joel’s bed, watching his brother with far too much interest.

“Years ago,” Joel muttered with annoyance, tossing the jacket somewhere in his room.

The answer was vague, but he knew exactly when it was. Almost two decades ago, the day he and Sarah’s mother said yes in a courthouse. Too young and too rushed. The suit had been bought just days before, off the rack and not even altered. Even then, he hadn’t cared about the suit itself. It was just something he had to wear.

He never bought another one. Never needed to.

Joel lived in work pants, worn-in T-shirts and if you asked his daughter, way too many flannels. Suits were for men with office jobs or lives that required polishing. He didn’t have either. And they weren’t cheap, anyway. Raising a daughter on his own meant every extra dollar went to more important things: shoes she’d outgrow in a month, school supplies, dinners that didn’t come from a can.

Spending money on something as useless as a suit? Not a chance.

He’d kept this one tucked away in the back of the closet, thinking naively that it would still fit if he ever needed it. That time hadn’t changed him that much. But years of hard living, heavier lifting, and broader shoulders had reshaped him. And the suit hadn’t gotten the memo.

Tommy leaned back on his palms, eyebrows raised. “And you were plannin’ on wearin’ that to my wedding ?”

Joel shot him a look. “Didn’t figure it’d be this bad.”

“Joel… you couldn’t button it if your life depended on it.”

Joel grunted. “Didn’t ask for your commentary.”

Tommy just smirked. “Well, I can’t have my best man standin’ next to me at the altar lookin’ like that. Sure, it’d make me stand out more, but still.”

“I’ll find somethin’,” Joel said simply.

“I’m gettin’ married in two weeks,” Tommy said pointedly. “You should’ve figured out weeks ago that thing wasn’t gonna cut it.”

Joel didn’t have much of a defence. Truth was, Tommy was right. He’d had plenty of time, but between long hours at work, planning the bachelor party, helping out with wedding errands, and just… life, it had fallen to the bottom of the list. He wasn’t proud of it.

“You need a proper suit,” Tommy continued, standing now. He looked at Joel through the mirror, their reflections side by side. “Not somethin’ off the same rack you buy your flannels from. A real one. Somethin’ that fits. Tailored.”

“I got no need for that,” Joel muttered, already unbuttoning his shirt, eager to change into something comfortable.

“You do,” Tommy said, folding his arms. “For my wedding. For Sarah’s middle school graduation in a few years. Hell, for your own funeral if Maria sees you without a proper suit at our wedding.”

Joel barked a dry laugh despite himself. “That’s a threat?”

“It’s a guarantee,” Tommy said, grinning. “And Maria’ll back me up.”

Finally in something more comfortable, a soft cotton T-shirt and old jeans, Joel turned fully to his brother.

“And where the hell am I supposed to get a proper suit,” he echoed, dragging out the word with emphasis, “in two weeks?”

“Give me a sec,” Tommy said, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

Joel watched as his brother tapped out a quick text, thumbs flying. Probably to Maria. Who else? Tommy was hopeless over her — had been from the jump — and far as Joel could tell, he didn’t make a single decision without her blessing. Not that Joel minded. She was sharp, the kind of woman who always had a plan.

He glanced at his reflection again, at the man staring back in the quiet morning light.

A new suit ?

It wasn’t like ten years ago. Hell, it wasn’t even like five. Joel had built something since then. Built it from the ground up, with his own two hands. A good life. He and Tommy ran a solid contracting business. He had a two-story house with an actual yard. Sarah had everything she needed and more. 

And for once, he had a little room to think about himself, not just what was necessary. He could afford it. A real suit. Something that wasn’t just practical or durable or bought on clearance. Something that might actually make him feel… good. Confident. Hell, maybe even a little handsome. Not that Joel thought he was an ugly man, never had. He knew how he came across. Rugged, solid. That quiet, hard-working edge that some women seemed to like. He didn’t have the easy charm Tommy had, but he held his own.  But it had been a long time since he felt it for himself. Since he’d looked in a mirror and seen someone worth dressing up. Worth the effort. 

“Maria’s got a place,” Tommy said, cutting through Joel’s thoughts. “Tailor shop over near East 6th. She says if you tell them you’re comin’ on her word, they’ll squeeze you in. Deadline and all.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Joel gave him a look. “What else did Maria say?”

A grin spread across Tommy’s face. “That you better be the world’s most polite client. Or she’ll personally kick your ass.”

Joel huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

That’s how, later that day, with the sun dipping low behind the buildings, Joel found himself standing in front of a little shop he’d never noticed before. Not that he drove this stretch of road often, but still, he’d lived in Austin his whole damn life. He liked to think he knew the city pretty well.

Then again, there’d never been a reason to notice it before.

Frank & Co. Tailoring.

The lettering on the sign was neat, understated. Just enough to catch the eye if you were searching for it. The place was classy, but not showy. The wood-panelled front had a warm, worn-in charm, the kind that said the shop had been around a while, quietly doing good work. In the window, a few sharp-looking jackets stood on mannequins, their fabrics catching the last of the afternoon light. Below them, a neat rack of ties and bow ties added colour, from deep blues to muted reds and subtle patterns,  all carefully arranged to invite a second look.

Joel leaned closer, peering through the glass. His brow furrowed; the place looked empty. He wondered, for a beat, if he was too late. He’d meant to get there earlier, but work, as it often did, had dragged longer than planned. He hadn’t even changed out of his slightly dusty clothes. Not the worst shape he’d ever been in after a day on site, but still… it felt like he should’ve made more of an effort.

But the lights were still on, and the little sign hanging on the door clearly read Open . So after brushing some dust off his pants like that was gonna make any real difference, Joel stepped inside.

A bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, and a voice called from somewhere in the back. “I’ll be there in a sec!” 

He stood there a moment, hands at his sides, suddenly very aware of how out of place he felt. The shop was smaller than he expected, but not in a bad way. Just… personal, he’d say. Wood tones, soft lighting, rows of folded shirts and fabric samples displayed with care. A few mannequins stood off to the side, dressed in sharp, clean lines, everything neatly arranged:  charcoal suits, earth-toned linens, deep navy wools. All of it well-made and tasteful.

Joel moved toward the front counter, his eyes drifting as he walked. Off to the side, he spotted what had to be the fitting area: a tall mirror framed in dark wood, a low platform in front of it, a tape measure draped over a nearby stool like someone had just stepped away mid-task. Private enough that someone standing there wouldn’t be seen from the front window. Toward the back, through an open doorway, he could make out what had to be the workroom: bolts of fabric, half-finished pieces on hangers and the low buzz of a machine humming somewhere out of sight. 

Almost without thinking, his fingers brushed over the sleeve of a red velvet jacket. Bold. Not his style in the slightest, but even he could tell it was quality. The fabric was soft under his fingertips. It made him wonder for a second what kind of man wore something like that and didn’t feel like a damn fool doing it.

“Hi! Sorry for the wait. How can I help you?”

Joel turned toward the voice. And stopped. You weren’t what he expected.

Maybe it was the movies' fault, but when he thought of a tailor, he pictured an older man, probably bald, Italian for some reason, with a measuring tape around his neck and a heavy accent like the place doubled as a front for some mafia. He didn’t expect a woman, younger than him by maybe ten years, hair a little tousled, like you hadn’t planned on more clients tonight. An easy, professional smile. Warm eyes. 

Pretty . That was the word that struck him first, clear and fast.

He cleared his throat, voice rougher than he meant it to be. “I, uh... I need a suit.”

You gave him another smile and slid behind the counter, setting the folded fabric you’d been holding onto the back of a nearby chair. “Well, you’re in the right place, then. What’s the occasion?”

“A wedding,” 

“Oh, lovely.” You reached for the small notebook resting near the register and flipped it open, pen already in hand. “When’s the big day?”

“In two weeks.”

You froze mid-scribble. Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. “Two weeks?” you repeated, like maybe you hadn’t heard him right — or hoped you hadn’t.

He gave a small, sheepish shrug. “Yeah.”

You blinked once. The edge of a smile was tugging at his mouth. You were looking at him like he’d just told you he’d shown up for brain surgery with a pocketknife.

“Maria sent me,” he added, as if that might help.

That earned a very different reaction.

“Did she now?” you sighed, setting your notebook down a little harder than necessary. Joel noticed the way your brows pinched in what looked like familiar frustration. “Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath.

But Joel heard it, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.

You spun back around a second later, as if remembering he was still there. “Sorry. That wasn’t very professional.”

“S’all right. I know this isn’t exactly a normal request.”

You exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Making a full suit in two weeks is…”

“Impossible?”

You gave a tired, dry laugh. “Definitely difficult.”

There was a pause, and Joel figured this was the part where you told him no. And fair enough, he wouldn’t blame you. Two weeks was damn near impossible, and he’d left it too late. A suit off the rack would do. Not great, not impressive, but it would do. Tommy might roll his eyes, but I'll be too busy at his wedding to do anything about it. He didn't want to think about what Maria might say to him, or the way she might scold him like he was a child. Sarah… well, he could already imagine the look on her sweet face. Disappointed, but trying not to show it.

But then, instead of sending him away, you pulled out the chair next to you and sat down, nodding toward the other one across from you.

“Have a seat.”

Joel hesitated, just for a second, then did as told.

“Do you know what kind of suit you’re looking for?” you asked, reaching for your notebook again.

“What kind?” he echoed, brow furrowed.

“There’s classic, slim fit, modern fit, double-breasted, three-piece, tuxedo, unstructured—” you rattled them off quickly, like someone who didn’t have time to waste.

Joel held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa…slow down.”

You laughed, soft but amused, and Joel found himself leaning just slightly toward the sound.

“Sorry,” you said, not sounding sorry at all. “Tight deadline. If we’re doing this, I need to get started tonight.”

“Right. Sorry.”

You shook your head, more gently this time. “Don’t apologise. It’s my job. Just trying to get a read on what we’re working with.” You clicked your pen. “Have you ever had a tailored suit before?”

“Never,” he admitted, like it was something he maybe should’ve been embarrassed about.

But you just nodded, unfazed. “That’s totally fine. Do you at least know what you like?”

The look in his eyes told you everything. You didn’t wait for him to fumble for an answer.

“Take a look around,” you offered, gesturing to the space. “Is there anything here that stands out to you? Something close to what you're picturing for yourself?”

Joel turned his head, taking his time as his eyes moved across the room. He glanced at a few mannequins before his gaze landed on one near the back.

“That one,” he said, nodding toward it. “I guess.”

You followed his gaze and gave a thoughtful little hum. “Alright. Clean cut, traditional silhouette.” You tapped your pen lightly against the notebook. “Are we talking black? Or are we open to a little colour?”

“Black,” he said, and the amused lift of your eyebrow made him wonder if you’d already guessed that would be his answer.

“Can’t go wrong with that,” you murmured with a small nod as you flipped to a new page. “Any want for the fabric?”

Joel hesitated, searching for the right words. “I want somethin’ that lasts. Somethin’ I can wear again if I ever need to.”

You smiled softly, like that was the right answer. “Timeless, then.”

Turning to one of the nearby shelves, you pulled a few fabric samples from a wooden tray and laid them out in front of him. You explained each one — worsted wool, twill and more — pointing out the subtle differences. How some were softer, others more durable. How they caught light differently. How some aged beautifully, and others needed a little more care. Your fingers moved over each fabric with ease, and Joel found himself watching your hands more than the cloth.

He listened more intently than he expected to. Maybe it was the calm certainty in your voice, or the way you clearly knew what you were talking about without making him feel dumb for not knowing it himself. You spoke with the kind of quiet confidence that only came from being good at what you did, and caring about it.

It was… nice, he thought. Watching someone be good at something. Watching you.

After a few more questions, things about budget, lapel preferences, if he wanted anything embroidered (he didn’t), you moved on, your pen scratching notes across the page. You asked about accessories next.

“Do you need coordinated pieces? Tie, bow tie?”

“A bow tie,” Joel said, watching the way your lips twitched into the faintest smile.

You nodded. “Pocket square? Always a good way to add a little pop of color.”

He gave a noncommittal hum. “Maybe.”

“Perfect way to match with your wife’s dress, for example,” you added, smiling.

“No wife,” he said quickly. Maybe too quickly?

You looked up at that, and Joel noticed the brief flick of your eyes to his hand, confirming the absence of a ring. He felt his gaze drop to yours in return. Also no ring. But that didn’t mean anything. Maybe you didn’t wear one at work. Maybe you weren’t married. Maybe you were.

“No one to match with, then?” you asked, tone casual, but there was something in the way you said it. A thread of curiosity woven in, just enough for him to notice.

Was that just good customer service? Or something more? A subtle way of asking if he was spoken for? He couldn’t be sure.

Joel shifted slightly. “I’ll check with the groom. See if there’s a color I need to match. If not…” He hesitated, just for a moment. “Might match with my daughter instead.”

Your face softened. “That’s sweet,” you said, and meant it. “Well, no rush on that. You let me know when you find out.”

You glanced down at your notes, flipping back through the pages as if checking your list, making sure you had everything you needed.

“Well,” you said after a moment, “the good news is you’re not asking for anything too over-the-top.”

“I’m not exactly known for my bold fashion sense,” Joel replied dryly.

You shrugged lightly, not even looking up. “Good-looking men don’t need a loud suit to stand out anyway.”

It was offhand, almost dismissive, like it wasn’t meant to land as a compliment. But it did. Joel’s eyes widened a little, not expecting that. You were already back on your notes, like you hadn’t just called him good-looking, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe to you, it was. Still, the words settled in him. A flicker of something quiet and pleased. It wasn’t vanity exactly, but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing that you looked at him and saw a man worth noticing. That the interest wasn’t entirely one-sided.

You were focused again, pen gliding across the page as you started drafting the order summary: measurements, fabric, deadlines, deposit terms. But midway through, your hand paused. You looked up at him, eyes meeting his again. You had pretty eyes. 

“I forgot to ask your name,” you realised. 

“I’m Joel,” he replied, reaching out his hand automatically. “Joel Miller.”

There was a flicker in your expression at the name. Something small, but noticeable. Recognition, maybe? Or something else he couldn’t quite place. But before he could dwell on it, you were already offering your own name along with your hand. The handshake was brief and professional, but something about it lingered. The warmth of your skin, the subtle firmness of your grip. When you let go and his hand dropped back to his side, Joel felt his fingers twitch slightly. 

Once you were done, you slid the document across the counter, letting Joel skim through it. Everything looked in order. He picked up the pen, signed with a steady hand, and passed it back to you.

As you stood, he did the same, instinctively mirroring your movement. When you walked around the front desk, he assumed it was to politely see him out, and turned toward the door.

But he’d barely taken a few steps when your voice came from behind him.

“Where are you going?”

Joel paused, half-turning back. You weren’t following. You were standing near the fitting area, head tilted slightly like you were trying not to laugh.

He blinked. “I thought we were done for now?” he offered, glancing toward the shop window, where the sun had all but slipped beneath the horizon. “Didn’t mean to keep you. It’s almost night out.”

“Well, Miller,” you said, tone light but pointed as you crossed your arms, “if you want that suit ready for this wedding, I need to take those measurements tonight.”

“Measurements?”

You gave him another look, amused, a little exasperated, but still smiling. “Yes, measurements,” you said, drawing the word out like he was being deliberately slow. “I know I’m very good at what I do, but I haven’t quite figured out how to make a custom suit without them.”

Right. Yeah. That tracked. He hadn’t expected it to happen tonight, though. He figured you’d give him an appointment, send him on his way, and get to it sometime in the next few days.

“And… you’re the one taking them?” he asked, and he knew the moment the words left his mouth that you caught the flicker of surprise in his tone. It wasn’t about your skill. He had no doubt you were very capable. Hell, he just spent less than twenty minutes with you, and he already thought you were excellent. It was the realisation that you were going to be the one putting hands on him. He’d assumed there was someone else. Frank — that was the name on the shop window, wasn’t it? An older man in the back room with a measuring tape around his neck, doing this part of the job.

Not you.

You tilted your head, that same teasing glint in your eyes. “My uncle usually handles the men’s measurements,” you explained, like this wasn’t the first time you’d had to say it. Men either got awkward or a little too enthusiastic once they realised that this was also part of your job. “But he’s on vacation until next week. If you’re uncomfortable, I can reschedule you for when he’s back. But...” You didn’t need to finish that sentence.

Joel did it for you. “I’ve got a deadline.”

Your smile deepened. “Then I’m all you’ve got, Miller.”

There was a beat of silence. Joel cleared his throat, the sound a little rougher than it needed to be. “Okay then,” he said finally. “Guess I’m in your hands.”

“Lucky you.”

Joel walked back the few steps he’d taken. “Where do you want me?”

The corner of your mouth lifted just slightly, like you were holding back an answer. Instead, you tilted your head toward the raised platform near the large mirror, tucked in the corner of the shop. “Over there.”

He followed your gesture, noting how the soft, golden lighting of the room caught in your hair, making it glow. He tried not to notice, but he did.

“Take off your jacket for me, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,”

You let out a quiet hum as you turned away to retrieve your measuring tape. When you turned back, he was already standing tall on the platform, his jacket draped over a nearby chair.

Your gaze moved over him. It was quick. Professional. Measured. But not entirely detached.  The subtle tilt of your head, the way your eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary. Joel told himself not to read into it. He reminded himself this was just part of the process. That you weren’t really looking. Not like that.

Even if, for a second, it felt like maybe you were.

“Well,” you murmured, your eyes sweeping over him one last time, “you’re a lot broader than I expected.”

Joel blinked, not sure what to make of that. It could’ve been a purely professional observation but the way you said it made it land differently. Or maybe that was just him, reading too much into everything.

“Is that a bad thing?” 

You didn’t hesitate. “Not in my opinion.”

Was it a compliment? Just a statement of fact? 

You stepped closer, measuring tape in hand, and gave him a quick, teasing smile. “Alright, Miller. I’m gonna need to get my hands on you,” you said, voice smooth with amusement. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Joel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t sure how to answer that without sounding like a teenager. Because no, it definitely wasn’t a problem. Quite the opposite. So he cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Go ahead.”

You gave a knowing little smile, as if you’d heard what he didn’t say, and moved into his space. “I’ll start with your neck circumference,” you said, raising your hands, measuring tape between your fingers.

Joel stood still as you moved, watching as you rose onto your toes to loop the tape around his neck. He was quite taller than you, and the platform added just enough height to make the reach difficult for you.

“You want me to crouch or somethin’?” he asked, brow lifting as he glanced down.

You just smiled. “It’s alright. I’ve handled bigger.”

Joel breathed a little heavier. He wasn’t sure if you meant it to sound that way. You didn’t seem to register what you’d just said, or maybe you did, and you were very good at pretending otherwise. Either way, you carried on.

Joel said nothing. He couldn’t trust his mouth not to betray what his brain was doing, which, at the moment, was a mess of thoughts he had no business entertaining. His jaw tightened slightly as your fingers brushed the side of his throat, the tape snug against his skin. You stood so close now, barely a breath between you. He could feel the warmth of you, could smell something faint and clean on your skin, your perfume or shampoo probably, something sweet that made his chest tighten for no good reason.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. And when you stepped back a second later, noting the number with a little nod before writing it in your notebook, he swore the air felt colder without your touch.

“Shoulders,” you murmured.

Your fingers brushed over the top of his shirt, finding one shoulder seam, then carefully extending the tape across to the other. Joel held still, jaw tense. He was looking at your face again before he could stop himself. The subtle crease between your brows, the way your bottom lip caught briefly between your teeth as you made sure the tape sat just right.

“Chest now,” you said softly after noting the new number down.

You stepped back in, close enough that the brush of your arms sent a pulse straight through him. You wrapped the tape around his chest, your fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt with just enough pressure to make him notice. Your hands lingered a second longer than they strictly needed to. You hummed, pleased, maybe even appreciative, and Joel couldn’t stop the subtle inhale that followed, chest rising just slightly under your hands. His pulse kicked harder. You didn’t comment. Just shifted lower, sliding the tape down around his waist.

“Hold still.”

You worked methodically, adjusting the tape around his midsection with firm, careful movements. Your knuckles grazed over his belt as you adjusted the measurement, and Joel had to lock his hands at his sides, fingers curling into his palms to keep from reacting. He could feel the warmth of your body near his, the brush of your wrist, the ghost of touch through his shirt. He was sure you weren’t doing anything intentionally; you were just doing your job, but Christ, his body didn’t know the difference.

Next came sleeve length and arm circumference, and still you didn’t rush. Your touch was feather-light, barely there, the backs of your fingers grazing his forearm as you measured from shoulder to wrist, then wrapped around the thickest part of his bicep.

“You go to the gym, Miller?” you suddenly asked with just enough edge to make him wonder if you were teasing.

“No?” he replied quickly, trying not to let his voice betray anything he was feeling at the moment.

You glanced up at him, one brow raised. “Could have fooled me”

He didn’t have time to respond or think about what, exactly, you were implying before you stepped around him again and moved on. You crouched slightly, measuring his wrist, your fingers circling his skin with quiet precision. Then you stepped around him to measure his hips. Joel locked his jaw and focused on breathing. Every touch made him feel self conscious. And he knew you weren’t trying to fluster him. You were just doing your job. But every so often, he caught a look: a glint in your eyes, a hint of knowing in your smile, and wondered if you weren’t enjoying this just a little.

He swallowed hard. If you were, you hid it well.

He tried to focus on anything else. The soft scratch of your pen as you paused to jot down another number. The sound of distant traffic beyond the shop window. The quiet hum of jazz drifted from a speaker in the corner of the shop. Anything but the heat crawling up the back of his neck.

But then your eyes lifted to his, a smirk tugging at the edge of your mouth. “Spread your legs for me, Miller.”

His breath caught, sharp in his throat. “...Sorry?”

You gave him an entirely innocent look, but the sparkle in your eyes told a different story. “For your inseam. I need to measure it. You know… for the pants?”

Right. Of course.

He shifted, clearing his throat as he obeyed, feet spreading slightly apart. This was normal. Routine. You probably did this a dozen times a week.

Still, Joel’s body didn’t seem to care about that fact. You crouched in front of him, and he tried, really tried, not to think about anything he shouldn’t. Not about how close your face was to his zipper. Not about how your fingers moved with quiet precision along his inner thigh. Not about what it might feel like if this were a different kind of situation entirely. Fewer clothes. A lot more touching.

He absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about the shape of your mouth. Or how those lips might feel wrapped around his—

Jesus.

Your voice broke the spiral, smooth and steady. “Open your legs just a little more…”

He hesitated, just a beat too long, and then you glanced up at him with a sly little smile that nearly knocked the wind out of him. 

“Come on, Miller,” you teased. “Don’t be shy. I need every inch .”

Okay. There was no way you weren’t doing this on purpose.

Joel stood frozen for half a second, caught between disbelief and the slow burn building under his skin. He didn’t know whether he was supposed to laugh, clear his throat, or just walk straight out the door and into the cool night air until his head stopped spinning. But he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He clenched his jaw. He had to use every single ounce of willpower not to let the image settle exactly where it wanted to. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he forced them to stay there, not to fist in your hair, not to drag you closer, and do everything his mind was thinking about. But his body wasn’t listening. Not when your hand brushed the inside of his thigh to adjust the tape. Not when you looked up through your lashes with that smile like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

And maybe you did. Maybe you meant for him to stand here, rigid and barely breathing, fighting the very real, very telling reaction threatening to make this whole thing impossible to ignore.

This was dangerous. You were dangerous. 

You tilted your head, smiling just enough to make him feel like you’d noticed every one of his reactions and were choosing not to comment on any of them. 

Joel shifted slightly, widening his stance as you’d asked. And just like that, you went back to work, cool and composed, as if the heat crawling under his skin wasn’t radiating off him in waves. As if none of this affected you. Like you weren’t kneeling between his thighs with your hands so goddamn close, and your voice still lingering in his head.

He stayed quiet, letting you move around him, your hands efficient. What if you weren’t trying to rile him up? What if this wasn’t anything more than routine to you? Just another suit fitting, another client? God, maybe you said the exact same things to everyone? 

Something twisted in his chest. What if all of this, the touch, the look, the low voice, was just him seeing what he wanted to see? Reading into nothing because he was just… starved. For something as small as a look, a smile, a moment of attention from a beautiful woman like you? What if he was just a tired, lonely man letting his body betray him in a tailor shop because someone had been kind? The thought lodged like a stone in his throat.

The shame crept in slowly but sharply; hot behind his ears, down his neck. He clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead, grounding himself with the weight of it. He couldn’t afford to be wrong about this. The mere idea of you looking at him with disgust, of realizing what was going through his mind, was enough to make him freeze. Enough to shame him into stillness, into silence.

He forced himself to breathe, to think of anything else. The old woman across his street with too many cats and a porch full of junk. That goddamn client who changed his mind every  damn week and left him redoing work for free. Maria’s face if she ever found out what he was thinking right now. The disappointment in her eyes. Her fury. He’d never hear the end of it.

This was nothing. A fitting. Just fabric and numbers and tape. That’s all it was supposed to be.

Joel let you finish your work in silence. You moved around him with practiced ease, measuring his thigh, then the circumference of his knees efficiently. He appreciated that you didn’t say anything else, didn’t try to fill the space with small talk or more of those comments he couldn’t quite figure out. Just a quick glance now and then, probably to make sure he was standing right. He kept his eyes forward, staring at a fixed point on the far wall, like it might anchor him.

“Alright,” you finally said, straightening up with a soft stretch. “That’s all I need. Thank you for your patience. You can step down.”

He gave a short nod and stepped off the platform, reaching for his jacket without a word. As he pulled it back on, you were already making your way to the front desk, flipping open your notebook and jotting another thing down. Joel followed, slower this time, careful not to walk too close behind you, careful not to let his thoughts wander again.

You looked up and offered him a smile that was all business now, but still warm.

“Well,” you said, “I think I’ve got everything I need to get started. Would you be able to come back in… let’s say, a week?” You tapped your pen thoughtfully against your lip. “I should have the base of your suit ready for the first fitting by then. If we’re lucky, one fitting will be enough.”

“Sure. What time should I come back?”

“Same time works if it does for you,” you replied, eyes flicking up to meet his again. “I don’t mind late nights.”

That last part lingered in the air a half-second too long. 

“Fine by me,” he said, grateful that it wouldn’t pull him away from work.

You scribbled something final into your notes, then shut the notebook with a quiet snap. “Perfect, then,” you said, and looked up again. This time, your gaze lingered on his for a second, mouth parting like you were about to say something else, but then you didn’t. He took that as his cue to leave.

Joel tapped a knuckle lightly against the desk. “Thanks again… for takin’ this on. Appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.” You smiled softly. “See you next week, Miller.”

“Yeah,” he said, backing toward the door with a short nod. “See you then.”

The bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped out. The evening air hit him square in the chest, and he still felt warm, more than he should’ve. Like your voice was still curling in his ear, your fingertips still ghosting over his skin.

He walked toward his truck with his jacket half-zipped, hands shoved into his pockets. Trying not to think too hard. He told himself he was being stupid. Reading into things that weren’t there. He really shouldn't think about you. 

But later that night, when his cock was hard and aching in his hand, it was you he couldn’t stop thinking about. The way you’d looked up at him from your knees, lips slightly parted, like you were ready to taste him the second he let you. He imagined the soft, desperate sounds you might make with his hand tangled in your hair. The way you'd moan if he’d bent you over that front desk. And when he finally came, spilling over his knuckles and stomach, it was your name that slipped out of his lips.

The week passed both too slowly and far too quickly for Joel.

He would’ve lied if he’d said he hadn’t thought about you. In truth, your face crossed his mind more than he cared to admit. Stupid things stuck with him: the tilt of your smile, the sound of your laugh, the soft way your fingers had brushed his skin when you took his measurements. He’d spent less than an hour with you, and yet he couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. 

Even Tommy had noticed something was off. His younger brother kept shooting him looks every time Joel was deep in thought. When one morning Tommy asked, “How’s that suit comin’ along?” Joel barely looked up from his cup of coffee. 

“Fine,” he said simply. He didn’t trust himself to say more. Tommy knew him too well. One extra word, and he’d start digging. And Joel really didn't want to explain he was like that over what was basically a crush . Christ. A crush. He was pushing forty for godamn sake. He wasn’t some daydreaming kid anymore; he was a grown man who really shouldn't be thinking so much about you.  

But here he was, exactly a week later, parked in front of the shop, leaning against his truck, wondering if he looked like a fool. 

Because this time, he had made an effort. He’d left work early just to shower, change into a clean shirt that didn’t smell like drywall and sweat, and even put on cologne. Not just deodorant. Cologne . The one Sarah got him last Christmas, the nice kind.

His hand raked through his hair for what had to be the tenth time. He’d tried to slick it back before leaving, but on the drive over, his nerves had undone most of the effort. Now it just looked tousled and unruly, and he hoped it didn’t give the impression he’d just got out of bed. 

He let out a heavy breath. He shouldn't be so nervous for a fitting. One last glance in the truck’s side mirror. One last adjustment to his shirt collar. Then he finally stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling as he did.

This time, someone else was in the shop. A man, a bit older than Joel, was adjusting a jacket on one of the mannequins near the window. He looked up immediately at the sound, turning toward him with a practised smile.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice warm and professional. “What can I help you with today?”

“Hi, I’m Joel Miller,” he said as the door shut softly behind him. “I’m here for a fitting?” His eyes flicked around, instinctively searching for you. But you weren’t out front.

At the sound of Joel’s name, something shifted in the man’s expression. His smile widened, like he knew something Joel didn’t. He turned toward the back of the shop and called your name.

“Your appointment’s here!” 

A muffled response floated from the workroom: “Coming!” At the sound of your voice, Joel stood just a little straighter.

The man turned back to him, his eyes gave Joel a once-over, just enough to feel like he noticed the neat collar, the fresh shirt, the clean shave. His smile grew just a little bit wider, and he offered his hand. “I’m Frank. This is my shop.”

Joel shook it politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“Come on, she’ll be right out,” Frank said, gesturing toward the fitting area. “She’s been working pretty hard on your suit, you know? You’re gonna look sharp.”

“Sorry if I made too much work for her,” Joel muttered, adjusting the strap of his watch.

Frank waved it off. “Don’t be. She doesn’t seem to mind. Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her this invested in a piece.” He paused, glancing toward the back room again, then added with a hint of amusement, “Especially for something as simple as a classic suit…You’d think she was tailoring for a celebrity the way she’s been fussing over it.”

Joel shifted his weight, not quite sure what to do with Frank’s comment. Surely, you were just passionate about your work? 

Before Frank could say anything else, you appeared from the back, brushing your hands on your hips. “Sorry! Just had to finish a last detail,” and then your eyes landed on him. “Hey,” you said softly, your smile warm, which Joel couldn’t help but mirror immediately.

“Hi.”

Frank cleared his throat politely, though the grin on his face gave him away. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Unless you need me to stay and supervise?”

“I think I can handle it,” you replied smoothly, without looking at him.

Frank only chuckled, grabbing a few papers from behind the counter. “I’m sure.” His voice was teasing, and Joel caught the way you rolled your eyes at him without missing a beat. The older man moved toward the door, lifting a hand in farewell. “Call me if you need anything. And Miller?” He gave Joel a quick, almost conspiratorial smile. “I hope you like the suit.”

“I’m sure I will,” Joel said, offering a polite nod as Frank stepped out, the bell above the door jingling as he disappeared into the street.

You watched the door for a moment, then turned back to Joel, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, let’s get to it… unless you’re planning on staying the night.”

Joel blinked. Just an harmless joke, but the image of what a night with you would look like hit him fast and uninvited. He pushed it away before it could settle.

“Hope I didn’t give you too much trouble,” he said, clearing his throat as you gestured toward the fitting area.

You let out a soft laugh. “I won’t lie, my sleep schedule’s seen better days.”

“Sorry,” he offered genuinely. But you looked over your shoulder with an easy smile.

“Don’t be. I liked working on it.”

Joel smiled faintly. “So I heard.”

You shot him a puzzled look. “How so ?”

“Frank.”

You groaned softly, and Joel couldn’t help but smile at the mix of affection and annoyance in your expression. 

You disappeared into the back room for a moment and returned with the suit folded neatly in your arms. You nodded toward the small changing alcove at the far end of the room, separated from the rest by a simple curtain.

“Here,” you said, offering the suit to him. “Go ahead and change into it.”

Joel took it from you, careful as his fingers brushed yours. His jaw tightened at the touch. Christ, he really, really , needed to stop reacting like a teenager with a school crush.

“Call me if you need help putting it on,” you added with a small, playful smile.

He didn’t know if you were joking. He hoped you were joking. But there was something in your tone that made it hard to tell, just like last time. You gave him another smile as he stepped behind the curtain and tugged it shut.

The suit felt soft beneath his fingers. Smoother and heavier than anything he owned. He could already tell it was quality. He started undressing, taking off his jacket, then his shirt. His fingers worked quickly over his belt, and soon he was down to nothing but his boxers and socks. He stood there for a moment in the quiet of the curtained alcove, his hands paused at his hips.

Outside, he could hear you humming softly, some tune he didn’t recognise. Probably working on a mannequin while you waited. He turned toward the mirror, catching his reflection, and he hesitated.

What would you think if you saw him like this?

It was a stupid question, but it was still rooted in his mind. He looked at himself longer than he meant to. He wasn’t soft, not exactly, but he wasn’t built like the kind of man who hit the gym five days a week either. His body wasn’t bad. Broad shoulders, thick arms from years of heavy lifting and construction work, strong legs that could still carry their weight. But the soft curve of his stomach reminded him that he wasn’t twenty-five anymore. He didn’t have the abs the guys in magazines did. Never had. His muscles were earned, not sculpted. His stomach was softer now than it was in his twenties, curved slightly under the line of his ribs. A bit of age. A bit of life. A bit of beer and second helpings.

He wondered if that would matter to someone like you. Someone younger, with sharp eyes, surrounded by beautiful things all day. Maybe that’s what you liked in people, too.

He pushed the thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. He began to get dressed, pulling on the tailored trousers with care, then slipping his arms into the dark dress shirt. With the jacket on, he took a breath and turned to the mirror again to finally see himself. Dressed in all black. Clean lines. The structure emphasised his shoulders, slimmed his waist, and lengthened the line of his legs. The fit wasn’t perfect yet; he could feel it. A slight pull at the chest when he shifted his arms, the pants still a bit too long at the ankle. Even with that, it already looked very nice. 

He stepped out from behind the curtain. You turned at the sound, and your eyes landed on him. You didn't speak, just looked him over, taking your time, top to bottom. Your eyes were focused, not just admiring but evaluating. Joel felt himself stand just a little bit straighter under your watchful eyes. Then you met his gaze and smiled, proud and a little pleased with yourself.

“Looking good Miller.” 

He gave a small huff, not quite a laugh, and ran a hand down the front of the jacket, adjusting it more out of instinct than need. “That right?”

You crossed your arms, eyes lingering a second too long. “Mm-hmm. You fill it out nicely. Not every man can.”

He met your gaze, and a part of him wanted to ask: What makes me different, then? But he didn’t. 

“How does the suit feel?” you asked, stepping a little closer.

“Feels good,” he said honestly. “I like it.”

Your smile in response was warm and unguarded, a look he really liked on you. “I’m glad.” You gestured toward the small raised platform. “Can you step up? I want to see you better.”

Joel nodded and moved into place, the soft creak of the wood under his feet the only sound for a moment. You circled him slowly, your practised eye sweeping over every seam and line, noting where the fabric hugged him right and where it didn’t. 

You stepped in front of him again, pulling a small cushion of pins from your wrist. “Alright. I’ll need to mark some spots for adjustment. Don’t worry,” you added with a small grin, “I’ll be gentle.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Hope so.”

You started at his shoulders, gently tugging at the fabric there, smoothing it, fingertips dragging just enough to feel the weight of him beneath. Joel stood still, solid as a statue, but you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened when your hand brushed the curve of his bicep.

You tugged gently on the sleeve of his jacket, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Feels tight here?” you asked, brushing your fingers over the fabric along his upper arm.

Joel flexed just slightly. “A little. Not much.”

You nodded, pinching the seam to mark the alteration. “I’ll let it out a quarter inch. Should give you enough room to move.”

You stepped around him again, the scent of your perfume brushing past him as you moved behind. Sweet, like last time.

“Arms up,” you instructed gently. 

He did, and you took that moment to tug at the fabric under the arms, smoothing it again against his body. Your fingers brushed lightly across the fabric at his back, marking something near his shoulder blade.

“Gonna open the jacket now,” you said, already reaching for the buttons. Your fingers worked them open one by one, and Joel didn’t move, just watched you, half entranced by the quiet focus on your face and the way your hands moved.  He couldn't help but enjoy the sight of you. Couldn't help but think about how many times this week he'd imagined you late at night, undressing him slowly just like that.

You peeled the jacket back over his shoulders, and he slipped his arms free without a word. He passed it to you, and you handled it with care, folding it across one arm before setting it down neatly on the chair nearby. Then your eyes returned to him, checking how the shirt sat against his chest. You touched the buttons next, fingers sliding down the centre of his torso as if to test for tightness. You stopped near his belt line, fingers still resting there, the pressure light but still too heavy for Joel.

“Shirt fits pretty well already,” you said, glancing up at him again. “Though I might have to tighten the waist just a little.”

Joel’s voice came out low. “Whatever you think’s best.”

His hands itched to move, to adjust his watch, run a hand through his hair. Maybe even touch your waist. Just lightly, just once . But he kept them clenched at his sides.

“Alright,” you said, stepping back. “Let’s talk pants. How do they feel?”

“A little tight,” he admitted. “Mostly around the knees.”

“Okay… Take a few steps for me please? I want to see how they sit when you move.”

He nodded and stepped down from the wooden platform. He took a few slow steps toward you, then turned, walking away so you could assess the fit from behind. 

You clicked your tongue softly. “Little extra fabric here. I’ll smooth it out for a cleaner line across the back.” You looked back at him with a smile. “Thank you. Go ahead and step back up.”

Joel obeyed without a word, and he barely had time to settle before you crouched in front of him. His breath caught in his throat, same as last time. Maybe worse. 

Don’t move. Don’t think .

He stayed still, eyes anywhere but on you, barely breathing, as you pressed your fingers to the end of the pants, checking how the length sat around his ankles. “Little loose,” you murmured, half to yourself, before reaching for a pin. 

You moved slowly, your hands travelling from the bottom hem upward. Fingertips smoothed fabric over his shins, then over his knees. You adjusted a small fold and pinned it, working with quiet concentration. When your fingers skimmed over the inside of his thigh, flattening the fabric there, he clenched his jaw. 

“Fabric pulls here when you walk,” you said. “I’ll let it out just a bit.”

He nodded, stiff, afraid his voice would betray him if he opened his mouth. 

“You alright?” you asked lightly, as if your fingers weren't getting closer to the most sensitive parts of him.

“Yeah,” he managed. “Just standin’ real still.”

“Mmh,” you hummed. “You’re doing great.”

And as your hands reached the top of his inseam, fussing with a pin just inches from his growing problem, Joel squeezed his eyes shut. He could already feel the unmistakable pressure building beneath his waistband. Half hard and rising, despite his best efforts to stay grounded. He just prayed you wouldn’t notice.

But of course you did. 

“This part needs a bit of letting out,” you murmured, fingers brushing along the inseam. “Seems a bit tight here.”

Joel couldn’t help the low grunt in response. You looked up at him from where you knelt, chin tilted just slightly. Jesus, that view was killing him. How were you so pretty? 

“Too tight?” 

He cleared his throat, gaze snapping to some vague point across the room. Anywhere but you. “It’s fine.”

You smiled then, devastatingly slow, your fingertip resting right on the metal pull of his zipper. “Are you sure?” you teased. “That’s…quite a bulge.”

Your name slipped from his lips, rough, strained, close to a warning. “Don’t—”

You tilted your head, still kneeling before him, eyes full of feigned innocence that didn’t fool either of you. “Should I take that as a compliment to my work? Or…?”

“You…” he ground his teeth together, pulse pounding in his throat. “You need to stop sayin’ things like that…”

“Like what?”. 

He let out a low, shaky breath, fists clenched so hard at his sides he could feel his nails dig into his palms. “You know damn well what.”

“Why?” you murmured, fingertips still teasingly close to the bulge straining against the front of the pants. You traced just a whisper of touch along the zipper line, and Joel felt his knees nearly give. He was getting painfully hard now. There was no denying it.

“Because,” he ground out, voice rough, “I’m gonna get ideas. Bad ones. I’m gonna start thinkin’…” He hesitated, almost embarrassed to let the words leave his mouth. “That you’re hittin’ on me or somethin’.”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed, a bright, disbelieving sound that made his cheeks flush hot, the tips of his ears burning, thinking you were mocking him. But then you looked up at him again, your smile still there but your eyes warm and serious. “Miller…” you breathed, half amused, half exasperated. “I am hitting on you.”

For a beat, Joel couldn’t breathe. The words hit him square in the chest. You were? It wasn’t just in his head? He wasn’t just some starved old man seeing what he wanted to see? Hearing what he wished to hear?

“Really ?” That was all he managed to say, as if he needed another confirmation. 

Your smile deepened, and you shook your head, incredulous. “Oh my god, Miller. It’s not like i’m being subtle about it. I’ve been laying it on so thick I’m surprised you didn’t call me out sooner. I don’t think I’ve ever been less subtle in my damn life.”

He stared at you, still kneeling in front of him, one hand resting so casually on his thigh, the other one too close to his crotch and yet not close enough, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like confirming his wildest thoughts wasn’t shaking him to his core. It made him dizzy, made his mind go blank.

“Why?” he finally managed to ask, voice hoarse.

You tilted your head, studying him like you couldn’t believe he needed to ask. “Why am I hitting on you?” you repeated, and when he nodded, you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Have you seen yourself?”

He couldn’t help the tug at the corner of his lips, a faint, disbelieving grin breaking through. The way you looked at him, he saw it clearly now. Openly, hungrily, with the same wanting he’d tried so hard to bury, made him feel like a fool for ever doubting it. You’d been eyeing him, just like he’d been eyeing you. And now that he knew for sure, it was almost a relief, like a tension snapping loose in his chest.

“You told me you were single,” you went on. “And I just…I couldn’t help it. You bit your lip for a moment, then sighed. “Not the most professional thing I’ve ever done, I admit. I was worried last time I’d made you uncomfortable since you were so damn quiet… If it wasn’t for this ,” you let your eyes flick down pointedly to where the fabric of his pants was still straining against him. “I would’ve thought you weren’t interested.”

Joel gave a rough laugh, low in his chest. “Oh, believe me. I’m interested.” He loved the way your smile widened. How you could be even prettier, he had no idea. He wasn’t complaining, though.

“Mmm, I know. I can feel it.”

There was no pretence now, no false professionalism. Your hand slowly palmed him over the fabric, and Joel grunted, low and unfiltered, finally not having to refrain his reactions. His eyes slipped closed. He was so hard it hurt. So hard for you.

“These pants,” you said with a teasing hum, “are definitely too tight now.”

Joel let out something between a groan and a laugh, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch, searching for more friction, needing more friction.

But then, you took your hand away.

He opened his eyes, chest rising and falling a little faster now, searching your face for a reason. That voice in his head, the one that second-guessed everything, wondered if he’d misstepped, if he was being too eager, going too quick, too soon.

“I’m gonna need you to take off those pants,” you said, reaching for his zipper again. “Can’t risk you staining them.”

And just like that, the voice went quiet.

“Can't have that”, Joel agreed, his tone low and amused. He didn't need to be asked twice. 

It was the right decision; he could feel the front of his boxer already stained from his leaking precum. He was almost surprised at his restraint, at how carefully he was slipping out of the pants, mindful not to damage your work. You helped guide the trousers off, taking the pants away when he was finally out of them, leaving him in his boxer where his aching cock was waiting diligently. You tossed the pants aside near the jacket, not even looking when they landed, never leaving your spot on your knees. Joel blinked at that, at how quickly you discarded them, as if your work was less important than what was in front of you. He grinned at your eagerness, as if your work was just an annoying barrier keeping you away from what you wanted. He liked this look on you, hunger mirroring his own. You looked up to him, your lips pursed a little, and he so wanted to kiss you. He was just about to ask if he could when you spoke first.

“Can I suck you off?” You asked then, and Joel felt like he could come right there. On your knees, your eyes looking up at him from under your lashes, asking him so sweetly was better than any dreams he could have. 

“You don't have to–”

“I want to. I really want to. Please?”

Oh, he could definitely get used to the way you asked, the way you looked at him as if not being able to taste him right now would truly ruin your night. 

“Of course. Fuck– Of course you can.” 

Before he could say anything more, you pulled down the last remaining barrier keeping you away from what you wanted. Joel cock sprang free, throbbing against his stomach. You looked at his hard, thick length, the tip of it glistening with precum. There was something smug in your expression, something deeply satisfied, proud of having drawn that kind of reaction from him. Your eyes found his again, steady and unashamed, and the smile that curved your lips was so soft, so achingly pretty, Joel knew he’d be thinking about it for months. And then, without a word, you finally closed the distance.

Joel inhaled sharply as your lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his sensitive tip, teasing his slit. A low growl slipped from his throat, and his hand instinctively tangled in your hair, both for balance and because he could finally touch you. He felt you hum against him in quiet approval, the sound sending a subtle shiver through him. You started bobbing your head, taking more and more of him in your warm, wet mouth. One hand still resting on his thigh, the other wrapped around the base of him, stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit. 

“That’s it… Yes, just like that…” Joel panted through heavy breaths.

The feeling of you was so fucking good, better than anything he could have fantasised. He kept his gaze on you, watching you through hooded eyes as you worked him. The sight of your lips stretched around his cock, the sounds of your mouth with every thrust, it was almost too much for him to handle. When he felt you taking him a bit further, he rocked his hips slightly, feeling the back of your throat. It felt like heaven. Your nose was pressed against the dark patch of hair around the base of his cock, taking in his scent, your tongue playing around him. After a good moment choking on his length, you took him out of your mouth, catching your breath for a second, your hand never stopping pumping him.

“Taste better than I imagined,” you whispered, your eyes shining as you appreciated the dazed look on Joel's face before taking him back into your mouth.

Fuck. You’d imagined this too. You’d thought about tasting him, about doing exactly this. Had it crossed your mind last time, the same moment it crossed his? What else had you thought about? He wanted to know everything. Wanted to take those thoughts and make them a reality.

But then he felt your other hand palming his balls, applying just the right kind of pressure, and it was too perfect. Too close. He said your name in a low, rough growl, using every ounce of restraint he had to gently pull you back. You looked up at him, his hand still tangled in your hair, your lips swollen from working his length, a soft pout forming as you began to part them, to ask why. But before a single word escaped, he lowered himself toward you.

“If you keep going…I’m gonna cum like a freakin’ teenager,” Joel confessed, his voice strained. “And I really, really want to feel you come around my cock.”

And oh , if he could frame the way your pupils dilated at the sound of his voice, the way your breath caught and grew heavier with each word he spoke. It was intoxicating, watching you unravel just from the sound of him.

“You want that?” He teased, voice low. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Miller, I thought you’d never ask,” you replied with a knowing smile.

He scoffed, moving to join you on the floor, until you raised a finger to stop him.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Is that so I don’t ruin your work, or because you just want me naked for yourself?”

“Both, but mostly the latter,” you replied as he obeyed, peeling off his shirt and slipping out of his boxer and tossing them casually toward the pile of clothes. 

He looked down at you, leaning back on the floor with your weight supported by your elbows, eyes locked on him. You were still fully dressed, and there he was, towering over you, as naked as one man can be.

“Well, I definitely feel underdressed now.”

You arched an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “Are you? Kinda like this look on you.”

“I’m sure you do. You should try it too,” he said in the same playful tone as you. Then, lowering himself to the floor, he settled over you, his bare knees on the side of your still-clothed legs. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, tracing a path from your knee all the way to the buttons of your jeans. His finger lingered on the zipper, just like you had done earlier, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I can even help.” 

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, sliding the soft cotton sweater you were wearing over your head and letting it fall away. Beneath it, you wore a delicate, lacy bra, the kind of lingerie that felt too intricate for an ordinary day, as if you’d picked it knowing someone special would see it today. Maybe you knew damn well what was going to happen. His eyes drifted over the curve of your breasts, a flicker of appreciation lighting up his gaze.

“Doing what I can now,” he murmured, leaning closer to you, “because I can’t promise I’ll be as much of a gentleman once I feel you around me.”

His fingers found the button of your jeans, undoing it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He was completely absorbed in every subtle reaction he could get from you, the way your breath hitched, the slight parting of your lips, the flutter of your eyelashes. At the same moment, you unclasped your bra, letting it slip off your shoulders and fall softly beside your sweater. 

He felt his cock throbbing at the sight of your nipples perking for him, begging him to touch them, pinch them, bite them. He would do all that soon. 

“Don’t want you to be,” you said at last.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers curling there with a tenderness that contrasted with the heat in his eyes. And then he pulled you to him with no hesitation, no second-guessing, and kissed you like he’d been holding back to do. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry. Certain. All the want and need for you crashing into that single moment. His lips pressed to yours, firm and consuming, and you met him just as fiercely, kissing him back like you’d been waiting for it just as long. Maybe you did. He hoped you did. 

His hand cupped your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, pulling a soft moan from you directly into his mouth. Such a pretty sound. He needed a thousand more of them. 

His other hand slipped to the waistband of your open jeans, fingers curling around the edge. He glanced up at you, waiting for permission, but you were already nodding before he could ask. The two of you shared a quiet laugh at that same urgency mirrored in each other’s eyes. You lifted your hips, and he made quick work of pulling them down, your panties sliding off with them in one fluid motion.

Finally, you were as naked as he was. Joel took a moment, a full, reverent breath, to drink you in. The beauty of your body. The way heat seemed to radiate from your skin, all of it in response to him. A faint sheen of sweat kissed your collarbone, and it made him wonder how sweet you’d taste, how you’d shiver under his mouth.

His gaze dropped, lingering between your thighs. You followed his gaze, parting them for him, unashamed, the glisten of arousal right where you needed him most catching his eyes. He loved that. That confidence of yours. Loved how you showed him exactly where you wanted him, without any ounce of embarrassment. He needed to touch you. To taste you. To fuck you. 

“The door?” he asked suddenly, the thought breaking through the haze. You weren’t exactly in a bedroom where he could do everything he wanted without caring about the outside world. The fitting area was tucked away from view, but still, Joel wasn’t in any rush to have a client , or worse, Frank, walk in on this.

“Closed it when you were changing,” you murmured against his neck, your lips trailing soft, warm kisses along his skin.

He let out a low chuckle. “Had everythin’ planned, didn’t you?”

You answered without words, just a playful nip at his bottom lip, pulling it gently between your teeth before letting go. Then you kissed him again, deeper this time, and when he opened his mouth to you, your tongue met his in a way that made Joel wonder if he had ever liked kissing someone more. 

Two of his fingers went to your cunt, parting your glistening folds, and he exhaled shakily when he felt how wet you were. It was something to see it, it was something else to feel it. To feel the concrete evidence of how much you wanted this. How much you wanted him. 

“All that just from havin’ me in your mouth ?” He murmured against your lips.

Your hand found his hair, fingers curling in deep before giving a playful tug, breaking the kiss for just a second.

“Was wet for you from the moment I saw you at the door.”

Joel couldn't help a half-choked breath. Eyes never leaving yours, His thumb found your clit immediately, pulling out a more than appreciative whimper out of you. His two fingers easily slid into your dripping cunt. He gave you a second to accommodate the intrusion of his fingers, kissing that spot just under your ear, before he started to pump them in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside of you. 

“Feels good? He asked, even though the soft moans that kept escaping your soft lips were confirmation enough.

You nodded fervently, your hips moving in rhythm against his hand to feel his fingers deeper in you. You didn't have time to ask him; he gave in to you, circling your clit harder with his thumb as he picked up the pace. At the same time, his mouth explored your body, hungry to taste every inch of you. He trailed soft kisses to your jaw, under your ear, to your neck. His other hand went to your back, bringing you closer to him as his mouth met your hardened nipple, biting it, his teeth grazing perfectly. He drank in every sound you gave him, every breathy moan guiding his touch, telling him just how to please you. He could feel you getting closer, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your breath coming in ragged gasps, getting more and more shaky from his touch. 

“Come on, beautiful… let go. I’ve got you.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, Joel sent you over the edge. You closed your eyes as the sensation overwhelmed you, white spots blurring your vision. Your pussy clamping around his digits, pulsing and contracting as you let out the most beautiful sound. Joel kept his thumb circling your clit, applying just enough pressure to let you ride out your orgasm. He held you there, his other hand still on your back, as you came down from your high. 

When your breathing finally slowed down, His fingers left your cunt, and you whimpered at the sensation, already missing the feeling of fullness they brought you. You opened your eyes, as Joel's lips found yours, gently kissing you. 

“Good ?” He whispered, holding you close.

You laughed sweetly, a sound he already knew he could never forget. “Perfect.” 

Your hand found his cock, still as hard as before, just enough to pull a low moan deep in Joel’s throat. He needed to be inside you now.

“Fuck,” he realised at the same time, “I don't have a condom.” 

Even though it was hardly the time to think about his brother, Joel couldn’t help but remember all the times Tommy told him to keep one in his wallet. In case you remember how to get your dick wet, brother! Fucking Tommy and his damn advice. But for once in his life, Joel really should’ve listened to him.

He felt your hand gently trace the line of his jaw, fingers brushing over his scratchy beard. “I’m clean, and I’m on the pill…” You hesitated for a moment, searching his eyes. “If you want…”

He gulped. “Are you sure?”

“I really want you to fuck me, Miller”

He kissed you again, deeper and more urgently than before. He leaned over you, hands braced on either side of your head on the floor, pinning you gently beneath the weight of his broad frame. You brought his cock against your entrance, his tip brushing against your clit, a shared moan escaping from both of you at the sensation. Joel looked down at where he was nestled against your folds, your arousal coating his length. He couldn't look away as he started to push forward, the thick head of his cock stretching your entrance. 

“God, you're so tight… Just relax, beautiful.. Let me in.” He coaxed, one hand cupping your face tenderly.

He pressed his lips to yours, as if he couldn't stay away from you for too long, distracting you as you accommodated to his size. His other hand came up to cup your breast, kneading the soft mound, his fingers teasing your nipple. Slowly, as if he were afraid to break you, he pressed deeper, feeling how perfectly you were taking him, your walls gripping his cock.

“Fuck– You're so–” You were a breathless mess beneath him, words tumbling out in fragments. “You're so big…”

“I know Baby… I know.”

He felt the way you tightened around him at the petname, and his lips curled into a knowing smile against yours. Finally, he hilted himself entirely inside you, his heavy balls pressing against your ass. He had to wait a second before he could move again, waiting for you to relax and for him to take a second to breathe, or he would be coming undone too quickly. You just felt so good around him, so tight and perfect. When he felt both your breathing steadying, he slowly withdrew his cock until only his tip was still inside you. You whimpered under him, your hips begging him to come back. He kept you there for a second, his hands grabbing your hips hard, fingers digging so tightly it wouldn't be surprising if you bruised there tomorrow. Joel liked the idea of you having a reminder of this, of him. 

“What’s it that you said last week, uh?” He taunted, your eyes fluttering open to watch him. “When you were riling me up and I was doing everythin’ to be good?”

You mumbled something incoherent, too focused on trying to get more of him inside of you, to feel that delicious stretch again. You didn't care about last week; you cared about him, right now, but Joel's grin grew wider. 

“Oh yeah, I remember… I need every inch.” he cooed, imitating your voice. “Yeah, you fucking do.”

And then he slammed back in you, his cock hitting the deepest part of you. You let out a cry as the sensation, your arms immediately wrapping around his shoulders to bring him closer to you. He gripped your hips with a low growl, pulling you flush against him as he pounded in you, wanting to go deeper with each thrusts. 

“Joel–” you mewled between whines. “Oh fuck!”.

He wasn’t sure his name had ever sounded that good on anyone’s lips.

“Again.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Uh?”

“My name. Say it again.”

So you did, singing his name like it was the only word that you could remember as he kept snapping his hips against yours. His name a desperate plea, a prayer. Joel Joel Joel.

For a moment, the shop was nothing but the sound of your voice crying out his name, the raw slap of skin against skin, and the rough, reverent praise he growled into your ear.

Doin’ so good for me, baby. 

You feel incredible… you’re so fuckin’ beautiful

Sweet pussy so tight for me, so perfect..

Joel leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling the sensitive bud. His pace didn't falter, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

“I'm.. Joel–” You gasped under him. “ Fuck Joel– I'm close…”

He could feel you tightening around him, your body tensing as you got closer to your release. His own orgasm was building, threatening to overcome with every sound you made for him, but he was holding back, determined to make you come first, to give you the pleasure you deserved. His hand travelled to your clit, his thumb moving in half circles, making your whole body shake with pleasure. 

“Come for me, baby, please,” Joel said in a choked exhale. “I want– I need to feel you come on my cock.”

Your cunt clutched around him at his words, your sweet moans filling the room as your orgasm took over you, and Joel swore he was brought to this earth to hear those sounds. The sensation of you, fluttering around him, his name escaping your lips as you did, was his undoing. He couldn't hold himself any longer. He knew you could feel it too, your eyes opening to watch him, your hand grabbing his arm instinctively.

“Baby…” Joel started, but he didn't have time to ask. 

“Inside. Please, come inside me.” 

And if Joel were a better man, he might have refused. But in this moment, all he could feel was you, so tight, so perfectly made for him. So he wasn’t a better man, and honestly, he’d already made his peace with that if it meant having you. He buried himself deep with a final slap of his hips, his cock pulsing as he came hard inside you, your name leaving his lips as his hips jerked with each spurt of his release. He kept grinding against you, working his cock in and out of you as long as he could, prolonging both your orgasms. He could feel your mixed come seeping out of you around his cock with every movement. It was filthy. You both loved it. 

You grabbed his hair, pulling him down to capture his lips in an eager kiss as both your orgasms started to subside. His thrusts finally slowed down to a stop. He rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting and glistening with sweat. You looked at each other, both with a satisfied smile on your lips. 

“That was–”

“Fucking amazing,” you finished for him, and the two of you laughed gently. 

He finally pulled out of you with a satisfied grin, not without appreciating the sight of his cum slowly making its way out of you. He pushed it back inside with his fingers, noticing how you watched him do it with appreciative eyes. Finally, he rolled on his back next to you, your shoulders brushing against each other on the wooden floor of the shop. 

He turned his face toward you, only to find you already watching him, your body instinctively angled in his direction. Your eyes met his in a shared, dazed gaze as his chest finally slowed down. A strand of hair clung to your forehead, damp with sweat, and he gently brushed it back, tucking it away. When his hand lingered to cup your cheek, you leaned into his touch without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I…” Joel paused, unsure what the hell he was supposed to say now. “I don’t usually do this.”

“Me neither,” you said, brushing a quick kiss to his lips, too quick for his liking. “Believe me, Miller, you’re the only client I’ve ever crossed the line with. The only one I’ve ever wanted to.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” he muttered, meaning it as a joke, but it landed closer to the truth than he expected.

Because knowing you found him attractive enough to make a move, multiples even, to risk the usual boundaries, to toss professionalism aside just to see if the attraction was mutual? It set something warm in his gut, a heat creeping up the back of his neck. He was sure it wouldn't go away for a long time, didn't want it to. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you teased, reaching for a nearby scrap of fabric nearby to clean the mess between your legs. Joel briefly wondered if the small cloth was something expensive, but you didn’t seem to care, and he didn’t ask. His attention was caught instead by the way the fabric darkened with your shared release, the evidence of how deep he was inside you just moments before. 

“I never blushed,” he muttered, eyes flicking back to your face, though the spark in your eyes told him you were just as affected as he was by the sight.

“Don’t go all shy on me now. I liked watching you try to keep it together. You were cute, trying so hard to hide it.”

“I thought I was being subtle,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

“Oh, sure,” you smiled, shifting closer and letting your fingers trail lightly over his chest as you tilted your head toward his. “ So subtle. You know, most clients don’t moan when I measure their inseam.”

His brow furrowed, gaze narrowing on you. “I didn’t moan.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Did he? God, he wasn't sure. 

You gave him a wicked little smile, and he couldn’t help but pull you closer, guiding you fully onto him. The warm press of your still bare skin against his made something in him settle, his thoughts only focused on how good you felt. He kissed you again, slower this time, unrushed simply because he could. Because you were there, perfect and fitting against him as if you were meant to.

“Fuck,” Joel cursed softly between two kisses, “If I’d known a proper suit would lead to this, to you… I would have come sooner.” 

You giggled softly against his lips before turning your head toward the scattered pile of clothes on the floor, just a few feet away. Joel felt you shift slightly against him, and his hand moved in slow, soothing strokes along your back.

“I really hope we didn’t ruin the suit,” you said, glancing back at him with a hint of concern. “Should’ve been more careful with it. I seriously don’t have time to fix any major damage.”

“‘S my fault. Gave you an awful deadline, and then here I am keeping you away from your work. I’m a terrible client.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, and you let out a quiet laugh. “Then I must be a terrible tailor,” you replied, “because I really, really like when you keep me away.”

Joel felt something tighten in his chest. Did you even know what you were doing to him? He wondered if you could feel the way his heart beat harder beneath your hand, like it was answering only to you. You were funny, kind, ridiculously talented, and so damn beautiful. Was it foolish of him to think this felt like more than a simple moment of pleasure? To hope this wasn’t just a one-time thing? He wanted more. To see you again, outside this shop. Somewhere he could be the one to make you blush. 

You were saying something about the deadline, about how the wedding was creeping closer when Joel cut you off.

“You should come with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“To the weddin’. You should come with me.”

“You want me to… come to the wedding? With you?”

Joel shifted, sitting up and taking you with him, guiding you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. He pressed a slow kiss to the curve of your neck. He couldn’t help himself, not with your skin so close and inviting.

“I do,” he murmured against your skin, then pulled back, needing to see your face, to gauge what you were thinking. The look you gave him was unreadable, and it made his stomach twist just a little. “I mean–yeah, I probably got the order a little backwards. Should’ve taken you out first, done this right,” he said, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “But better late than never, right? And… I do have a plus one.”

There was a beat of silence where you just looked at Joel, expression unreadable, and for a moment, he wondered if he’d pushed too far and ruined whatever moment you were having. But then you gave him a curious smile.

“You want to take me on a first date to a wedding?”

He tensed, trying to sound casual. “Too weird?”

“Between that and the suit,” you teased, “I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing for rushing things.”

He let out a quiet breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Forget the weddin’, then. Just…let me take you out. A real date. Please,” he added, the word slipping out faster than he meant to, a flash of uncertainty creeping in. Maybe this was just a one-time thing for you?

You didn’t answer right away, and Joel braced himself for the gentle letdown. But then you said, “Once your suit’s done… I should have some time for a real date.”

Joel smiled instantly. A real, full smile. The kind he rarely gave. The kind that pulled out that faint dimple Sarah always teased him about. You couldn't help but smile back, warmed by the sight of it.

“By the way,” you said, shifting slightly on top of him, “I think you should come get your suit the morning of the wedding if that’s okay with you? I know it’s a little last minute, but I really want to make sure it’s perfect for you.”

Joel nodded as he leaned back on his elbows, his eyes never leaving you as you spoke. He wasn’t in his twenties anymore, but looking at you, naked and perched over his waist, your tits rising slightly with each breath, your pussy still wet from and for him, he knew it wouldn’t take him long to be ready for another round. His hands itched to reach for you again, to be inside you one more time.

But before he could entertain the idea, the familiar sound of his ringtone cut through the moment. You glanced toward the sound with a knowing smile still on your lips — the same lips he hadn’t finished kissing yet.

Joel let out a low groan as he stood, dragging himself away from the warmth of your body. He stepped back toward the pile of clothing, finding his discarded jeans and fishing out his phone. Tommy’s name lit up the screen.

Of course it was his brother.

Joel shot you an apologetic look before answering. “What’s up Tommy?” he said, his eyes still trained on you. You were propped on your elbows, unabashedly ogling his nakedness without any shame. He liked this look on you. 

“Hey Joel. Sorry to bother, I know you're at your appointment,” Tommy started, “but when do you think you'll be headin' home?

Joel’s stomach dropped. Tommy was at his place, keeping an eye on Sarah. His brother never called when he was babysitting. Never needed to. “Why?” he asked sharply, already reaching for his jeans. “Is somethin’ wrong? Is Sarah okay?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you rising to your feet, your expression shifting. You were gathering your clothes quietly, understanding without needing to ask that whatever you’d just shared had been cut short. He hated that, almost as much as the panic twisting in his chest.

​​“She’s okay,” Tommy said on the other end, his voice calm but laced with that careful tone people used when they didn’t want you to panic. “She’s got a bit of a fever. Nothin’ serious, I swear. Gave her some medicine, but she’s restless…won’t go to sleep.”

Joel’s chest tightened. He pictured Sarah, his sweet girl, curled up under a blanket, cheeks flushed, sniffling and tossing in bed. She needed him. She always had, and he needed to be there, to hold her hand, stroke her hair, whisper that everything was going to be alright.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, already tugging on his shirt. “Alright. I’ll be home in twenty.”

After a quick see you soon from his brother, Joel ended the call, patting his pocket to make sure his car keys were still there and not lost somewhere on the floor, before grabbing his jacket. When he turned around, you were already dressed just like him, but barely put back together. Anyone walking in could tell what had happened between you. Both of you were flushed, your hair a mess, lips still swollen from kissing, skins still glistening and carrying the scent of each other... God, he didn’t want to leave. Not when all he could think about was pulling you close again, hearing those filthy little sounds you made, and finally bending you over that damn counter the way he’d imagined since he first walked in. But reality tugged at him harder. He had to go: Sarah was waiting. 

And somehow, like you could hear every unspoken thought racing through his head, you gave him a soft, knowing smile.

“Go. It’s okay,” you said softly, stepping closer and resting your hand over his chest for just a moment.

“I’m sorry–” Joel murmured, but you were already shaking your head.

“Don’t be. You’ve got important things to do… and so do I.” You nodded toward the half-finished suit waiting on the floor. “Need to make sure we didn’t pop any stitches. The deadline’s already tight enough.”

A smile tugged at his lips despite everything. “Can’t have that.”

He lingered for a beat, then leaned in and pressed a brief but meaningful kiss to your lips.

“See you the day of the weddin’?”

You hummed against his mouth, smiling. “Yes. Now go,” you said, stepping back from him like it took as much willpower for you to leave this moment as it did for him.

He never hated the sound of the bell above the door more than that night. 

The wedding was nothing short of beautiful. Tommy and Maria exchanged their vows in a rustic, converted barn just south of Austin, surrounded by the warmth of family and friends. Sarah served as the flower girl, her laughter ringing out as she gracefully walked down the aisle in a beautiful purple dress. Standing beside his brother as best man, Joel felt his chest swell with a fierce, tender love watching his daughter so carefree and happy. He caught every word Tommy spoke, his little brother’s voice usually so steady and confident, cracking just slightly with emotion as he vowed his love to his now wife. Many wiped away tears as the couple finally said "I do" beneath a canopy of flowers and fading sunlight. 

It might have been the perfect day, if not for one thing. Or rather, the absence of one person. Yours.

Joel never saw you that morning. He’d thought about you all week, a constant pull deep in his chest, forcing himself not to swing by the shop just for a glimpse of you. Instead, he threw himself into work and wedding prep, trying to dull the itch of missing you. He cursed himself daily for not asking for your number. One night, when the longing twisted too sharply in his chest, he searched online and found the shop’s listed phone, but the thought of Frank picking up stopped him cold. He didn’t want to seem overeager, didn’t want to scare you off with his restlessness. It had been so long since he’d felt this way, since wanting someone had felt this easy and this terrifying. He missed your voice. Your laugh. The press of your body against his. And though he was certain Tommy had picked up on the shift in his mood, for once his brother didn’t tease, too focused on the biggest day of his life fast approaching.

So to say Joel had been eager to get to the shop that morning would’ve been a massive understatement. The nice cologne had been used again and he looked more put together than he had the week before, groomed for the wedding later that day but thinking only of you. He wanted to see your eyes on him again. Wanted to know if you’d look at him like you had last time, to know if you wanted him just as much.

It was the only thing on his mind as he pushed open the shop door. But instead of finding you behind the counter, he saw Frank. Joel’s heart sank a little, though he tried not to show it. Still, he asked, as casually as he could, if you were in the back, maybe finishing up the final touches. But the look on Frank’s face said everything before he even opened his mouth.

You weren’t there. 

Joel’s stomach dropped. You hadn’t kept your word. Well… "word" was a bit of a stretch, you hadn’t promised exactly, but he’d clung to that moment, to your smile and the softness in your voice when you said you’d see him on the morning of the wedding. He’d replayed it more times than he cared to admit.

He must not have hidden the disappointment well, because Frank cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice more gentle than Joel expected.

“She was working on it ‘til late this morning,” he said. “Pushed herself too hard, I think. Took the day off to rest. But it was worth it… the suit looks incredible. One of her best, if you ask me.”

So that was it. You weren’t here because of him. The irony of it twisted something in his chest.

Frank disappeared into the back to retrieve the suit, leaving Joel alone with the silence of the shop. His eyes drifted, unbidden, to the spot on the floor where just days ago your bodies had been tangled together, breathless and blissful. 

Would he see you again? Should he wait for you to reach out? Or come back in a few days with some excuses in hope of catching you? 

Maybe this was your way of letting him down easy, skipping this morning to avoid saying it out loud. Maybe agreeing to the date was something you said in the moment to smooth the goodbye. Joel wasn’t sure which version stung worse: the possibility that you didn’t mean it, or that you had… but changed your mind.

Still, he tried to tell himself he was lucky. That if this was the end, at least it ended on a high note, one that had kept him awake in bed most nights this week, haunted him in the shower, followed him even in his truck one morning when the memory of you was getting too much. 

Frank reappeared, the suit neatly encased in a protective garment bag. After settling the payment, Joel took it with equal care. Hands steady, heart anything but. There was a strange mix bubbling in his chest: anticipation to see the final product you’d worked so hard on… and the quiet ache of knowing you weren’t here to show it to him.

He was about to thank Frank and say goodbye when the older man stopped him, reaching behind the counter.

“Hold on,” Frank said, offering a small box with a knowing smile. “She picked this out for you. Took her time with it.”

Joel’s brows drew together in confusion as he gently opened the box. Inside was an elegant, perfectly folded green pocket square. He stared at it for a moment, thinking back to the first appointment with you. That made his throat tighten. With everything going on, he had never told you what colour he wanted. This choice, this detail, was all yours. 

You'd thought of him.

Perhaps you meant what you said, and maybe you’d been thinking about him just like he’d been thinking about you. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He’d be coming back, there was no question about it now. He wasn’t going to let this — you — become a fleeting moment. Not when it could be something more.

He looked around the shop one last time, his gaze lingering on the space where he’d kissed you last, a moment he had replayed more times than he’d admit. With a soft exhale, he nodded to Frank.

“Tell her thank you… for everything,” Joel said quietly.

“Will do,” Frank replied with a knowing look.

The bell above the door jingled as Joel stepped out into the sunlight, suit in one hand, pocket square in the other.

When he put it on the suit later that day, standing in front of a mirror in Tommy’s room, he allowed himself to smile. The final suit was beautiful, more than Joel could have imagined. Every stitch was precise, every seam perfectly aligned. He could feel the care you'd poured into it, the way it moulded to him like it had been made by someone who knew him intimately. And, in some ways, you did. 

He looked good, and he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Tommy let out a low whistle when he caught sight of him. “Well, damn,” he laughed, clapping a hand on Joel’s back. “Didn’t know you cleaned up this good.”

Then came Sarah, who gasped the moment she saw him. “You look so handsome, Dad!” she giggled, running into his arms. He picked her up easily, heart swelling as she beamed at him so wide in her pretty flower girl dress. 

Throughout the reception, a few other guests surprised Joel with compliments. Some people he knew, some others he didn't. A few words on the quality of the suit, or just telling him how handsome he looked tonight. He wasn't used to this kind of attention; he was a man usually more at home in jeans and work boots, and felt a rare heat rise to his cheeks with each kind word. It was a strange thing, being the centre of attention, but beneath the initial awkwardness was something deeper. Some kind of pride. Not just in himself, but in you . People were admiring your work, and by extension, they were seeing him the way you had.

Joel was leaning against the bar, his eyes on the dance floor where Tommy and Sarah were spinning in tight little circles. His daughter stood on her uncle’s feet, clinging to his hands as she laughed with that bright, unfiltered joy only kids could muster. Her giggles rose above the music, and Joel couldn’t help but smile into his glass as he took another sip of whiskey. He wondered how long he had before Sarah would come barreling back to pull him out for another dance. At least now, in this new suit, he wouldn’t look like a wrinkled mess doing it. The thought of the old thing made him grimace; he would’ve been sweating through it by now.

He adjusted that deep green pocket square you'd picked for him as his mind drifted again. To you. It kept happening every time someone complimented him tonight, when a couple swayed close together, and he imagined you in his arms instead. When he caught sight of that guy across the room, who looked vaguely like Frank, when–

“I do love a man in a suit,” a soft voice said behind him. “Even more when I’m the one who put him in it.”

Joel turned so fast he nearly knocked over his drink, his heart jumping into his throat. His eyes widened the moment he saw you. There you were, smiling at him like a dream.

“Hi, Joel,” you said gently, stepping closer to him. You were in a stunning green dress that hugged your body in all the right places. Just devastly beautiful. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words dried out before they could form. Before he could ask you anything, How did you get here? How are you even more beautiful than last time? Did you miss me like I missed you? A voice from the side cut in.

“There you are!” Maria’s arms were suddenly around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I was starting to think you’d skip the whole thing.”

“I missed the ceremony already,” you said with light guilt showing in your voice, pulling back and taking in her look, “I couldn’t possibly skip the party too.” Your eyes lit up as you looked her over. “You look incredible . That dress…it’s perfect on you.”

Maria grinned and spun in place, holding out the sides of her dress as if she were on a stage. “I know, right?” she said with an almost disbelieving laugh. Then, eyes shining, she added, “Can you believe it? I’m married !”

You leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I can, and I couldn’t be happier for you. Congratulations.”

It wasn’t until the laughter faded that the two of you seemed to remember the man standing just a few steps away, watching in silence. Slowly, you turned back toward Joel. He was staring between you and Maria like he was trying to solve a puzzle he was missing a piece of. You. At the wedding. Hugging Maria like you belonged here.

Maria glanced over and smiled. “I believe you two have met?”

“We did,” Joel prayed his voice didn’t betray his confusion.

You looked at him calmly, maybe even amused by his reaction. “How are you liking the suit Miller?”

Joel met your eyes. “It’s perfect,” he answered truthfully. The way your smile deepened at his words made something in him stumble. His heart, maybe.

“He really does look amazing,” Maria added, throwing you a sincere look. “You did such a great job. Hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

You held Maria’s gaze for a beat before turning your eyes back to Joel, something unmistakably teasing flickering behind them. “Not at all,” you said, your voice smooth. “He was very… memorable.”

Joel swore the collar of his shirt suddenly felt too tight. His hand instinctively tugged at it as a flush crept up his neck. Before he could say anything, someone called out Maria’s name from across the dance floor. She gave your hand a quick squeeze before she was swept away into the crowd, off to hug another relative or accept another congratulations. 

You turned toward the bar, ordering something light and fizzy from the bartender and Joel’s eyes followed you, tracing the line of your dress, the way the soft fabric hugged every part of you he hadn’t stopped thinking about all week. Just minutes ago, he’d been wondering if he’d ever see you again. Now here you were, real and stunning and close enough to touch.

He stepped closer, barely thinking before the words left his mouth. “You’re here.”

You turned, now holding your drink, and leaned against the wooden bar as you gave him a faint smile. “I’m here.”

“I don’t understand…” Joel admitted as he mirrored your position. “You know Maria?”

“Old friend from college…well, roommate actually,” you said with a small shrug, watching him closely. “Honestly, I thought you knew, since she’s the one who sent you to me. Well… I did right up until you invited me to the wedding.”

Joel huffed a soft, breathless laugh. “A weddin’ you were already invited to,” he said, shaking his head.

You gave a small, almost guilty nod, lips tugging into the faintest smile.

Joel stared at you for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your eyes lingered on his, a teasing glint there, but also something warmer underneath. “Didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Joel’s smile twitched at the corners, but he couldn’t help himself. “Is that why you weren’t there this mornin’?”

You winced just slightly at his words. The regret in your expression was clear, and you stepped in closer. Close enough that he noticed your perfume was different from what clung to his memory. Spicier, but just as enticing. It wrapped around him, and it made him ache to lean in, press his mouth to the hollow of your neck and find out if it tasted the same.

Your fingers brushed the front of his vest, then slowly traced down the line of his jacket. Joel felt his pulse stutter. “I’m sorry,” you said gently. “I really meant to be there. But I was working on this until the sun came up.” You gave the lapel a small tug, grounding your words. “I needed a few hours of sleep if I was going to be any good for the party tonight and–”

“And you knew you’d see me tonight,” Joel finished for you, his voice laced with something hopeful he couldn’t quite hide.

You nodded, your hand still resting lightly against his chest. His eyes followed the movement as your fingers drifted downward until they found the silk of his pocket square. You let your touch linger, smoothing the fabric with a kind of absent affection that made his heart thud harder in his chest. His gaze flicked between your hand and your face, catching the subtle lift of your lips as your smile teased at the corners. 

“It’s the same colour,” he finally murmured, more for himself than for you, as he glanced between the green silk and your dress in that same shade.

You looked up at him then, meeting his gaze fully. The smile you gave him wasn’t coy. It was bold, just like you. 

“Did you… pick this so I’d match you?” he asked then, his voice a little breathless.

“Maybe,” you said in a softvoice, eyes not leaving him. “I wanted to see if you'd wear a little piece of me.”

Joel swallowed hard, warmth blooming in his chest. It was something he’d nearly forgotten how to feel, to be this openly wanted. He wanted to reach for you. To rest his palm against your cheek just to see if you’d lean into the touch. He wanted to kiss those tempting lips of yours, just to feel that low, breathy sound you made when he last had the pleasure of touching you. He wanted to take your hand and find somewhere quiet, somewhere he could reach under that dress and do everything he’d been thinking about since last week. But the night still belonged to his family, and he didn't want to be that guy missing out on this special occasion. 

He turned his head, letting his eyes follow the sound of Sarah’s laughter. She was still on the dance floor, now sandwiched between Tommy and Maria, the three of them a perfect painting of joy. And then his gaze slid back to you. Somehow, he was sure the canvas could only be better if he took your hand and led you into the light. Would you let him? 

“Does Maria know?” Joel wondered, nodding subtly toward the bride. 

You didn’t even blink. “About you fucking me dumb on the shop floor?” you said casually, and Joel nearly choked on nothing but air, coughing into his fist.“No, didn’t really come up yet.”

“Yet?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded slowly. “I mean, you’re still taking me out on that date, right? Then I’ll consider telling her…if it goes well, of course.”

“Of course,” Joel echoed, his hand settling gently at your waist, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the fabric of your dress. Just then, the music that was playing faded into something softer just in time for Joel to lean in and ask: “Can I have this dance?”

You raised a teasing brow. “You got moves, Miller?”

“Plenty of 'em.” 

“Perfect, I’ve been waiting to see this suit in action,” you smiled as Joel took your hand, guiding you toward the dance floor. You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a teasing murmur only for him. “But I do have a question about it…”

Joel raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“Will you let me take it off you later?”

Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you thought! Leave a comment, a reblog, or even an ask! It would mean a lot :)

[tiredfoxtf]

I loveee ur gribeans art there realy arent enough shippers for them after like an entire series of them just being murder buddies in last life and dying whilst calling out for each other T^T

pleaasee share any gribeans headcannons u have id love to hear em i need more people to talk about them lol

We as a society moved on too fast from them. Last life was so crazy for them. And then Bad Boys in Limited Life happened as well and I don't think any of them recovered from it.

However I am a bit of a wrong person to ask about headcannons, I have a hard times concentrating my thoughts together. No coherent sentences. Only sounds.

[cinnxmxngxrl]

“Too old”

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Part 2 here Joel’s Masterlist Join the tag list

Summary: You’ve been throwing yourself at Joel Miller for months, even if the answer was always a no. But tonight he comes knocking at your door.

WC: 3k

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, age gap, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving).

A/N: Just so you know english is not my first language and this is literally my first time writing, so it’s probably terrible but wanted to try anyway. Also this is pretty much all smut without plot.

“I’m too old for you.”

That was the same bullshit excuse he’d always use. Every single time you tried to make a move, he’d bring up the age difference. You weren’t sure if it was because he was scared of what the people of Jackson would say behind closed doors or if he was worried he wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.

Because yes, he was old, but no other man had ever made you feel so weak in the knees like him. Like that time you saw him fixing one of the fences, flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, those huge arms on full display, veins popping out. Logically, you had to run home to relieve the ache between your thighs, thinking of him. Always of him.

Or that other time, right after winter, when you saw him in his new pants, new for him, at least. legs spread wide as he sat, too preoccupied talking to Tommy for him to notice the way you drooled over the big bulge that the too-tight pants revealed. All you could think about was how it would feel to sit on top of that and ride it until your legs went numb.

“Listen, darlin’, ’m twice your age. It’d never work. Just let it go,” he said, shutting you down once again. “Plenty of young men f’you here.”

“You know, to me, it sounds like you’re scared,” you shot back. “Scared it might work. Scared you might like it too much.” You took a few steps closer to him, your hand barely brushing his broad chest.

He scoffed, amused as if what you had said was completely ridiculous. “You’re so sure of yourself, huh? ’M sorry to break it to you, but I’d never see you as anythin’ but a kid.”

Now you laughed. “A kid, you say? Then swear to me you’ve never thought about me before going to sleep,” you said, a smile on your face that implied you already knew the answer.

“I’ve never thought about you… in that way.” A lie. You could see right through him, the way he looked away, avoiding your gaze.

You chuckled. “Oh right, of course, you haven’t.” The sarcasm was unmistakable in your voice.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re givin’ me a goddamn headache.” He said through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think of young girls in that way.”

“I’m not a young girl, Joel, in case you haven’t noticed.”

And damn if he hadn’t noticed. Of course, he fucking did. He was only a man, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t help but stare at your ass when you were bending down to pick up tomatoes in the garden, picturing how you’d look bent over his kitchen counter instead, with him fucking you from behind. The truth was that this was his most recurring fantasy on those cold, lonely nights when he had his hand wrapped around his hard cock, imagining bending you over every possible surface, cumming in record time just by thinking about it. He wouldn’t even dare imagine how long he’d last if he were actually inside you.

“Still, you’re too young for me anyway,” he said. More excuses, you thought.

“You’ll change your mind eventually, Joel. I’m gonna enjoy seeing you crawl to me, and I’m gonna be waiting because I’m a very patient woman,” your tone was far too seductive, nearly making him say “fuck it”and give in. “You know where I live, so find me there when you grow the balls to be with me.”

Joel muttered a curse under his breath as he watched you walk away, your head held high and your hips swaying.

That night, he rolled restlessly in bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, those beautiful eyes of yours, and oh that mouth that would look so good wrapped around his cock, taking it all in. He couldn’t stop the way his body reacted to those thoughts; he was so fucking hard it was painful. No matter how much he tried to look at the ceiling and think of anything else, nothing worked, and with every passing second he grew more relentless.

“Screw it,” he thought as he stood up from bed, putting on a pair of jeans and a jacket at lightning speed. The town was quiet and empty this late at night as he made his way to your house. He felt stupid; he was an old man. He should know better than to cave in, to knock on your door in the middle of the night because he needed some much-wanted release. But right now, none of that mattered.

A few moments after he knocked on your door, and you finally appeared, a knowing smirk on your face. “Oh, Joel, what a surprise.”

He tried hard to swallow the humiliation he felt for being so weak. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, go ahead.” You opened the door for him to enter and led him to your small couch, sitting down and patting the spot next to you.

He had tried really hard not to look at your chest in that skin-tight tank top you were wearing, but when he sat down, his eyes, almost as if they had a mind of their own, traveled down and noticed your hard nipples pushing through the fabric, and he had to suppress a groan from escaping his lips.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout you. I—fuck… you don’t leave my mind for a second,” he admitted.

“Well, that’s a start, you know, you finally admitting that you think of me in your bed.” You teased him, trying to make fun of him just for the pleasure of watching him squirm.

He clenched his hands, a useless attempt to restrain himself from pulling you close and kissing you senseless. His eyes roamed over your figure, lingering on your thighs, exposed under those shorts that were way too tiny, and he felt the heat returning to his body.

You noticed the way he was staring, like a wolf examining its prey before pouncing.

“You like what you see, old man?” You couldn’t help but test him; you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

“Don’t be a smartass… ’m a man. Course ’m gonna look.” His voice was low with desire.

“Why don’t you come and get a taste then?” you bit your lip as you spoke.

And that was all it took. He finally reached out to you, his fingers slowly running down the soft skin of your arm until they reached your thigh, sending sparks through your body. It was all too much for him; you felt too good under his hands, and he needed more. He desperately needed more, as if it was a matter of life or death.

He leaned closer, so close you could feel each other’s breaths, smell each other’s shampoo, so close you could almost taste each other.

“Fucking finally,” you whispered into his mouth, teasing him one last time before Joel lost the last shred of restraint he had left in his body. He closed the distance and crushed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

His right hand tangled in your hair, keeping you close as he devoured your mouth with a need you’d never seen before. His other hand was on your hip, pushing you down onto the couch.

He climbed on top of you, his mouth continuing to taste yours as his hands roamed freely over your body, finally finding your breasts. He kneaded your soft flesh, taking your clothed nipple between his fingers and pinching it softly, making you gasp. His touch was everything you had imagined: rough, passionate, and masculine.

You broke the kiss just when your lungs gave out. If you were wet before, you were soaked now, tugging off his shirt, revealing his toned body.

“Holy fuck, it should be a crime to hide all of this under a shirt,” you muttered, breathless as your hands explored his muscular chest and stomach.

He would’ve laughed, but he was too lost in the moment. His body trembled with pent-up desire and anticipation, which only worsened as he felt your hands over his body.

Joel moved back to your neck, kissing, licking, and nibbling at it with desperation. Then slowly began to move down your body, he wouldn’t let one part of you go without a touch or taste. He kissed your stomach, making you squirm, but you couldn’t move; his grip on your hips was tight. He only let go to move his hands to the waistband of your shorts, letting out a growl when he finally slid them down your legs—shorts and panties in one go—leaving you completely bare in front of him, spread out and just for him to do whatever he pleased.

Joel pushed your legs wide apart, making room for himself between them. His head was only inches away from your glistening center.

“Are you this fucking wet just from some kisses?” He looked up at your face, noticing the utter desperation in your eyes, almost begging him to do something, anything, to take the ache away from between your legs.

He let out a low laugh as he moved his face closer, his tongue darting out to take a lick of your dripping slit. Joel grunted softly, he was sure that if heaven had a taste, it’d taste just like this. His tongue circled your clit with experienced precision, and you couldn’t help the loud whimper that left your lips.

He stopped his ministrations for a second. His warm breath against you.

“Like that, darlin’? Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, this pussy… fuckin’ sweet.” He didn’t give you time to answer as he went right back to work, his tongue moving faster through your folds, drawing delicious circles around your puffed clit as his hand gripped your hips, anchoring you in place and making sure you’d be all bruised tomorrow.

You looked down to see his head buried in between your thighs. He was eating you out like a starved man, like you were the first meal he’d eaten in days, and you could feel how much he was enjoying it, how much he was getting off from your pleasure. Joel had to buckle his hips against the couch trying to find some relief for his aching cock, but hearing you moan and whimper only made him want you more, and so his tongue began to push inside your entrance, deep and slow.

“Oh Joel, yes… yes… don’t stop—just like that.” You cried out, your hand tugging at his hair, trying to hold onto something as he fucked you with his tongue.

It only took a couple more minutes before you let out a loud whimper, cumming around his tongue. He felt it, your spasms, the way your walls clenched around him, and he kept going to help you ride out your orgasm, pulling away only after he had slurped the last of your delicious juices.

You tried to regain your breath after that intense experience, but you got only more turned on as you saw Joel wiping your fluids from his chin and mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh my God… who taught you how to eat pussy like that?” you asked him, half-joking, half-serious.

He laughed softly, his hands roaming over your body, over your thighs, stomach, breasts, squeezing the flesh softly. “Years of experience.” He murmured, leaning closer to your face. “But yours is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

Joel kissed you once again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, only fueling your desire for him—if it was possible to desire him even more.

“Darlin’, I gotta have you… I need to be inside o’you,” he muttered, his voice was a silent plea.

“Yes… God—yes, Joel, please,” you whimpered pathetically, and your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, feeling the thick shape of him through his jeans.

He grunted, removing your trembling hands with more urgency. He undid his pants himself with impatience, tugging them down just enough to free his cock You looked down, and your jaw dropped. That was a gorgeous cock if you ever saw one—big, thick, pushing up against his stomach, the tip glistening with a bead of precum.

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you breathed out.

“Do you want it?” He pumped his throbbing cock with one hand, feeling like it might explode right now.

“Please, Joel… I need it so much.”

With one hand, he spread your legs wider, and with the other, he took the shaft and guided the tip of his cock right on your wet cunt, dragging it teasingly slow to gather all your slick before positioning it on your entrance.

He took a slow breath to steady himself before finally pushing inside, only one big and deep thrust that made you see stars. You whimpered loud, your body shivering as you felt the way he was stretching you open. He gave you one second to adjust to his size before he pulled all the way back, just to slam into you harder this time.

He was so big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with before, it stung for a moment, but the pleasure swallowed the pain whole.

“Holy fuck, how are you this tight?” he groaned as he squeezed his eyes closed just for a second so he wouldn’t lose it. “I swear this cunt was made f’me… Made to take this cock.”

Joel began to move, his pace completely relentless and unforgiving, each thrust, each roll of his hips, making him go deeper inside of you. His hands kept moving all over your body, gripping you like he needed to brand every inch of you as his.

“Oh Joel… feels so good,” you said between moans. “Please don’t stop… keep going… harder.”

His hands moved to the back of your thighs and maneuvered your legs so they were hooked over his shoulders, this new angle allowing him to dive deeper into you—so deep you could feel him pressing against your cervix, and your moans became cries of pure pleasure.

You’d never seen a man in such a state, so completely animalistic, possessed, in the way he moved, almost violently, and in the sounds he let out of his mouth: growls and groans proper of a wild animal.

“Cum for me… need to feel you cum on my cock,” he almost begged with his ragged voice. “Need to feel that pretty pussy squeezing me so tight.”

Joel’s hand made its way in between your bodies, and his thick fingers found your bundle of nerves, tracing hard circles around it, the pace of his thrusts never slowing. You felt the tears in your eyes, completely overstimulated by his cock and fingers both working in unison to get you there again.

“I’m—oh Joel… I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” you sobbed, tears falling down your cheeks. Joel felt the way you clenched around his cock as you came, and it was the most delightful sensation he’d ever experienced. He felt his own climax approaching. He wasn’t even sure how he managed to last so long when you felt so incredibly good—he definitely deserved a prize for that.

“Holy shit, darlin’… feels so good cumming for me like that.”

God knows there was nothing he wanted more in this moment than to cum inside of you, painting your insides white and filling you up with his seed until it was dripping out of your cunt. But he knew he couldn’t. So, with the last ounce of self restraint he had left, he managed to pull out, his hand wrapping around his cock as he stroked it, one, two, three times, then he let out a groan that sounded like a wounded animal, and his cum shot out of him, hot and thick now coating your lower stomach in creamy white.

He stared at the sight, admiring his artwork for a second before he collapsed next to you on your couch, completely spent and feeling hazy after the intense pleasure he had experienced. His only thought in mind was how he wanted to do this again, and again, and again.

Joel buried his head in your neck, nuzzling it as he tried to calm himself down and catch his breath again. “You alright?” he asked, his soft voice contrasting with how intense it sounded before.

“I’m better than alright… shit… that was…” You struggled to find words that described how amazing it all felt, to finally have him after so much time of fantasizing about him—and realizing that he was even better than you had expected.

“I know,” he said on your neck, as if he was thinking the same things you were thinking. His hand roaming over your body, not with intense passion like before, but with a tender and soft touch to give you comfort after the intense moments of pleasure you both shared.

“How long was it since you last did this?” You knew you probably shouldn’t ask, especially since he was always so reserved, but it was a question that had been in your mind for a long time.

He sighed, and you could feel how his body tensed. Not because he struggled with being honest with you, but because the answer reminded him of how long he’d forced himself to be alone. He was quiet for a few moments. “A long time…”

You already assumed it had to be a long time. “Very specific, like always.”

He grunted, and you could notice he was slightly annoyed by your insistence. “It’s been… years,” he admitted. He’d had needs, sure, but the vulnerability of sex, the intimacy of it, was something he hadn’t allowed himself in a very long time. Not until you.

“And… did you enjoy it? Now, I mean—was it good for you?” Yes, you knew that he came, but after many years without having sex, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was what he expected.

He chuckled at your question, like you had asked the most stupid thing. He pulled you closer, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Course I enjoyed it. I’d have to be dead not to.”

“Good, ’cause I did too.” You smiled softly, your voice just barely above a whisper.

He held you tight against his body, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the feeling of you pressed against him and the warmth of your body. Wondering if this could be the beginning of something—if he could allow himself to love and be loved again.

Part 2 here

Join the tag list

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[burningdevotion]

best way to warm up

Joel Miller x fem!reader

summary: after spending the day out in the cold, Joel wants nothing more than to get back home to his girl. once he has you in his arms, you both agree to retire back to bed, so you can replace the shivers of cold with shivers of pleasure

a/n: this was my first time writing a proper fic for him and I ended up really enjoying it! theres just something about old man!Jackson!Joel that’s so... yeah. this is filth with a bit of plot <3 - (ca. 6k words)

warnings: big age gap (reader in her 20s, Joel close to 60), oral and fingering (r!receiving), brief hand and blowjob, unprotected p in v, praise, multiple orgasms, coming inside, cum eating, pet names, one singular use of "daddy", bf!Joel who goes hard in a loving way

Joel would never get used to the snow.

it didn’t matter how long he’d already lived in Jackson, it went the same way every year, him taking the cold as a personal attack on his summer-loving soul, cursing under his breath whenever his teeth chattered and the tip of his nose and ears turned red from the biting winds.

that particular day it was no different. a blizzard had swept through town a few days before and had left some damage on a few houses, which of course made people turn to your lover when they were looking for someone to help them fix it all up.

Joel was the resident handy man, along with a few other guys, and he wasn´t too happy about it, especially not once he got older and had a pretty girl waiting at home who he´d rather give all his energy to, since waking up sore from tending to you was pleasant, whereas waking up sore from work... not so much.

you had to push him out of the door that morning while he regretted being that skilled at home renovations, to which you just said “come on, show them how strong you still are compared to all the men here who are half your age” which gave him just the right amount of pride and spite to go out there and be a dutiful neighbor while flexing his skills in front of guys who´d tried their luck with you before, smug whenever they struggled to lift as much as he did, thinking about the countless times he´d used his strength for your pleasure, shooting daggers at them whenever they dared to ask him about you.

while he was out being helpful, you spent your day gathering wood for your fireplace and stoked the flames until they were intense enough to make the house feel cozy again. you cooked a hearty soup and left it to simmer on the stove, so you could share a nice dinner later on, taking your time with it, picking all the right herbs. just as you got done cleaning the kitchen, you heard the front door slam shut, followed by Joel kicking off his boots anf letting out a few foul words that made you smile to yourself.

his grumpiness always amused you, his blatant inability to keep his grievances to himself, to put on a convincing poker face - which had gotten him in trouble more than once - because it held no threat of true aggression, Joel was not an angry man, at least not with you, never with you, not over his dead body - one touch, one word from you was always enough turn him into a man about as tender as they come.

you´d managed to soften his tired spirit like a rough stone that got smoothed down over time, just as tough as before, but less prickly, less irritable, more at peace, and he worshipped you for it, the patience that you´d shown him when he had felt so undeserving of it, after everything he´d done, all the pain he’d caused. you both gave each other the kind of solace you never dared to hope for, especially during the darkest nights of the year, savoring the evenings spent cocooned in a glow of love on the couch, clinging to each other while the outside world was covered in ice. 

he came into the kitchen looking all gruff and flushed and achingly handsome, snow melting in his graying hair and beard, dressed in those jeans that fit him just right and a white shirt with a flannel on top, an appreciative long glance from you over his figure that matched his as he spotted you and rushed over. “hey baby” you cooed, smiling at him, “hey there.” he said, still a bit irritated by the whole ordeal outside, but glad to be home at last. “you´re freezing hm?” you asked and beckoned him closer, so he pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you while uttering “like a damn icicle, darling” shivering a bit as he buried his face in your neck and breathed in your familiar scent, his heartbeat slowing immediately, a tight grip on you as he soaked up your heat.

you mirrored his gesture and held him close, rested your head against his shoulder, caressed him up and down his back which made him hum in approval. “poor thing, gotta get you warmed up. what do you need? some coffee, a bath? both maybe?”.

“you” he murmured against your skin, eliciting goosebumps. “right now, all I need is you”, the words barely audible as he started trailing feathery light kisses up your neck, your pulse point, your jaw, your cheek, making you sigh and shut your eyes, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt to hold onto something, a smile as he took the sign to continue and gave the sensitive spot below your ear little licks and kisses, lavishing you with affection.

you let out a faint moan as he did this, your arousal stirred not just by his lips but the way he smelled, so fresh and crisp from the ice-cold air, musky and sweet from his own natural scent, leathery and woody from his jacket and the fire smoke he´d been around, a mix that was so deeply addictive to you.

without warning, he gripped your sides and lifted you onto the countertop, so you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, as close as possible, hands on his neck, increasingly turned on, his own hands on your shoulders as he leaned in to whisper “thought of you the entire time I was out there, sweetheart…what I´d have done if I´d stayed in bed with you all mornin” his voice all low and husky as he said it, his breath tickling your ear, his thumbs kneading away the tension in your muscles.

“god..” was all you could respond, your voice all strained from the lust that was slowly spreading through you, pooling at your core, so he didn´t waste any time and leaned in, cupped your face and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, teasingly licking over your bottom lip before you opened your mouth and made him turn the kiss into something more perverse and charged, making out in a way that would´ve been highly inappropriate in public, his hips moving forward in a way that made you feel it: that he was already straining against his jeans. a strangled moan escaped you as his clothed groin pressed against yours, already wet and waiting for him.

in the middle of kissing you, he pushed his hands under your shirt and heard you gasp into his mouth as he cupped your tits, his large, cold palms right over the swell of your breasts, squeezing, feeling you up, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples to soothe them, circling motions that made you moan louder than you intended and lean back in a way that nearly made you knock a jar to the floor, which didn´t deter him, at all, still pressing against your sensitive area, groping you, as he used your position to his advantage and sucked on your exposed throat, heard those little whimpers that drove him wild every damn time.

eventually, you pulled back, out of breath, and sighed “want me to help you get hot all over, hm?”, staring into his eyes with a kind of desire that rivaled even the brightest fire while un-buttoning the top of his flannel, so he skipped the talking and only gave a gravely sound in response as he lifted you up, your legs already where he needed them, carrying you up the stairs, your arms wrapped around his neck, your lips ghosting over his cheek as he reveled in the feeling of being strong enough to carry you over the threshold bridal style, which gave him the brief fantasy of making you his wife, slipping a lacy gown off your frame, pulling garter belt down your leg with his teeth.

the moment he laid you down on the bed, he hurried with getting his shirt and undershirt off, his jeans too, unbuckling his belt in a way that made you want him even more. he needed, he craved the body-to body feel, and the vision of him right then was like a wolf who´d roamed through miles and miles of snow and finally found something to sink his teeth into: impatient, greedy, salivating at the thought.

you pulled your shirt off too as he was already crawling over to you and told you “good girl, now lift your hips for me”, so you obeyed and tossed your top to the floor and helped him shimmy down your jeans, which left you in nothing but thin cotton panties, which drove him wild when he saw the dampness at the center, a brief brush of his fingers over it that made you twitch before his eyes fell to your chest, which made him pounce on you.

within seconds he was palming your left tit as he put his mouth to the other, switching between sucking and licking motions that made you squirm and whimper under him, the tip of his tongue flicking over your nipple before he put it between his lips and suckled on you like he was trying to get milk, so eager, so hungry, so lost in your softness, his knee purposely pressed up between your thighs, creating friction at your core that left you soaked and desperate for more. with a wet popping sound he finally let go but didn´t give himself or you time to catch your breaths, instead pinning your arms to the side, gently but firmly, while placing his mouth between your tits, then your sternum, moving down all the way to your lower stomach while leaving a trail of wet kisses. once he reached the waistband of your panties he paused and left few love bites until he looked up to see you all undone from his impact already, confessing to you “god I can´t take it… you´re too beautiful baby… too soft and delicious… need you all over my mouth, right now”.

before you could say anything, he ripped down your panties and praised “hmm, yeah, nice and open for me” as you parted your legs wider for him so he could settle between them, his kissing from before continuing all the way up your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the tender skin here and there. Joel needed you to a point where he almost humped the mattress, his cock throbbing just from a bit of foreplay, the way it always did, matching the utter sensitivity on your part that made you sound like he was already fucking you, when he hadn´t even reached the apex of your thighs yet. 

before he could taste you, he reached up and played with your pussy a bit, rubbing your clit with his middle and ring finger in circles as he heard you whine so beautifully for him, your eyes cast down, propped up on your arms, so you could get a good look at the way he savored the feel and sight of your slick folds, your swollen clit, pussy-whipped already, rubbing you so softly that it almost felt more shameless and filthy than if he´d jerked you off with force.

when he felt you losing your composure even more and heard a sweet little “baby…” tumbling from your lips, urging him to get to it, he gave a light slap of his hand against your needy pussy that made you wince not from pain but the bolt of pleasure, a devilish smile shot in your direction before he finally wrapped his big arms around your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth, buried himself in you, groaned like an animal as your cunt enveloped his nose and mouth, drowned out all previous worries, left him feeling like he was the luckiest man on planet earth, never ever getting used to your velvety, salty juices that could sustain him through the harshest winter, bring him back to life each time he got a taste of you.

you fell back against the pillows and mewled as he started eating you out, lapped at your cunt in broad, self-indulgent strokes, diving between your folds like a man starved, your slick heat healing his previously frozen up skin as he moved his face up and down to gather up every last drop, drenched in your fluids within no time, the way he needed and wanted it, all the time, sometimes spending entire evenings between your legs like that.

Joel made out with your pussy while you moaned and rocked your hips up to chase his mouth, whining to him about how good it felt, so he pushed you further and slipped a finger into you, no resistance, your cunt greedily taking it in, pleasure noises flowing from between his glistening lips as he pulled back to watch it, “yes, yes.. more” you cried, so he quickly pushed in a second finer and curled them up just right to hit your sweet spot over and over, adding his tongue again once you sounded like you might finish soon, sucking on your clit hard enough to make you see stars as his big fingers pumped in and out of you, got you read for something bigger, your walls throbbing around his knuckles, your back arching up, as the first orgasm hit you like lightning and made you shake and cry out, fully drenching his fingers as you rode it out while he kept his lips firmly suctioned to your clit, his free arm holding you in place as he soaked up the feeling of having you come all over his tongue and hand. 

as you laid there all flushed and riled up, he put his fingers between his lips and licked your cum off while uttering “divine.. like honey…”, keeping eye-contact with you in a way that made you breathe even heavier than before. the sight of you splayed out for him like that, so gorgeous and dripping and clearly in need of more of his service, it made him adore you so fiercely and need you so badly that he frantically pulled down his boxers and tossed them to where your underwear was already crumpled on the floor, his hardness springing free in a way that made him take a sharp breath in and stroke himself as he came over to you and saw your eyes turn down to where he was touching himself, clearly turned on by how rock hard he was, pre-cum leaking out of his tip, his big strong thighs and hairy chest and broad shoulders only driving you even wilder in combination with that view, his stature looming over you in the most dizzying way. “been like this all afternoon…” he groaned  “just from thinkin of you”. 

before he could protest, you sat up, spat into your palm, and reached forward to replace his hand with yours, his head falling back as he felt your palm close around his length, rubbing up and down, slicking him up as an almost pained “ohhh hmppff fuck” escaped him while he gripped your arm for support, bucked up into your grip without thinking, groaned like an animal as you just smiled all sweet and and kept stroking him, savoring the feel of him in your hand like that, aroused and throbbing for you, whispering to him “need this cock in me, baby”.

“yeah? need it right now?” he moaned and felt you going a bit faster to really tease him, so he slipped his thumb into your mouth in retaliation, felt you suck on it, his eyes dark and half-lidded then as you jerked him off and licked all over his finger, until you let go of both at once and leaned back, nodding and saying “hmm yeah, need you deep inside me” emphasis on the “deep”, your eyes never leaving his as you spread your thighs wide enough for him to see your cunt spread open and pulsating for him, inviting him in, so he lunged forward and whispered “oh youre really asking for it now, darlin…” and pushed you back onto the pillows.

you let out a squeal as Joel roughly put you into the position he needed you in, hovering over you, and went on to slide his tip over your wetness, teasing, slapping his cock onto your cunt a few times to watch you turn weak and helpless again, until he guided himself to your entrance and let go of his cock, put his hands by the sides of your face, stared down into your eyes and then kissed your neck right as he pushed himself into you, slowly for the first inches, and then all the way, one swift push, balls deep, no holding back anymore, your pussy aching in relief the moment he bottomed out and had you nice and full again. 

your heat and wetness overwhelmed him as he felt it all, a broken-up “Christ..” as he let you adjust to his size and held your gaze, both of you staring into each other´s soul´s with parted lips, hitched breaths, that delicious moment whenever he first entered you, his palm reaching up to caress you, soothe you, as you matched his low, rumbling sounds with a higher-pitched moan, your pussy stretching around his girth in just the right way, his hardness buried deep inside of you, the ache at your core suddenly pleasurable instead of maddening, a burning need to have him deepen that ache until you couldn´t take anymore, which he sensed, so he moved his hands to grip yours and pin them against the mattress as he slowly started moving in you as the scruff of his beard tickled your neck just right, his moans and kisses covering the skin right above your shoulder as you wrapped your legs around his waist and trapped him in the best way.

you ran your nails down his spine and felt him give you the most dizzying slow, yet hard, deep strokes, so you could feel every single thrust in its entirety, a whimper with each one, throbbing around him as you whined “yes…yes”, so he lifted his head a bit and breathed against your cheek “hmm yeah? like that, baby?”, a weak “hmm” and nod from you in response as you felt him go in and out of you, your pussy relaxed and soaking wet by then, both of you whispering sweet nothings to each other as he picked up the pace, unable to keep his desire contained any longer, his hands leaving yours then so he could brace himself better as he fucked you the way he wanted, intense, hard, and yet so loving, radiating such adoration with each push of his hips, his groans turning louder and more pornographic by the second, a mix of “ohh” and “ughh” sounds rising out of his depths as he got lost in you, the way you looked right then, all flushed and and pretty in your lust-induced haze, head pushed back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut from that deep pleasure that was starting to possess every little inch of your body, his strokes steady and skilled, his lips suddenly on yours so he could drink up all of your moans and whimpers, kissing you softly as he fucked you intensely, a contrast that drove you wild as you gripped his big arms and held on. 

you loved that he was big but not to a point where it hurt, his cock just girthy enough for you to have to adjust to it a bit at first every time, a mild kind of pain that was more thrilling than punishing, a perfect size and feel for you, the flesh of his length still slightly soft even when he was hard, ideal to a point where you became obsessed with it, sometimes having him fuck you on the couch in the middle of the day, just to feel him for a few minutes, or riding him on a chair in the kitchen, or if things got really heated making him take you inside other people´s bathrooms, one time even fully out in public, at night, too eager for him to fuck you to wait til you were home. Joel loved it. every time. how eager you were for him, the delicious build-up to it, the way you always made him feel like the most virile, desirable man who ever lived just by batting your eyelashes at him and nudging his leg to say “come here, take me, please.”

right then it was no different as he was fucking you into the mattress with determination until he lifted himself up onto his knees and quickly pushed your leg up into an angle that allowed him to really rail the fuck out of you, your back arching up as went as deep as possible then, fast and hard without ever neglecting your comfort, your need, your level of arousal, keeping a close eye on your body, the little tells that gave away how good it felt for you as he kept going and going, praising you, watching you twist your head to the side and bite your lip, groaning “goddd this pussys gonna ruin me one day… feel too fuckin good around me, baby...” and right then he hit the exact right spot, so you whimpered pathetically and stared up at him while moaning  “fuck right there, yes” your insides twisted in pleasure, threatening to burst within the next few minutes.

“yeah? right here? this the spot, sugar?” he asked, not actually needing an answer, only saying it to turn you on even more as he kept the exact pace he was going at and hit you deep inside, over and over, your muscles coiled tight, lewd wet sounds echoing through the room, his body looking all godly and manly like that, taking you as if he wasn´t pushing sixty at all, an ease and power to his movements that made you lose your mind completely.

just as you were bracing yourself for your impending climax, Joel reached down and added his thumb to the mix and oh. you were done for. the way he circled your clit right then.. the way he rubbed over your sensitive bundle of nerves.. it made you choke up for a second. “ohhh fuck baby, oh” you cried out, begging for mercy as he kept fucking and touching you just the right way, admiring the sight of you all sexy and primal in that state of pre-release, drunk on the power to please you that way.

“there you go.. look at you.. gorgeous girl..” he cooed as you begged “don´t stop, just like that, fuck”, so he assured you “shhh, you´re doin so well, takin me so damn well, baby” sweating by then, his scent only messing with you even more, that animalistic, intimate smell of his that always ruined you, Joel rutting into you with the need to see you lose yourself, which you were about to, your pussy leaking all over his cock as you moaned “I´m coming, I´m-” your words silenced by the orgasm that started to hit you, your whole body tensed up, your voice drowned out, right at the peak then, so he leaned forward during his relentless fucking and groaned “I´ve got you, I´ve got you baby girl, just let go for me”, and with that you did, unclenching every muscle at once, suddenly flooded by pleasure, crying out and shaking as he held you in place by your hips, caressed your sides, and slowed down bit by bit, let you ride it out, while uttering “hmm, good girl, such a good girl…”.

as you laid there catching your breath and twitching, he slowly moved his cock out and stroked it in a way that kept him riled up enough to keep going without coming too fast. he wanted to hold out, desperately, he needed more of you, and the second you had enough strength again, you moved your trembling body over to him, kneeled on the bed, and leaned down to lick his tip for him, nudging his hand away and replacing it with your own as you drooled all over his length and licked up the side of the shaft back up to the top, circled his tip, tasted yourself on him, and finally took him into your mouth, not all the way, but enough to make him moan “oh.. youre killin me” while he caressed your hair and watching in awe as you greedily sucked him off. he couldnt help but grunt and buck up a bit, trying his best not to choke or gag you, but so damn sensitive to your pretty mouth wrapped around him like that, a pained “goddammit” leaving him as you sucked his dick until he couldn´t take any more. before he could cum in your mouth, he peeled you off and grabbed you to get you where he wanted you, panting, desperate, hard as a rock.

Joel gave your leg a loving squeeze and told you “come here baby, come lay on your side for me, nice and comfortable, right here” maneuvering you into the position he was aiming for as he laid down behind you and watched you lift your own leg up, knowing what he wanted to do to you. “that´s it, perfect” he whispered as his arm slipped under your side and wrapped around your front, over your tits, to hold you flush against his chest, so strong and warm and comforting as he did it, his face right by your neck, a soft kiss as he settled in his big spoon position and groaned from the desire to dive back into your heat already. 

you needed it too, badly, your pussy twitching around the emptiness, so you moved your free hand down to guide his cock back into yourself, both him and you watching your lower half as he slipped right back in, both of you so sensitive and raw by then that he shuddered as you swallowed him up again while you let out a faint “ohh… oh” and pressed yourself back up against him to feel his entire body pressed against yours, your eyes shut as he kept his arm wrapped around your front and kissed your shoulder, your neck, groaned and bit down lightly as he picked up a pace and started fucking you from the side, possessive and protective at the same time the way he thrust himself into you with increasing passion while holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, which to him, you were, always and forever.

the sensation of being filled over and over from that lazy angle did something to you, made you surrender and lay in his arms all docile and sweet, which got him good: the way you trusted him, moaned for him, let him take you like that, so he fucked you a bit faster and rougher while peppering gentle kisses over the slope of your shoulder, slapping sounds filling the room as he kept going, his cock nice and deep inside you, so good that you were overcome by love and twisted your head back a bit to chase his lips and kiss him, your tongue in his mouth as you struggled to kiss him properly but tried your best amidst the frenzied fucking, his heart beating faster not just from the way you felt on him but the adoration he saw mirrored in your eyes as you briefly looked at him, all dazed and fucked out, so perfect, so angelic for him, his girl, all his, another deep, sloppy kiss from him as you whimpered to him about how good his cock felt, his own affection for you ruining him then as he whispered “this pussy was made to be worshipped by me, this body, all of it” which got you good, clenching around him so hard that he groaned “oh god hmmm” and tightened his grip on you, slamming into you as you submitted to it and got fucked into a blissful oblivion while he was right behind you, steading you, warming you, the neighbors down the street probably well aware of what was going on by then, your cries too loud to be drowned out by wooden walls, which made you feel even more aroused: that smug feeling of spending the afternoon getting your brains fucked out instead of doing anything to prove how dutiful you were, sinfully self-induldent in the best way. 

the softness of the cuddle-fucking somehow got you wet to a degree that was so intense that each thrust made a squelching sound, filthy and nasty and just how he loved it, his finger back on your clit as he briefly slowed down and moaned “fuckkk gonna make me cum baby” less intense strokes then, a brief pause to draw the sex out longer, he refused to cum, needed a few more minutes, so you gave in and savored the sensual, romantic feel of having his cock slide in and out your mess without much force, which held its own intense pleasure, an ease to it that turned you on, made you push your ass back against him and whine “ohhh… oh yes please” so he kept going like that for a while as you made out in a way you couldn´t before, catching your breaths a bit until the went faster again and braced himself for his orgasm, but before he could finish like that, you had the urge to change positions once more to really get fucked hard for your next orgasm.

you mumbled “baby I need-” and trailed off as you freed yourself from his grip and pushed him onto his back to get up and straddle him, your cunt slipping over his thigh for a moment, a grinding motion as he held his length and nodded “yeah darlin, take just what you need, drench my lap, lemme see”, a few more desperate rocking motions of your hips against the muscle of his leg, leaving a glistening trail of your cum once you got up and aligned yourself with him and sat down on it, sighing in relief once you felt him all the way in again and started riding him. you were too weak to really bounce on it, to give him the whole fantasy, but frantic and needy enough to give him a perfect view of your tits bouncing as you slid up and down his cock and saw him lean back against the heaboard, watching in awe, his hands on your sides as he supported and guided you, eager to tease another high out of you before his own would leave him wrecked for good, marveling at you on top of him looking like a goddess.

after a moment, he ordered “come down here” and made you lay chest to chest, wrapped both of his strong arms around your back, and held onto you tightly as he said “just relax for me now baby, okay?”, so you braced yourself, aware of what he was gonna do, and muffled your cries against his shoulder as he slammed up into you from below, over and over and over, truly ruining you, giving you a final round of achingly deep, aggressive thrusts that left you helpless on him - you didn´t have to do a single thing but take it all and stop resisting the overwhelming feeling that was about to unravel you, body and soul. you held on for dear life as he moaned that he was getting close, so you begged “come in me, please baby, please”, so he groaned “yeah? want me to fill you up?”, which made you insist “yes daddy… please”.

the word slipped out. it wasn´t on purpose. and that was what killed him. the innocent, fully instinctual way you uttered it, the word "daddy" going right to his head and heart and groin all at once as he grunted “jesus baby.. gonna make you mine now, gonna fill you all the way up”, his movements stopping all at once as he kept himself all the way inside you after last thrust and released his cum, shaking and twitching as he felt himself leaking and heard you moan in relief as you came right at the same time from the heavenly warm sensation of having him claim you that way, a decent amount of his juices splurting out until he was empty and shuddered one last time before he went as slack as you were by then, his arms still around you, keeping you safe, always.

for a moment, you just laid there like that, inseparable, entwined, panting and sweating, lost in the haze of your shared orgasm, until you peeled yourself off and flopped down on your belly on the empty side of the bed.

Joel moved and told you “lift that pretty peach a bit for me, baby” so you smiled against the pillow and did as he said, arching your butt up a bit as you felt him press a few kisses against your backside before he leaned in and did something that almost made you black out during your intense afterglow: he lapped up his own cum where it was leaking out of you and gently ate you out from the back.

another man might’ve just gotten a towel but not him. Joel wanted to make sure that he was cleaning up the mess he´d made of you, while also using the excuse to spread your cheeks open and lick all the way from your puffy lips to right below your hole, teasing you, feeling you wiggle a bit in response. Joel was a tits man the same way he was an ass man, so he shamelessly ate you up and kissed the plump flesh as you laid there on your stomach, blissed out, enjoying your man´s lack of shame when it came to his desires - whenever he came on you or in you, it was an excuse for him to keep going for a little bit longer: if he came on your tits it was an excuse to suck on them again, if he came in your mouth it made him tongue kiss you again, if he came inside of you it was a way to make himself get a final taste of you. eventually, his primal energy left him and made him slump down next to you, your pussy nice and soothed by his soft tongue after all the fucking before.

you both laid there, spent, satisfied, quiet, his hand resting on your thigh, leaving you some space to calm down as he did the same, until you turned over and snuggled up to him, your head on his chest, his arm around your back again, a dazed smile on Joels face as you nuzzled up to him like that and asked “you all warm again now?”.

“hmm, you know just how to get me hot and bothered.. my pretty lil sunshine” he whispered and pulled your hand up to kiss each of your knuckles, adoration radiation from him in a way that almost made you shed a few tears when he briefly pressed your fingers against his cheek after that tender gesture, his eyes closed, a shuddering breath out that told you his level of comfort and happiness matched yours.

“needed this so bad...might´ve died without it, I swear” he mused and gazed down at you while he caressed you, traced your side, marveled at how silky smooth you were, drawing idle patterns right above your hip .“dont know how I survived the winters before you” he admitted, both to you and himself.

you turned your head to look up and smiled at him, “you wish you could keep me in here and just hibernate through the winter, don´t you, old man?”.

“excuse me, ma´am?” he asked, exaggerating his shock for effect, giving you a playful squeeze in response. “oh, I´ll show you old, you´re in for it next time, little lady, just you wait.”. 

“oh no, how will I manage?” you exclaimed, clearly not scared but very pleased by that threat, a barely suppressed smile on his face as you draped your leg over his and laid on him all boneless and smiley. 

it was a game you two liked to play: you making a remark about his advanced age, compared to yours, so he could willingly walk into that trap and prove himself to you, which always got you what you wanted, for example, one time when you made a comment about his knees being too weak when he got down in front of your chair after breakfast to give you head, which ended in him keeping you pinned to that chair until you´d come three times and had drenched his whole mouth, begging for him to go easy on you by the end, which had made him pull his head away, wipe his mouth all smug like “yeah, I think my knees work just fine, thanks for the concern though, baby”.

“such a tease” he said then, as he splayed his palm over your lower back and felt the heat there. “only for you” you murmured against his stomach, almost dozing off for a second there. “hmm damn right, all mine.. all mine..” he whispered in awe as he watched you, felt your weight on his body, thanked whichever version of God he was still capable of believing in that you´d been sent his way, that he got to have you like that, all to himself, throughout the harshest winters he´d ever known, his own personal sun, his source of light, his everything.

after ten more minutes of peaceful silence, he said “I´ll take that bath now, I think. only if you join, that is”. you got up and sat on the bed, caressed his arm and said “if you´re gonna wash my hair for me, then yes” giving him doe-eyes and rubbing his shoulder, which made him laugh “always, anything you need, princess. five more minutes though”. the last part was mumbled as he pulled you in, so you could sit on his legs and rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“ten.” you countered. “deal..” he whispered and rested his chin on your shoulder, eyes closed, relaxed, content, both of you melting into each other.

by that point it had started snowing again but you were blissfully unaware, not a care in the world about how cold it would be in the coming days or weeks or months until it would finally turn milder again, since you knew: we´ll keep each other warm. we´ll always come home to this. this endless source of life-affirming heat.

[covetyou]

solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k  summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are. 

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat. 

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."  

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-" 

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

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[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

-> part. ii here!

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation – the Outing

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

summary: Reader hasn't left Joel's side since they spent the night together. When he brings her to the Tipsy Bison days later, Tommy is pissed, and people stare at them. It should bother Joel, but it has the opposite effect. warnings: girthy juicy age gap (20 & late 50s), daddy kink (duh), overstimulation, forced orgasm (kinda sorta, consent is enthusiastic the whole time), breeding kink, praise kink, Joel calls reader “kid” or “kiddo”, dacryphilia, Joel gets off on people seeing them together, reader is really sweet

note: this Joel has me so weak in the knees I actually need to either be locked up or put down like a dog. Position inspired by that Narcos scene. You know the one. Enjoy!

For a man who likes to keep to himself, Joel sure doesn’t mind all the eyes glued to him – to you, your little hand clutching his, your torso drowning in one of Joel’s pullovers, his scent lingering all over you like some sort of sick perfume. They know what he did to you. What he will continue to do, once you’re back at his place. He took you there after your first day together at your place, because your house is still so empty – you haven’t been in Jackson long. Joel’s home smells like you now, and neither of you could come up with a good enough reason for you to go back to your place, when it’s so quiet and empty and Joel-less.

So he washed your clothes for you in the tub while you were sleeping, all fucked out, limp, and naked in his soiled sheets. This way you wouldn’t even have to go home to pick up new clothes, not for a while at least. He wouldn’t want you to be cold, though, so he gave you one of his knit sweaters to wear over your dress, and a heavy brown leather jacket. They are way too big on you of course, but for some reason they fit. Not physically, but it looks so right, you in his clothes, your hand in his, your hair still a little tangled in the back from where his hand buried itself when he kissed you right before leaving.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even keen on going to the Tipsy Bison. Hell, he went without a drink for four days and he didn’t mind a bit, your pliant body under his a pleasant distraction from all he tried to drown in whiskey. No, not a distraction – a cure. That’s what it felt like when he heard your voice, when he smelled your sweat and sweet perfume and felt you clench around him.

So no, he doesn’t mind people looking. You and him – it’s unusual, he knows that, knows how much of a pervert it makes him, but you moaned so sweetly for him, begged so politely, wanted him so bad. Unusual is the word for it, unusually good. You don’t seem to be very nervous, which validates him further. You feel safe in his hands, as safe as you did when you asked him to walk you home that first night, and if you don’t mind the looks people are giving you, he sure as hell can put up with them.

"Your friends here?"

You like to play cards in the evenings, he knows, and even though he’d rather sit down at the bar and pull you onto his lap, he’d be happy to leave you to it if it’s what you want.

"They’re on patrol, I think," you answer, eyes glued to his as the door of the bar slams shut behind you two, effectively blocking out the cold. "What day is it again?"

Jesus Christ, you don’t even know the fucking day, all perception of time lost to your endless naps after Joel made you come in various ways over the last couple of days. He feels that insatiable fire in his loins start again, even though he’s already fucked you two times today. Either you’re supplying him with the best cardio of his life, or he’ll die of heart failure any day now.

Before he can tell you the day, he feels a hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly drags his eyes away from your pretty face. He likes when it’s flushed, from the cold or from sex, he isn’t picky.

"Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Joel?"

 Of course it’s Tommy. He saw right through Joel the first time he caught him watching you from across the bar, and came over to your place as soon as he figured out where his brother was.

Tommy’s angry face, the curses on his lips, the way his fist banged against the door frame. 

Joel, she’s twenty fuckin’ years old. There are plenty of women who’d be happy to keep you company. Just send her home, alright? She’s been in Jackson for like a minute, she doesn’t need you complicating things for her. 

But just before Tommy knocked, hadn’t you seemed so ecstatic in Joel’s arms, your body entirely relaxed? 

She’s an adult, Tommy, ’n it’s what she wants.

He heard your bare feet on the floor, was glad Tommy couldn’t see you with the door only half open, because if he turned around to look at you right then, Joel was sure he would be able to see his spent dripping out of you and the marks his lips had left all over your neck.

"Look, Tommy, it’s like this: you think you have a say in this cause of Maria’s position in Jackson, but it’s got nothin’ to do with you. At all. So back off."

Joel’s voice is quiet, he doesn’t want to cause a scene. What he wants is to have a glass of whiskey, watch the look on every man’s face in Jackson when they realize you’re sweet on him, and then go home and fuck your lights out. By the way you won’t let go of his hand, he guesses you’re not opposed to that plan either.

So he ignores Tommy and helps you out of your jacket – his jacket – for which you reward him with one of your dazzlingly sweet smiles. He watches as you take off his pullover, too, and although it fills him with a sick pleasure to think of everybody seeing you in his clothes, he’s blessed with your naked shoulders and arms instead. Immediately, his hand finds your back, right below your neck, the spot that isn’t covered by your dress. If he’s not mistaken, you shudder under his touch. God, he wants to take you to the bathroom and really make you shudder, but he’s more than testing Tommy’s patience already. His brother is watching with a deep scowl on his face, dark brows pulled tight together.

You smile at Tommy when Joel walks you over to the bar, ever sweet to everyone around you, and it makes him weak for you. You’re everything he isn’t.

"The usual, Joel?", the barkeeper asks, his eyes widening when he spots your hand holding Joel’s, the marks on your neck he forgot to conceal for you. A scarf would have done the trick, but Jesus, he likes this physical proof of how often he’s had you stretched on his cock already. It’s near primitive how much he wants to defend his territory. For a second he wonders if the kid who pestered you the night he took you home is here, and almost snorts at the idea of you and him together. What made his blood boil that night, now seems like a joke. You didn’t want a twenty-five year old kid, you wanted Joel, Daddy, with his bad back and greying hair and popping joints. Too good to be true, but true nonetheless. 

You sit down at the bar and he joins you, nodding at the barkeeper. Your leg presses into his immediately. He understands your need to be close to him, he feels the same way, so he reaches out and drags your barstool closer to his, until he can feel your body heat even through his flannel. You fingers clutch at his knee, as if there’s no other option for you but to touch him when he’s this close. He lets you, revels in the fact that you would probably let him touch you however he wanted in return.

The barkeeper gets Joel his whiskey and you your usual – Joel smiles when he realizes you’re both creatures of habit – and you clink your glass to his.

"Cheers," he says with a smile, watching your eyes that remind him so much of Bambi, and you chuckle.

"Cheers, Daddy."

It comes naturally, and it makes something deep within him stir. He doesn’t think anyone heard, but he knows if Tommy somehow got wind of what you call him, the debauched name he drags from you with strokes of his cock or fingers, or just with a smile, well, he’d probably wring his neck. He knows he should tell you not to call him that in public, but you seem so happy to be here with Joel, any thoughts of chastising you are wiped from his mind.

"You look so pretty, baby, I forgot why we ever left the house," he mutters, making you blush and laugh lightly. His eyes follow your movement when you clench your thighs and he wants to groan. Whenever he thinks it’s sick how much, how often, he wants you, you want him right back, and any doubts shrivel up inside of him. He wishes he could take you here, make everyone watch how willing you are for him, and maybe then they’d understand that there was never another outcome than this one, maybe then he’d get you all to himself again, with nobody knocking on the door after he just pumped you full of his load. He thinks you might just let him, too.

Instead, he takes a sip of his whiskey. You’re quiet, and he wonders if you’re uncomfortable, but before he can ask, you lean up and catch his lips in a kiss. God, he should really put a stop to this before his brother has an aneurysm, but you taste so sweet. It’s just a peck, but it leaves him wanting more, and he wonders how quickly you two can get away with leaving again without making people talk more than they already will.

You’re here for a reason of course, something about keeping up appearances, though the details escape him with you fogging up his brain. But he can’t steal you away completely, or people will do more than whisper and point. A pretty girl like you, not leaving the house of an old man like him – it wouldn’t be received well, and you’ve been pushing it with the last couple of days already. So, a nice public outing, where everybody can see just how content you are, and then it’s back to Joel’s bedroom. He wonders for how long he can stop going on patrols before Tommy will threaten to throw him out of town.

"You know," he mutters, leaning down so he’s sure only you can hear him, "when we get home, you’re not wearing clothes for a week, baby. Already miss you naked."

You blush violently, but a satisfied smile curls your lips upward.

"I’ll get cold," you answer, half pouting. Joel wants to feel that pout with his thumb, but doesn’t dare.

"I’ll keep ya warm, don’t worry," he answers darkly, thoughts of your sweating, exhausted body flooding his brain. There are so many things he still hasn’t done to you, like letting you suck him off, or fucking you in his lap, your back pressed against his front. A million ways he could have you, will have you, and one by one they come to him as he watches you drink your drink in a bar full of people he knows.

It doesn’t take either of you long to finish your drinks, and Joel knows it’s stupid to leave so soon again, but he can see the way you’re subtly rubbing your thighs together, how your gaze drifts over his arms, his chest, his belly, and he really can’t leave his little girl hanging when she clearly needs him. He plans on making you say it, though he knows it can’t be here.

So the two of you leave after Joel pays, you’re out the door, jackets in hand, before Tommy can stop you. Joel will deal with him later, when he’s gotten this frenzy for you out of his system.

You’re needy, hands clutching his arm as you walk through the cold, and Joel can’t help himself, he puts an arm around you and rests his palm low on your hips, so low it makes you squirm. He strokes you there, teasing you when he knows you can’t do anything about it, and you whine for him, even though you’re in the middle of the street.

"Jesus, kid, pipe down or they’ll have my head," he mutters, and you do your best to stifle any sounds his hand coaxes out of you. Despite what he said, he doesn’t stop teasing until you’re at his doorstep, and he opens the door. He doesn’t waste time kissing you, just slams the door shut and guides you to the sofa, where you lie down on your back immediately.

"Fuck," Joel curses, "look at you, baby. Thought I was gonna have to fuck you right over that barstool, that's how sweet you look."

You moan and your hands grasp at his collar, opening the buttons one by one, trying to get him naked as quickly as possible.

"Needed you so bad, Daddy, and I couldn’t tell you," you admit almost timidly.

"Oh baby," Joel answers, helping you with the buttons, "If you need Daddy to get you off, you tell me and I’ll help you out, alright? We could’ve gone to the bathroom."

His shirt is off now, and starts pulling your dress over your head.

"They would’ve known what we were up to," you breathe, half naked under Joel’s big form, your breasts exposed now.

"Shit, kiddo, they knew already," Joel groans, opening his belt buckle, "'s all over your face how bad you want this cock, bathroom or no bathroom."

You blush at his words, watching him pull down his jeans and boxers with wide eyes, and he can almost taste your desire.

"Don’t worry, baby, I like how much you need it," Joel breathes, and finally kisses you, his practiced fingers finding your panties easily and dragging them down, your hips lifting from the couch to help him.

"Yeah," you breathe against his lips, "Need you all the time, Daddy."

Something in him snaps at this admission, because part of him expects you to run out on him any day, that you’ll snap out of whatever craze you’re in and realize fucking a man almost forty years your senior can’t possibly be what you want – but you never do. You just look at him the way you are now, all doe eyed and docile, like his every whim is your command. It shouldn’t turn him on the way it does, it really shouldn’t. A better man would send you home, a stronger man would admit Tommy is right, but Joel hasn’t been good since the end of the world began, and he’s tired of being strong, so his thick fingers find your clit and he watches in awe how your head falls back, your pretty eyes rolling upwards.

"Say that again, angel," he orders gently, fingers insistent and relentless, building the pressure in your tummy with practiced ease.

"I always need you, Daddy," you whimper, hips bucking on their own accord. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a sweet thing like you to bury himself into, to want his seed so badly you beg him for it, but he’s done questioning, and pumps his fist over his hard cock a couple of times, watching your face contorted in pleasure.

He aligns himself with your entrance, easing up on your aching clit, because he can sense your orgasm impending, and pushes into the tight heat of your body with a grunt. He stopped being careful several days ago, and although you yelp, your face splits into a satisfied smile when he fills you up, like you really have been waiting for it since the moment he pulled out of you this afternoon.

"Take my cock so well, baby," he mutters, and starts slamming into you. His pace isn’t punishing, but it’s fast and deep, after seeing you among other people, his need to stake his claim over you having grown. He wants to pump you full of his load, have it dripping out of you wherever you go, have it swelling up your belly and making it impossible for anyone to take you away from him. Surely, if you were pregnant, even Tommy would admit it’s best for you two to be together.

He fucks you into the mattress, hips snapping into yours, his belly nudging your body and the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit just right. There’s no need for you to move with him, not when his pace feels so good, when it builds that coil in your stomach so unrelentingly, and soon he can feel the way you flutter and clench, that telltale sign that you’re almost there. Normally he would make you wait for it, tell you to ask for Daddy’s permission, but you were so good at the bar, didn’t want to expose just how badly you needed his cock to stretch you out, so he plans on rewarding you. There’s certain benefits to his age, like the stamina he built over the last four decades.

"Daddy," you cry, your whole body rocking with the impact of his thrusts, and he chuckles.

"'S okay, angel, you let go whenever you want to, but I’m not near done with you."

His hands roam over your body, your pebbled nipples, the column of your throat, your waist. When he presses down on your stomach, feeling himself all the way inside of you, nudging against that spot only he seems to be able to reach, you tip your head back and gush around him, a trembling mess under his big body.

"Goood girl, there we go," he mutters, but doesn’t stop even when it starts to feel like it’s almost too much and your orgasm fades. You don’t ask him to stop either, though he would, if you did. No way he’d harm you, it’s just that you seem to enjoy a little hurt.

He hoists you up and slips out of you briefly, which draws a petulant whine from your throat.

"Easy, baby, just a second," he soothes, and sits you both up so that you’re on his lap, his belly pressed against your back, and his hot breath right at your ear. His voice is so close, it might as well be inside your head.

"There you go, you quit your whinin’," he drawls, and forces his cock back into you. His arms wrap around your torso, holding you to him completely, his hips snapping upwards forcefully, your whole body rocking against his with the impact.

His right hand comes up to your neck, clutching your hair, while his other hand grabs your tit, and you’re helpless to do anything but crane your neck and grasp his large hand with your little one. Your body is overstimulated from your first orgasm, but Joel doesn’t let up, and quickly, he can feel another one building inside of you by the way you clench, the way your cries become a little more breathy.

"Gonna give your Daddy another one, sweet girl? Gonna come on this cock again? Yeah, I think you will, think you’d come as many times as I tell you to," he huffs, the vibrations of his voice sparking goosebumps on your skin.

"Yes, D-daddy," you groan, "as much as you want."

"Go on then, kiddo, let me have it."

He thrusts up particularly hard, his big arms trapping you against his wide body, engulfing you, as you shudder and whine. When you’re done, you go limp against him, barely able to hold yourself up, but Joel’s arms hold you steady, and he mouths at your neck, sucking fresh bruises onto your skin. He marvels at the way you let him fuck you like this, even when you’re spent, and speeds up his thrusts.

"One more and you’re done," he tells you, and you shake your head against him.

"I can’t, Daddy, too much," you whine, but your core clenches and trembles, and Joel knows you have it in you.

"You can take it, baby, come on, one more for Daddy."

It takes a while, this time, your body spent, but Joel has no trouble holding off spilling his seed inside of you. If he really wanted to, he could probably make you come five times before he did himself, but he wants so badly to paint your insides with his load, to have it take and watch your belly swell. And anyway, he can just fuck you again in a couple of hours, if his age allows it. The past days, you woke up in the middle of the night and begged him for it.

"Need me to talk to you?", Joel asks, when you whine and splutter, but don’t come, and you nod frantically.

"Yes you do, angel, course you do. Just listen to Daddy’s voice, alright? Doin’ so well, takin’ everythin’ I give you."

His thrusts are slower now, but deeper, grazing your cervix, his hand still clutching your hair so that your throat is exposed.

"You’re really something, baby, lettin’ an old man like me fuck you like this," he rambles, not really sure why he’s bringing up his age when surely it will make you see sense, but if anything, your whines grow louder, like his age is turning you on.

"You like that? You like letting and old man fuck you full of his cum?"

Your sweet pussy flutters around him at the mention of him filling you up, and he almost comes. His jaw is slack, mouth bumping into your neck with every thrust.

"Not an old man, Daddy," you whimper, "just you."

Joel’s hips stutter for a moment, but he quickly regains control over his rhythm.

"That’s right, baby, only I get to cum inside of you," he groans, "You want it?"

You nod, a weak twitch of your head, and usually he’d make you use your words, but you’re limp and exhausted, so he decides to let it slide.

"Alright baby, you can have it as soon as you come again for Daddy."

He can feel you actually put an effort into it, the muscles in your stomach clenching and unclenching, and the idea of you wanting his load that bad makes him curse. He can feel your body tense, can hear the way your breathing grows shallow, and then you’re crying, a real sob tearing through your chest, as you come on his cock for the third time.

He wants to praise you for it, but he just keeps punching into you, feeling your hot tears drop onto his hand and making a sick satisfaction pool in his stomach, and then he’s clutching you to his body tightly, burying himself inside of you as deeply as possible, and white hot pleasure erupts behind his eyes as his cock twitches and coats your inside with his spent. He fucks it up into you, imagines the effect it might have if he does it often enough.

You’re weak in his arms when he pulls out of you, your eyes closed, and he gently lets the two of you sink into the couch, your legs automatically wrapping around his thigh. He can feel himself drip out of you. Next time he vows to let you sleep with his cock still inside of you, so that there’s no way you won’t fall pregnant.

"Good girl," he whispers into your hair, and even in your exhausted haze, you smile, mouth half slack. He tugs you close to him, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

Tommy is not right, he thinks, it cannot be wrong to feel as happy as he feels, as happy as you look, tucked against him and dripping onto his thigh.

[spidersoulss]

His Girl

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader, no out-break, Joel is in his 30’s and reader is in her late 20’s

Summary: You and Joel have been a thing in private, not wanting people, or more specifically your dad, to find out. Things have been going great…until a new neighbor rolls into town. 

Warnings: Angst, insecure reader, jealous reader, oblivious joel, eventual fluff

Word Count: 2,187

A/N: My first time writing some angst seriously, I hope I did justice. Thank you to Anon for requesting this! @disabilitymissunderstood hope you all enjoy!!

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You were cooling off in the backyard of your fathers house, dipping your feet in the inground pool with a drink in your hand. It was the middle of summer and your father wanted to throw a little get together cookout type thing. He invited half the neighborhood; your dad was quite popular in your little town. 

You recognized mostly everyone, mostly Joel. he nonchalantly walked over to where you were lounging, trying to hide the smirk on his face. You peered up at him through your sunglasses, “hey stranger” you smirked, earning a chuckle from him. “Hey yourself” he said. 

-Joel and you have been dating for about five months now. Your only rule was to keep it under wraps, due to the fact that you were scared of people being weirded out by the age gap between you two. It wasn't even that big of a deal, you were a grown adult in her late 20s, and Joel was 36. He had been more than willing to agree when you brought up your father. God forbid he finds out his best friend is dating his little girl, who's not so little anymore.-

You huff a laugh and grin up at him in all his glory. He sits down beside you, with some given space. “You enjoyin’ the cookout?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink. He nods, “yeah it's good, real good” he puts some emphasis on the last two words as his eyes rake over your body and you scoff, throwing him a look. He laughs and nudges you. “This texas heat is gettin to you aint it” you joke and he shrugs, “it's not just the heat” he pushes, a cheesy smile plastered on his handsome face.

You roll your eyes and bite back a grin. “Watch yourself Miller” you warn half heartedly. He throws his hands up in feigned surrender. Your father calls him over to join in on his conversation, Joel gives you a wink and wanders over to them. You sigh as you watch the ripples in the pool water.

This would be so much easier if you two went public, but it's sort of fun to keep it on the low. Even if you hate keeping things from your father. He's been so good to you, he deserves to know. But you just can't bring yourself to tell him. Lord knows what it would do to him. 

You absentmindedly stare at Joel as he converses with the neighbors. You see a woman, maybe a bit older than him, walk over. You haven't seen her before, she must have just rolled into town. She's pretty, albeit. Definitely looking good for her age, long shiny hair and a killer smile. You watch as she walks over to where Joel is, a strange unwelcoming feeling starts bubbling up in your chest. You push it down with another sip of your drink.

Joel is of course being his usual friendly self, and the woman is leaning into it a bit too much to your liking. Laughing at all his jokes, being touchy and flirty. He doesn't seem to notice her motive. You get up with a frustrated huff and walk inside the house. Joel takes notice of this and excuses himself from the conversation.

You shouldn't feel this way, of course women are going to flirt with him, he's Joel. And you two aren't public, no one knows about the relationship you share behind closed doors. It still doesn't feel good. He's yours, and you're his. He promised you that day one. 

Everyone is outside enjoying the cookout. You're standing in your fathers kitchen, filling yourself a glass of ice water. You hear the back door open and close, you know it's Joel. You sigh to yourself and take a swig of the water. “You all good in here sweetheart?” he asks, you fake a smile and nod. “Yeah everything is great” you say. He nods and steps closer to you. 

“Who was that lady, I don't think I recognize her” you ask calmly, Joel of course thinks nothing of it. “Hm? Oh yeah, she just moved down the street, said her name was Caroline” he informs you, you nod and cross your arms, leaning against the counter. “That's cool, she seems nice” you say, silently pinching yourself to push down the jealousy boiling within. 

“Yeah she's sweet, I offered to help her finish moving in tomorrow” your eye twitches and you sip your drink, chewing on an ice cube. Sweet? Is he serious? “That's nice of you” your tone is short, he catches onto this and raises a brow “You sound upset baby” he asks with some concern. “No! No i'm not upset, it's great that you offered to help, i'm sure Caroline feels so good about that” you huff. Joel squints his eyes in suspicion but raises no further questions. He does not want to argue with you in your fathers kitchen. 

“Yeah, you wanna come along?” he offers, “no i'm okay, i've got..yardwork to do tomorrow” you come up with an excuse. You do not want to be around Joel and another girl who is potentially interested in him. That would not go over well with you. You'd rather sit angry in your bedroom. 

“Ah okay, sure” he smiles softly before turning on his heel and walking out back into the crowd in the backyard. You slump as soon as he leaves, huffing to yourself and running a hand over your face. You catch a glimpse of him back in conversation with Caroline. You decide you don't want to be here any longer. 

You at least say bye to your father, grabbing your stuff and doing a half assed irish goodbye. The drive home is filled with too many thoughts running through your head. You're an overthinker at heart, it never comes in handy. It's a short drive to your house, you live just down the block, Joel's house is a few more down. You step out of the car and notice the U-Haul van in the driveway next to Joel's house. Great, so great, she's his next door neighbor. This is perfect.

Your eye twitches again and you storm inside, flopping down on the couch and turning the tv on to distract yourself. It doesn't work, all you can think about is how this woman is for sure plotting to take Joel away from you. 

You think Joel would favor this woman, Caroline, more than you. I mean why wouldn't he, she's his age, pretty, friendly and sparks up great conversation. He obviously likes her too, leaning into her small arm touches and smiling at her for a second too long. God why do you have to do this to yourself, he obviously loves you, plus youre dating in secret, you could at least be understanding. You wouldn't want people suspecting Joel was dating. 

On the other hand you want people to suspect, you don't want anyone taking him away from you. A part of you thinks you're not mature enough for Joel, he's told you before that you have your whole life ahead of you, why spend it with him? You didn't care, you wanted to be with him. He made you feel so special, like you're the only girl in a room full of people. 

But then you saw him with that woman, making her feel how he makes you feel. Maybe it's a Joel thing, he's always friendly with everyone, why is this any different? You fall asleep, angry on the couch, stirring in your thoughts that you wish would just shut the fuck up. 

—----------------------------------------------

The next day you wake up from the worst sleep of your life. Looking outside you actually do think you should do some yard work. You throw on some clothes you don't care to get dirty and head outside into the Texas heat. 

While tending to your front garden, your attention is turned to down the street. You see Joel helping Caroline finish moving. Lips are moving but you have no idea what they're talking about. She lets out a hearty laugh and Joel seems proud of himself. You grunt to yourself and throw your garden tools down, one of them hits your foot and cuts it. You yelp in pain and grab your foot.

Who the hell does yardwork barefoot? You apparently…stupid. (i don't mean that 😔). You walk awkwardly back inside, cursing at yourself, and at Caroline…and Joel. angry tears well up in your eyes, you are so full of emotions right now and the only reasonable way to deal with it is to just cry. It works wonders…most of the time. 

The cut is deeper than you think and you groan loudly. You do not want to deal with anything today. 

The doorbell rings and you jump slightly. You're not expecting any company right now. You haphazardly wrap your bloody foot and go to open the door.

“Joel?” you're honestly surprised he showed up. “Hey darlin’, mind if I-” he notices your badly wrapped foot and frowns, “what happened to your foot?” he asks concern etched in his tone. You laugh awkwardly, “ah its uh..its nothing, why are you here?” you ask, not meaning to sound as cold as you did. “What, am I not allowed to visit my favorite girl?” he grins. 

How can you be mad at him when he talks to you like that. You let him in and plop on the couch, he joins you. “Great job at bandaging that, you should go into the medical field” he jokes and you scoff, biting back a smirk. “Shut up, it's temporary” you excuse. He chuckles to himself and gets up, wandering to your bathroom, coming back with proper aid for your wounded foot. 

He kneels down in front of you, taking your foot gently. He unwraps the bandage and frowns when he sees the cut. “You gonna tell me how this happened sweetheart?” he asks, wetting a pad with alcohol. You sigh and press your lips into a thin line. “Yardwork” you admit, “yard work?” he repeats and you nod. “You were doing yard work barefoot?” he asks, a worried smirk on his face. “Yep, I know it's stupid” you shake your head and he grunts, dabbing the wound with the alcohol soaked cotton pad. 

You wince slightly at the sting, “i'm sorry baby” your heart clenches in your chest. “I threw the garden tools on the ground…and one of them hit my foot” you admit, looking down at your wound. Joel frowns, “why'd you do that?” he asks. 

You furrow your brows and fidget with your hands. You've always been one for communication, it would be stupid to keep this from him and let the jealousy and anger fester into something more. 

You sigh before looking at him with a hint of shame in your eyes, “I saw you helping Caroline move into her house, and you looked so happy with her and I got upset…” you finally tell him, he looks confused and you continue speaking before he can say anything. “The way she was acting at the cookout yesterday, all flirty, and you- you didn't do anything about it you just- i don't know, you were so nice to her and-” you groan softly as you frown, “and i thought you were starting to like her because she's, yknow, your age” 

Joel goes to speak but you keep going. “I thought that she wanted you, and I'm younger than you and not as mature? I don't know, I sound stupid.” You cover your face with your hands and he sighs heavily. “Oh sweetheart” he rubs comforting circles on your calf. “Baby I had no idea, I'm so sorry I made it seem that way” he apologizes. 

“I just wanted to be a friendly neighbor, I had no other intentions, and I truly thought she was just being friendly, not flirty- I'm sorry sweetheart, I should've noticed,” he goes on. You smile softly at him and he smiles back, quickly finishing your bandage. 

He returns to his spot next to you on the couch. He pulls you close and you wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent. He smells like wood and whiskey. Your favorite smell on him. Joel rubs your back and kisses the top of your head. 

“Hey, look at me” he gently grabs your chin, you look at him with glossy eyes. “You are the only one for me, okay? I don't care that you're younger than me, and I don't care about her. I love you and you only sweetheart” he reassures you and you hug him tightly, pressing your face into his chest. “I love you too” you say softly. 

He presses kisses to the top of your head, to your cheeks and finally your lips. All your worries melt away when his lips meet yours. 

You know he loves only you, you know he wants only you. You are more than content with that because you feel the same way about him.

[worlds-we-write]

Not So Funny Now, Huh?

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

summary: Patrol gets messy when a friend teases you about "your man" and Joel overhears. Back home, jealous and possessive Joel makes sure you remember exactly who you belong to.

tags: dom!Joel, jealous/possessive behavior, rough sex, heavy dirty talk, hair pulling, choking (light), marking, unprotected sex, overstimulation, praise/degradation mix, possessiveness, aftercare.

AN: jealous + filthy Joel is always the mood 🔥 thank you @/stankyedits27 on TikTok for inspiring this nasty little one. enjoy xoxo

My Masterlist

The patrol was supposed to be quiet.

Just routine—south perimeter check, little chit chat, nothing serious. But of course, Lila couldn’t help herself. She kept glancing between you and Joel like she was watching the start of some soap opera.

"So… how’s your man these days?" she asked with a knowing smirk, nudging your arm as you both walked a little ahead of Joel.

You laughed it off, waving her off quickly. “Shut up. He’s not my man.”

“Uh huh,” Lila singsonged. “You sure don’t sound like someone who isn’t head over heels. I see how you look at him.”

Your face flushed hot, but you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. “Drop it. Seriously.”

But Joel was behind you. Joel was listening.

His boots scraped harshly against the gravel. His jaw ticked, heavy silence radiating off him like heat from the summer pavement. You didn’t realize he’d even been paying attention. You didn’t realize just how closely he’d been listening.

By the time patrol ended and the sun dipped low, Joel hadn’t said a word.

Not until you were back at your place. Alone.

You barely locked the door before he was right there, crowding into your space, hands braced on the wall beside your head. You blinked up at him in confusion.

“‘Your man,’ huh?” His voice was a low growl, soft and dangerous. “That who you were talkin’ about out there? Someone else?”

You swallowed. “Joel—what?”

“Answer me.” His palm wrapped around your throat, not tight, just firm enough to make you feel small and trapped against him. His eyes were wild with something dark and simmering.

“Of course I was talking about you,” you whispered, breath catching.

He huffed a sharp breath through his nose, like he wasn’t sure if that satisfied him or pissed him off more.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered. “Laughin’ it up, blushin’ like a fuckin’ teenager. You like gettin’ people talkin’, baby? Like makin’ ‘em wonder who’s fuckin’ you?”

His words hit you like lightning. You felt them between your legs more than you should have.

“Joel, no—”

“No?” His free hand slid down, gripping your hips so tight it hurt. He hauled you against him, letting you feel the hard, thick press of him through his jeans. “Don’t lie. You want me like this, don’t you? All worked up. Jealous. You know what that does to me.”

Your knees went weak. You whimpered as he shoved you back toward the bedroom.

Once you hit the bed, he didn’t waste time. Pulled your pants down roughly, threw them somewhere across the room. Fingers dragged down your soaked panties like he expected you to deny how wet you were—but you couldn’t.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Joel hissed, running his fingers through your arousal. “You’re so fuckin’ wet already. From just me bein’ mad at you, huh? You like pokin’ the fuckin’ bear, girl. Like knowin’ you’re mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, arching up as two fingers pushed deep inside you.

“Yeah,” he grunted, leaning down so his mouth was right by your ear, lips brushing your skin. “Say it again.”

“Yours. I’m yours.”

“That’s right. No more gigglin’ with your little friends. No more wonderin’.”

His fingers fucked into you relentlessly until you were crying out, hands scrambling for something—anything—to hold onto.

“Joel—oh my God—Joel—”

“Not good enough. Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“Yours, yours, it’s yours—please—”

He groaned, pulling his fingers free and shoving his pants down just enough to free himself. The head of his cock nudged against your soaked entrance and without waiting, he pushed in deep, all at once. You cried out, body jerking.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. So fuckin’ tight. Like you were made for me.”

He set a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours as his hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Look at me. You wanna act like I’m not your man? Huh? Then why’s your pussy squeezin’ me like this?”

You could barely breathe, the mixture of pain and pleasure making your head spin.

“I—Joel—can’t—”

“Yes you can. Gonna take every fuckin’ inch. Gonna let me ruin you.”

He was relentless. Filthy. Every word pouring from his mouth more possessive than the last. He owned you in every sense—his cock driving you toward oblivion, his hand gripping your throat again, his voice branding you.

When your orgasm hit, it shattered through you. You screamed his name as your body arched off the bed, clenching and fluttering around him.

Joel groaned deep in his chest, letting go and fucking you through it, chasing his own release.

“Mine,” he snarled as he spilled deep inside you, hips grinding down as if he could bury himself even deeper. “You’re fuckin’ mine. Say it.”

“Yours,” you sobbed, overwhelmed and trembling.

Joel collapsed over you, breath ragged. But even as he kissed your temple and whispered soft praises now, his hips still lazily rocked against you, keeping you filled, keeping you marked.

“You ever even think about sayin’ otherwise again, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week,” he murmured against your skin.

And somehow… that didn’t sound like a punishment at all.

Your legs were jelly by the time Joel finally let you go. He could see it too — the way you slumped back against the mattress, boneless and dazed.

“Shit, baby,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Wore you out, huh?”

You could only nod weakly, eyes fluttering shut as his hands caressed your sides. The rough, jealous edge was long gone now. In its place was something far softer — careful, protective Joel, whose fingers traced the marks he’d left with visible regret.

“Didn’t mean to be that fuckin’ rough,” he whispered, voice thick with guilt. He kissed the faint red lines on your throat, then your collarbone. “You alright? Talk to me, honey.”

“M’okay,” you mumbled, sleepy but floating. “Was good. Really good, Joel.”

That seemed to ease something in him. He gave a low hum, kissed you again — this time slow and unhurried — and then stood.

“Stay right there,” he ordered gently. “Ain’t done takin’ care of you.”

You barely registered him moving around the room, but minutes later he was back with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you up with slow, tender strokes, murmuring sweet praises the whole time. Took me so good, baby… fuck, I love you like this.

When he was finished, he pulled you into his arms effortlessly, carrying you bridal style toward the small bathroom.

“Joel,” you mumbled, half-asleep against his shoulder.

“Shhh,” he soothed, “gonna run you a bath. Just relax.”

He didn’t let you lift a finger. He set you down carefully on the closed toilet seat as he filled the tub, making sure the water was just right before helping you in. His hands stayed on you the whole time — washing your hair, massaging your scalp, running soft cloths over your skin.

By the time he pulled you out, wrapped you up in his flannel, and carried you back to bed, you were nothing but pliant warmth in his hold.

Once tucked under the covers, he slid in behind you, pressing his chest to your back and hooking a heavy arm possessively around your waist.

“No more jokin’ about ‘your man,’” he murmured sleepily, voice rough but fond as his nose nuzzled into your hair. “Ain’t no fuckin’ joke. You’re mine. You hear me?”

You smiled, drowsy and warm and safe.

“Yours,” you whispered back.

Joel hummed, satisfied, pulling you closer as he drifted off with you in his arms — wrapped up in the sweetest kind of aftermath.

[velvetinks]

Takes One to Know One

Joel Miller x Jackson! Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, dom!Joel, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (in fiction), rough but emotional sex, wall sex, possessiveness, reader and Joel both emotionally repressed and horny, homophobia (called out), protective Joel, minor angst, language.

You and Joel Miller couldn’t be in the same room for five minutes without tearing each other apart.

Not literally. Not yet.

You clashed over patrol routes, rations, radio static, the fucking weather. He thought you were reckless. You thought he was a control freak with a savior complex. The only thing you agreed on was your mutual hatred.

So of course Maria put you on security duty together during Jackson’s annual church dance.

“Try not to murder each other,” she’d said.

You lasted twenty minutes before Joel got under your skin.

“You always gotta fidget?” he muttered, arms crossed as you shifted your weight from foot to foot beside him.

“You always gotta breathe so loud?”

Joel exhaled through his nose. “I swear, you were built in a goddamn factory just to piss me off.”

You opened your mouth to reply but that’s when it happened.

From inside the church, you heard a voice. Loud. Cruel.

“Didn’t know they let d*kes slow dance now.”

The music stuttered. A few people laughed, awkward and mean. And in the middle of it all, Ellie Williams stood frozen on the dance floor, her hand still in Dina’s, cheeks burning red.

Your vision tunneled.

You were already halfway through the crowd before you realized Joel was right behind you.

“Say that again,” you snapped.

The man a smug, soft-bellied prick named Jared raised his brows. “Just surprised, is all. Thought this was a family event.”

Joel stepped beside you. “You run your mouth again, and I’ll make sure you don’t come back to any event.”

“Or walk straight,” you added, voice like ice.

Jared held up his hands. “Touchy, touchy. Damn. Didn’t know y’all were the lesbian defense squad.”

Joel grabbed him by the collar. “And I didn’t know bigots made it past the gates.”

“Joel,” you warned. He didn’t loosen his grip.

“I got it,” he muttered, shoving Jared back. “Get the fuck out.”

When the asshole stumbled off, Joel turned to Ellie. “You good, kid?”

She nodded stiffly. Dina held her hand tighter.

You knelt a bit, lowering your voice. “Ignore him. He’s not worth the dirt on your boots.”

Ellie looked up at you, surprised, then gave a single nod. You ruffled her curls.

As you stood, you caught Joel staring. Not with contempt.

With something else.

Outside, the air was cooler. The music kept playing, muffled now behind stained glass. You sat on the steps, cracked open a new beer, and tried not to let your pulse trip over itself. Joel stood next to you in silence.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you muttered eventually.

“I know.”

“But you did.”

He nodded.

You glanced at him. “You care about her?”

“More than I care about being right all the time.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Joel turned to you. There was something unreadable in his face. “You think I like fightin’ with you?”

You blinked. “Don’t you?”

“I do it ‘cause if I didn’t, I’d be…” He cut himself off. Jaw clenched. “Forget it.”

“No. Say it.”

His voice dropped. “If I didn’t argue with you, I’d be tryin’ to fuck you.”

The beer nearly slipped from your hand.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He stepped closer. His broad body blocked the lamplight. His voice went low, rough. “You get under my skin like no one ever has. You piss me off, make me lose sleep. And I still wanna taste you so bad it makes me dizzy.”

Your heart pounded.

“I hate you,” you whispered, voice shaking.

Joel smirked. “Yeah? Then hit me.”

Instead, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him like you were starving for it.

He groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your hips like he’d been waiting years. The kiss was messy, open-mouthed, full of teeth and heat. You bit his bottom lip, he backed you into the church wall.

“Goddamn mouth on you,” he muttered, pressing you hard into the wood. “Always runnin’. Gonna fill it.”

“Promises,” you hissed, grinding against his thigh.

He shoved your coat aside, fingers working your jeans open with practiced ease. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t.

Instead, you gasped as his hand slipped into your underwear, two thick fingers finding you wet and throbbing.

“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re soaked. All that fightin’ just gets you worked up, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your head fell back against the wall as he pumped his fingers in and out, curling them just right, watching you come undone like it was his goddamn mission.

When you came, it was sudden and sharp, and he swallowed your moan with another kiss.

But he wasn’t done.

“Turn around,” he said, voice gravel.

You obeyed, hands braced against the wall. He yanked your jeans down to your thighs, grunted as he undid his own belt.

Then you felt him—hot, hard, lining up against your entrance.

“You want it?” he asked, chest pressed to your back, breath at your ear. “Say it.”

“I want it.”

“Say my fuckin’ name.”

“Joel—”

He pushed in slow, deep, a rough groan ripping from his throat as you clenched around him.

“Goddamn, girl,” he muttered. “Tighter than I imagined.”

He fucked you hard, one hand gripping your hip, the other covering your mouth as your moans got louder. Every thrust punched the breath from your lungs. Your fingers dug into the church wall like you were praying.

“This what you wanted?” he rasped. “This what all that attitude was about?”

You nodded frantically.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” He bit your neck. “You take me so good, baby.”

You came again with a choked sob, and that set him off. He groaned your name into your shoulder, hips stuttering as he spilled into you.

For a minute, neither of you moved. Just panted. Pressed together. Sweating. Shaking.

Eventually, Joel pulled out and helped you fix your clothes, hands strangely gentle.

You turned to face him, lips swollen, neck marked.

“So,” you said breathlessly. “Still hate me?”

His smile was crooked. “Guess I’ll have to fuck the hate outta you.”

You kissed him again. This time, it wasn’t rough.

This time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d been wrong all along.

[andy-15-07]

Hi Andy first of all i want to say that i love you’re writing it’s amazing!

Is it possible for a pedro pascal x female reader where they are divorced but they cannot let go of each other and reunite again?

Never Really Gone

PAIRING: Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 761| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

Joel Miller Masterlist

The papers have been signed for two years now, but his toothbrush is still in your drawer.

You told yourself you’d toss it. Swore you would. But every time your hand hovers over it, you stop. You close the drawer and walk away.

Pedro’s been doing the same , you know because you found your old sweatshirt folded in his closet the last time you dropped by his place to pick up mail that still gets delivered to his box by mistake. It smelled like him , that warm cedar and coffee scent that feels like coming home at two in the morning.

The last two years have been a dance , a push and pull that neither of you ever really learned to finish. There were times you tried. Really tried. You stayed out too late, dated other people, forced yourself to stop answering his messages about the dog you co-parent like a stubborn child who won’t die.

But it never stuck. Because when the city feels too big or too cold, he’s still the only one you want to call. And he always answers.

Tonight is one of those nights.

You’re standing in his kitchen because your heat went out , that’s the excuse, anyway. You didn’t call a repairman. You didn’t try very hard to fix it. You called him instead, and he just said, “Bring a bag, cariño. You know where the spare key is.”

So here you are, barefoot in his old T-shirt , your old T-shirt, really , stirring tea while he sits on the couch behind you. He’s got one foot propped on the coffee table, glasses sliding down his nose as he reads something on his phone, pretending you’re just an old habit he hasn’t broken yet.

When you hand him his mug, your fingers brush, and it’s like striking a match. The heat sizzles under your skin, and you know he feels it too by the way his eyes flick up to yours , soft, dark, a little tired in the corners.

“You okay?” he asks.

You should say yes. Lie the way you both have been lying for two years.

Instead, you shrug. “Not really.”

He pats the couch next to him, sets his mug aside untouched. “C’mere.”

You do. Of course you do.

When he kisses you, it’s not frantic. It’s not desperate like it used to be , when you were fighting to hold on to something already slipping through your fingers. Now it’s slow. Familiar. Almost careful.

You feel his hand slide to the back of your neck, the scratch of his beard against your jaw, the quiet sigh that leaves his throat like he’s been holding his breath for two damn years.

When you pull back, you’re both breathing heavy, foreheads pressed together.

“This is stupid,” you whisper.

“Yeah.” His thumb brushes your cheek. “It is.”

“Gonna ruin us all over again.”

He huffs a soft laugh, the kind you used to fall asleep to. “Maybe. Or maybe we just stop pretending we know how to stay away.”

You close your eyes. You feel like you could cry but you won’t , not tonight. Tonight you’re too tired to fight the thing that’s been following you both since the day the ink dried.

You tilt your head, press your lips to his temple. “I don’t know how to do this right, Pedro.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you , really look. His eyes are soft, the kind of soft that makes it hurt to breathe. “Then we don’t do it right. We just do it.”

Your laugh breaks in the middle, part relief, part fear. “We’re a mess.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, wide and crooked, the same smile that made you say I do in the first place. “But you’re my mess.”

You bury your face in his chest. Feel the beat of his heart under your palm. Feel all the years that broke you both apart, all the ones that stitched you back together anyway.

Maybe it won’t work. Maybe you’ll fight again. Maybe you’ll break again. But maybe this time you’ll be smart enough to hold on tighter when it hurts. Maybe you’ll choose each other when it’s ugly , not just when it’s easy.

You pull back just enough to kiss him again , slow, certain, the way you never learned to forget.

When you break apart, he rests his forehead to yours and whispers, “Stay this time.”

You nod, your hand curled tight in his shirt. “I was never really gone.”

[joelslastofus]

A Texan Heart

[SUMMARY: Joel Miller has always ignored the attraction he’s felt towards you, especially being that your father and him are close friends in Jackson. Until one night, Joel doesn’t feel he can ignore what’s in front of him..]

Chapter 1: Just a drink

Age gap

Ever since arriving to Jackson, your father grew close with the Millers, preferably Joel Miller. The two would have coffee, beer, and sometimes even play a tune together. In the time you had been there you and Joel had become pretty close and he even became your secret beer buddy once a week until he finally put his foot down. It’s not like you weren’t old enough to drink, you were 25, still, he knew how your old man felt about you drinking at all. A bit hypocritical being that your father seemed to depend heavily on alcohol. He never wanted you to make it a habit and he made sure everyone in town knew that.

Today was New Year’s Eve, the guy you were seeing, Henry, you hadn’t seen all day. Still, you expected to see him that night at the event being held. Your father already drunk talking with a few guys hadn’t noticed you look around for Henry and when you did, your heart stopped. His arms were wrapped around a woman that had just arrived to Jackson, his eyes closed as he kissed her. He had no idea you were watching. You didn’t have any energy to confront him, you never believed in fighting over a man.

He obviously made his choice.

Angrily you walked out ignoring the chatter around you, people enjoying themselves, all you really wanted was to get away.

Walking home you noticed Joel on his porch playing his guitar, you breathed a sigh of relief and began walking towards him.

“Nuh-uh, don’t even think about it.”

“Joel, please” you reply, you could feel a knot in your throat holding back tears. Biting his inner lip he looked behind you and next door to your house before standing up and leading the way inside.

“One beer” he gave you a warning glare as he passed you a cold one he had just taken out of the fridge.

“Thanks” you sighed taking a seat at the round wooden table and took a sip.

“Now, why ain’t you at that party?”

You rolled your eyes.

“For what? To see how drunk my father could get?” You chuckled sarcastically. “No thanks”

Joel leaned back on the counter watching you take another desperate sip. He could tell something was bothering you, he could tell you were on the verge of tears.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He crossed his arms as you took another sip shaking your head.

“Actually, got anything stronger than this?”

You looked down at the bottle craving something more.

“I don’t think so-’”

“Come on, Joel. I know you said you didn’t feel right doing this anymore, but you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like a damn kid. Plus I-“ your voice cracked.

“I had a shitty day ok? Just one drink…Don’t make me beg” you whispered tilting your head looking up at him.

His lips tightened as he walked across the room and grabbed his bottle of scotch out of the cabinet and two glasses.

Silently he sat across from you and poured what he figured was just enough for you. Without hesitation, you grabbed the glass and drank it in one gulp.

“Hey, easy”

“Oh-“ you made a sour face shaking your head when there was a sudden knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Joel called out.

“It’s me Tommy” your eyes bulged out while Joel signaled for you to stay quiet.

“I’ll be right back, I just gotta have a quick talk with him’” he assured you and left you alone.

Of course, being alone with a full bottle of scotch you took it upon yourself to pour another glass. And as the minutes went on, five turned to ten, ten turned to twenty, you poured yourself another and another.

“The hell are ya doin’?!” Joel walked in to find the bottle half empty.

“You took too long” you shrugged.

“Jesus” he whispered grabbing the bottle off the table as you finished your last drop.

“God dammit, didn’t I tell ya to take it easy with that?”

“I feel fine” you assured him but he knew just how quickly scotch could creep up on a person, let alone someone chugging it.

“I just needed a drink-“

“You had more than ‘a drink’, sweetheart” sarcasm in his tone as he slammed the cabinet shut.

“Well, good” you sat back crossing your arms.

“The least I could do for some fun while Henry enjoys himself out there”

Joel sighed brushing his hand across the back of his neck, of course it was a damn boy. He pushed his jacket back placing his hands on his hips and looked down at the table.

“Henry huh” he repeated.

“Want me to say somethin’ to him?”

“No!” You quickly looked up, not even to spare Henry’s feelings but just because you knew how much the guys already feared Joel.

“It’s stupid” you sniffled.

“What happened?”

“Nothing”

“You came down here and drank up half my damn scotch, might as well tell me” he insisted.

“I don’t know…all these pretty girls in town, who was I kidding?”

Joel knit his brows slightly confused.

“And you think you ain’t one of ‘em?”

“Huh?” He could already see your eyes beginning to dance, barely realizing what he said.

“He didn’t even have the balls to break things off with me, Joel, he just-“ you wiped away a tear as you went on.

“I saw him kissing her at the stupid event but hey I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves” you reached for his glass across the table and took another sip.

“Alright I think you’ve had enough” he pulled the glass back.

“I could see why he liked her so much. I just…I just don’t understand what I did wrong”

“Not a damn thing” Joel’s responded slightly defensive, he never really liked Henry.

He grabbed a chair turning it towards you and sat down. Leaning forward, he took a hold of his glass and finished what was left of his drink.

“I guess..” you raised your brows feeling a buzz.

“Screw him” you shrugged before a sudden laughter took over you.

“This stuff actually has me feeling a bit better now”

“Don’t get used to it” Joel spoke low.

“Oh come on now, Joel. I’m a big girl, I should have the freedom to drink” you began to slowly push yourself up.

“Buuuut- I better get going” you stood up straight and felt the room spin.

“You alright?” Joel looked up at you, ready to get up beside you until you started to walk and stumbled right beside him. Quickly he caught you by your waist, falling right onto his lap. You hadn’t realized how tense Joel’s body became, his grip on your waist tightening as you threw your head back in laughter.

“You know, I haven’t laughed this much in a while” you sighed looking down at him, your hands on his shoulders, you realized how close your face was to his.

“Sorry” you whispered.

“Don’t be” he subtly shook his head noticing how you were staring down at him.

“You know, you have really nice hair” your fingers slowly brushed through his thick waves. He swallowed hard, he didn’t say a word for a moment, his gaze darting between your eyes and lips. Joel had to remind himself who you were in that moment. To say he wasn’t attracted to you would’ve been a lie, to say he wasn’t feeling himself get slowly aroused with you on his lap, an ever bigger one. But he couldn’t, especially not like this.

“Come on, I’ll take ya home.” Joel balanced you on your feet as he stood up beside you.

“Yeah- God I hope my dad’s not home yet” you slurred.

“Second thought, maybe you should stay here for the night”

“Here?! Aw Joel, you’re so kind-“

“I know” irritated by what he somehow got himself into, he began leading you to the bedroom, holding your body against his so you wouldn’t stumble into the wall.

“I’m sorry for drinking your scotch” he sat you down on the bed, your eyes growing heavy.

“Don’t worry about it” down on one knee he took off your boots, scooping up your legs and laying them on the bed.

You sighed throwing yourself back as Joel pulled the blanket up over your body, his face over yours.

“Joel….I ever tell you how sweet you are to me? Even when you’re cranky” your hand gently tapped his face, your finger tips then gently brushing over his facial hair. Glossy eyes washing over his features till they stopped on his lips. Joel himself didn’t move, his jaw tensed as he caught his breathing grow heavy.

“Goodnight, darlin’” you sighed half asleep and closed your eyes.

The next morning you woke up to a pounding headache, rubbing your forehead you turned over before realizing you were not in your bed.

“What the hell?” You whispered picking your head up slowly, your brows furrowed until your eyes stopped on wooden sculptures at the other end of the room.

“Joel” you whispered.

Joel sat at the kitchen table with his glasses laying low on the bridge of his nose, the sound of you rushing down the hall making him look up.

“Joel” you panted.

“I checked, your dad hasn’t been up yet, figured I’d let you sleep” you breathed a sigh of relief before rubbing your painfully throbbing head.

“Ridiculous, as if I’m 15. Um-“ you turned to him awkwardly thinking of the night before, the parts you could remember.

“Did I say anything stupid?”

“No mam” he responded calmly, thinking of the very moment you fell onto his lap, the touch of your soft fingers on his face.

“Good” you whispered.

“Well, thanks, Joel. I better go” you walked to the door about to step out until he called out to you making you look back at him.

“Just so ya know, those girls don’t hold a candle to ya” you felt a tingle in the pit of your stomach, a smile forming on your lips.

“Thank you, Joel”

“See ya around, pretty girl”

He thought you were pretty. Joel Miller thought you were pretty, suddenly the night before didn’t seem so bad at all..

@katmoonz @joelsteinfeld @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @heartpatch @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco

@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @lonely-ey3s

@elliesr1fle @ro-nahime-things @southernbe @dendulinka6 @laliceee @just-mj-or-not @iamtoriasworld @katwriteshardy @gwend0lyne @lily-mylove @antobooh @sukivenue @keileighr @readingiskeepingmegoing

[littlemissmiller]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒓

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: (au) (Joel is dad to a 9 year old Sarah) Joel has been your neighbor for some time and you and him have become friendly. In an attempt to spend more time to him (and a desire to show off your summer body) you throw a pool party…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, fluff, friends to lovers, use of nicknames (babydoll, baby, darling), p in v, ass eating, cowgirl style, fingering, couch sex, porn with a plot

Work count: 4.1k

A/N: hi all! the official first day of summer is today and i got inspired by a pool party i went to with my mans so i just had to write this cute lil smutty, fluffy story. i have a billy request coming and hopefully i get ch 3 of Summer Highs out soon (i know i said it would be soon don’t trust me on a release date which is why i don’t do them) ok that’s it! much love and enjoy ❣︎

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It’s always a hot summer in Texas. It would feel weird if it wasn’t, but this year it feels like the earth is a legit bun in the oven. The whole neighborhood is feeling the heat, so given you have a pool in your backyard, you invite people over for a summer kickoff. Of course it has nothing to do with the fact you are desperate to see Joel Miller in nothing but a pair of swim trunks. From just his work shirts alone, you could see how tight his shirt hugged his muscles. How toned his back was whenever he would sweat through it doing yard work. You would always wave over to him from across the street, occasionally bring him water or lemonade while he worked. And today, your excuse for seeing him was to invite him to your pool party. You catch him outside after work, in his garage tinkering around under his truck. You stroll across the street and walk in. You knock on the side of the garage walls and Joel slides out from under his Silverado.

“Well hey there!” He beams, striding towards you

“What’s up cowboy.”

“Not much, waiting for Sarah to come home from soccer camp.” He informs

“Oh keeping her busy.”

“Well between so and the library reading contest she’s more or less keeping herself busy. Determined to get those Astro tickets. I promised we would do a road trip and she reaches thirty books by the end of June and wins the two tickets. She’s already at twenty five. She has a whole strategy.”

“Wow. Good for her. Well I hope she’s not too busy this weekend…” you state

“Oh yeah why’s that” he smiles, leaning his arm against the garage and above your head. You feel totally lost here with him looking at you how he is. His big brown eyes, so curious and pleasant, simply wondering what you have to say. He raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Well I sent out an evite a little bit ago, but I wanted to come tell you in person that I’m having a pool party Saturday. I thought we could all beat the heat ya know.”

“Yeah we‘ll be free.” He steps back, taking a rag from his waist and wiping his hands. He heads toward his garage fridge and gets out two bottles of water, offering you one.

“Thanks. So you do have your own water.”

“Yeah I always keep that fridge full. Especially with Sarah and her friends I practically always got Gatorade.”

“So you just like my water better?”

Joel smiles at you, combing his hair with his fingers. You watch his muscles flex and wish that you can be wrapped in them. He starts to look through his tool box and nods.

“You could say that. So Saturday you said? What time?”

“It starts at 12, but you can stay for as long as you’d like.”

“I’ll talk to Sarah, but I have a feeling she'll say yes. She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take.”

“I’m sure.”

“We’ll see ya Saturday then.” He winks and disappears back under his truck

You waltz out of the garage and back to your house. You trot inside gleefully and close the door behind you. You could jump, squeal, practically combust. Not only did you just figure out Joel had his own drinks on deck whenever he works, but always accepts an offer from you no matter what. God he must like you. He must. You hope you're not thinking too much into it but, you couldn’t help but think when he said “She loves you, so any excuse to see you, she’ll take…” he really was talking about himself. You bite your lip and roll your eyes. You want him so badly. So bad you feel like you are going to explode. You lean your head back against the door and sigh.

Saturday comes around soon enough, and you spend the whole evening and next morning preparing for the day. You clean your house, chop lettuce, tomatoes and onions for burgers, cut up a watermelon and make a macaroni salad. Even though you hadn’t explicitly asked for his help, you had a feeling Joel would want to help grill and you’d gladly take it. You prepare a cooler with a few beers and some water and put it in your garage fridge. Next you set up the pool area. You lay the cushions on the pool chairs, unwind the umbrellas and set out a few pool noodles. Everything looks perfect and your first guests start arriving around 12:08. More and more people arrive and at around 1:30, you finally see Joel and Sarah pulling up. He walks in with his own cooler and a swim bag. He approaches you while Sarah runs off to the other neighborhood kids.

“Well hey cowboy! Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah sorry we are late. Work called last minute and I had to help them order some more flooring for our site.”

“No worries. But these people are getting hungry and maybe you could help grill. I hate to put you to work…”

“Ain’t no trouble darling.”

“Ok I’m going to change. The patties are already formed, just in the fridge.”

Joel follows you inside and heads into your kitchen, poking his head in the fridge. You walk upstairs to your bedroom and change into your swimsuit. You had gone out that week and picked out a new suit. It was white, a two piece, the edge frilled, and it shaped your figure so well. You spin around and admire how it sits on your ass. The back had a cheeky build, and totally gave the viewer an idea of how your cute little ass looks. Not to mention the way it rides up, exposing your cheeks slightly, it’s perfect and you can’t wait for Joel to see you in it. You put your jean shorts back on and find one of your white, open-knit, pool coverup and a red, and a worn USA baseball cap. You pull your ponytail through the loop of your hat and spin around one last time.

Rushing down the stairs, only to find Joel already outside starting the grill. You sigh in disappointment. You take a beer from your fridge and try to open in on your own. Then Joel walks back inside. Even though your back is turned to him, he can tell you are struggling.

“Need help?”

You jump and turn around, your tits bouncing slightly as you turn, which Joel notices. He also seems slightly speechless as you turn to face him. His sentence cut off, face frozen, as if you stole the words from his mouth.

“Uh yeah, thanks.” You hand him the bottle and he takes it, uncapping it like it’s nothing. He hands it back to you and you take a swig.

“Oh hey so because I was so outta sorts getting out the door, I totally forgot to get sunscreen. You got any, Sarah is itching to get in the pool.”

“Of course” you run back up to your bathroom, find a 50 SPF bottle and head back down stairs. Joel calls out to his daughter and she comes rushing inside. At the sight of your face she enthusiastically calls your name and rushes towards you. You hold her in your arms.

“Hey sunshine!”

“We brought brownies!” She proclaims

“Oh did your dad make them?”

“Mhmm. Well he helped, I really was the baker!” She insists

Joel lets out a playful chuckle and rolls his eyes in amusement.

“Yeah, especially with all those eggshells you had to fish out?”

“At least I know how to preheat the oven.” She claps back

Joel smirks and then looks at you. He has always appreciated how loving and kind you are to Sarah. He appreciates knowing that when she’s with you, she’s in more than good hands. And you adored her as well.

“Hey! let her get that sunscreen on ya.”

“I’m fine! I’ll stay in the shade!” Sarah protests but before she can scurry off you’re already squirting it into your hand, applying it to her shoulders.

“You know you don’t have to listen to him. I thought you’re supposed to be the fun one!” She whines, and you smear her face. She scrunches it up in displeasure.

“I am the fun one. This is called fun in the sun, sunshine.”

She groans and pulls her face away.

“You know I think I saw a bomb pop with your name on it out in the garage fridge, if you can still hang in there for one more second.” You promise. “Ok there. Top shelf in the garage. Bring a few for the other kids. Ok?”

“Yes!” She states firmly and rushes off into the garage

“She just loves to keep ya busy…”

“Tell me about it.” Joel rolls his eyes “you uh…you look nice…” he swallows nervously

“Thanks, it’s new. I got it for today actually.”

“Oh really. Trying to impress someone?” He asks

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You quip back, smirking “how’s those burgers coming along”

“Grills still heating up, this is really nice of ya to invite everyone. Sarah hasn’t really had much pool time with soccer.”

“Well you two are invited over anytime.”

“Appreciate the offer. What else do you need for these burgers?”

“Here” you state, turning to the fridge and opening it.

You grab the toppings, cheese, and condiments and follow him outside. As Joel grills, you make your way around, chatting with your fellow neighbors. Eventually you get in the pool with a playful “go on sugar, I’ll holler at ya when they are ready” from Joel. As you strip off your top and shorts, Joel checks you out from across the pool. He can’t help but let his eyes linger on the curves of your body, the way your bikini bottoms hug your ass, and how nice and perky your boobs sit on your chest.

You notice him checking you out, your own eyes hidden behind your sunglasses. You try not to look so much, but with his back to you, it’s easier to admire his broad shoulders. And you have to admit, Joel is absolutely radiating domesticity. You could easily get used to this sight. Sarah splashes around you, pretending to be a mermaid looking for pearls and you throw sinking rings for her to dive for. Joel catches you playing with Sarah, and smiles. The smell of hamburger meat fills the air and Joel calls to you. You throw some more rings in to keep Sarah occupied and head out of the pool.

“How are these, little lady?” Joel asks as you approach

“Fantastic! Let’s put cheese on half of them.”

“You got it!”

People start to gather for food and you help Sarah dry off and get her a plate.

“Cheese or no cheese baby?” Joel asks Sarah as she approaches the grill

“Cheeeese!” She smiles, showing off her big smile to her dad

“What about you doll?” He asks you

“Same as her.”

After you eat, you wait a while to get back in the pool. You lay out with a few of the girls from the neighborhood Wine Club. As you chat, Joel admires the way the sun glimmers off your body. With most of the food served, Joel joins his daughter in the pool. You watch as he takes off his shirt, gawking over his bare chest. His shoulders cut into his neck so sharp and clean and you can help but want to feel how strong he is. And You smirk to yourself, happy to finally see him exactly how you wanted to. And he looks damn good in his turquoise-green trunks.

“I’ll be right back…” you excuse yourself, striding over to Joel, swaying your hips

“Can I get you a drink? I’m getting another beer, and maybe one of those brownies I heard about.”

“Oh I want one!” Sarah exclaims

“If you get out you’re getting more sunscreen on ya babe..” Joel promises

“She can bring me one and I can eat in the pool!”

“No, no baby. C’mon.” He argues, lifting Sarah out of the pool and onto the pavement.

“Awww!” Sarah whines, swinging her arms and legs.

You hold her hand and take her to the food, you grab a towel, wrap her in it and get her a small plate. You place a brownie on it and hand it to her.

“Can I have two?” She bats her eyes

“Go ask your daddy…”

She waddles over to Joel, squatting down to ask him. He rolls his eyes and nods and she trots back to you.

“He said I can!”

As the afternoon turns into evening, more and more people head back to their homes and pretty soon the sun is setting. You start to clean up, picking up plates and empty bottles and taking them inside the house.

The last few neighbors pop in to thank you and say goodbye and behind them is Joel.

“Hey…need some help?” Joel asks you

“Oh you’ve done more than enough. Y’all headed out?”

“I uh...sent Sarah home with the Adler’s. They said they’d watch her for the evening until I got back.“

“Oh! Well I would have loved to say goodbye to her.” You frown

“I bet she would have too, but she passed out on my knee even with everyone running around. Danny wanted to get his Ma home anyways…” he explains

He walks up to the kitchen counter and places a few empty beer bottles down. You smile and thank him. He helps bring in a few more bottles and follows you around with a trash bag as you pick up plates and plastic silverware. After everything is cleaned up and the pool is closed up, you and Joel head inside.

“Well I don’t wanna keep you from Sarah much longer.”

“It’s ok, unless that’s your way of kindly kicking me out, then by all means I’ll head out.” He smirks

“No no, you can stay if you like…”

“You sure?”

You nod and he closes the sliding door leading out to the pool, locking it.

“I don’t have much beer left, but you seem like a whiskey guy to me.” You imply

“I sure do.”

You pour him a glass and he leans over your counter. He smiles and he holds the glass to his lips and sips.

“I really appreciate ya Joel.”

“It’s no trouble.”

There is a brief moment of silence as you take a sip of your whiskey and gaze into his big brown eyes. You can’t help but feel he’s looking at you in the same way. A wave of desire washes over you and just as you're about to speak, possibly trying to make a move, Joel strides over to you.

“Ya know if ya ever need my help, I’ll always be willing. Whatever you need…”

“You’re too sweet Joel, I feel like I need to make it up to you.”

“Maybe you can, baby…” the words slip from his lips and steal your breath away. You gasp and move in closer to him.

“I’m sorry, can I call you baby?”

You nod wordlessly.

“Yeah? Well then baby, kiss me…”

You lean up, cupping his face and pressing his lips against your own. He holds your face in return, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks and moaning into your mouth. Your hands move to cup his neck as you move your face, deepening the kiss. Joel clutches your jaw, pulling you closer and raising you onto your tippy toes. You chuckle against him. This is finally happening. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve dreamed of. Ever since him and Sarah moved in, you have wanted him. It was no secret. Perhaps that’s why the Adler’s offered to watch Sarah. To give you this moment. And you’re ever so thankful.

Joel’s calloused palms move to your waist, slowly trailing down your body, feeling the sides of your bare skin. You hadn’t bothered putting your swim shirt back on after the pool and you were grateful. You welcome his fingers and let out a girlish giggle, his feather light touch overwhelming.

“How late do you wanna stay?”

Joel checks his watch. It’s 8:10.

“I told the Adlers I would be back by 9 so I mean…is that enough time for you…”

“I’ll take whatever you give me.” You smile against his face, kissing his cheek.

With that he returns his mouth to your own and he moves to cup under your shorts. He squeezes your ass and moves his hands under your thighs. In one swift motion he picks you up and is moving you both to your couch. You and him stumble into it and he sits down with you on his lap. You gasp and pull back.

“Ok that was fucking hot Miller, my god could you get any sexier.”

“You know what’s sexy…” he implies, pulling on the front of your bikini top, snapping the strap

“You like it?”

“You look like an absolute snack in this thing darling. And your ass, fuck I couldn’t stop looking at it by the pool.” he pants

“Glad you noticed. I was trying to impress you if you didn’t pick up on that when I told you.”

“Oh I did, and it worked. It definitely worked.” He sighs, sealing his words with another searing kiss.

You rock against him as his mouth moves with yours. You simply can’t get enough of him like this and he desperately wants to devour you. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. He moves to squeeze your ass again, fingers dancing underneath your jeans. He grabs and gropes you, causing you to whine and whimper into his mouth.

“I love those pretty little noises you make, baby. I can’t wait to hear what other noises you make for me.” He whispers

He pulls at the hem of your jeans, tugging on them until they slide down your ass. You stand up, pulling them down your smooth legs. He starts rubbing the back of your thighs, moving his hands up and down and settling them underneath the cheek of your ass. He pulls your waist close to his face, your pelvis practically grinding up against his nose and lips. You delicately place your hands on his shoulders as he admires you.

“Let me see that cute little ass of yours again, babydoll”

Then suddenly you are spun around and he grips the strings of your bikini bottoms slowly pulling them down. As he does, he kisses the bear skin that’s being revealed to him until his lips are consuming your ass. You let out a sigh, arching your back slightly as his mouth finds your core. He dives in, placing his hands on the meat of your ass and nuzzling into your cheeks. His soft lips began to kiss your folds, and you buck up against his face. He growls against you, groping your cheeks and diving in to taste you. His mouth and tongue finds your clit and he begins to lap at it. He’s so hungry for you. So desperate to drink up your juices like a sweet nectar. Your legs quiver slightly and Joel notices. He wraps his hands around the front of your thighs, steadying you , while simultaneously pulling you closer to his mouth. He pulls back quickly, replacing his mouth with his fingers. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves feverishly, cooing as you moan and whine.

“Tastes so good. So fucking good baby.” He whispers.

He mouths at your pussy, his saliva mixing with your juices, making you so wet. You’re throbbing into his mouth and he places a few chase kisses to your cunt, before pulling away. He takes his shirt off and tosses it aside. He gives your core a few more open mouth kisses then spins you around once more, and you take off your top. You slowly pull the dainty string, letting your bikini top fall off you and onto his lap. He moans, clutching the top in his hand. You move to straddle him and he tosses the top on the ground.

Before you can put your weight on him, he bucks his hips, taking his trunks off. His cock springs forward and he takes his incredible length in his hand. He slowly pumps himself and you lower your ass onto his thighs. You don’t quite sink into him yet, wanting to appreciate this moment with him. He cups your ass and you clasp the back of his neck. He leans forward to press feather light kisses along your jaw and neck. Then his actions get more aggressive as he starts to manipulate your breasts. You mewl and arch into him. Your entire body starts to slowly rock against his, teasing him with your wet core on his cock.

“Fuck I want you. I can feel ya. So wet.”

You nod, biting your lip and Joel loves his hand down in between your legs again. He plays with your clit for a moment, before sinking a finger in you. You buck up on him, and steady yourself on his shoulders. He pumps his finger into you, loving the way your heat and juices consume his digit. He adds another one, and you feel so incredibly full.

“You ready for me?” Joel murmurs against your neck.

“Mhmm, please Joel. I’ve wanted this for so long!” You gasp as he removes his fingers. He wraps his hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance. The tip pokes in, then you engulf the rest, taking his full length in you. He lets out a staggering moan as he works his lips down to your collarbone and valley of your breasts. You move your hips, slowly grinding on his cock and your tits bounce in his face. He chuckles and looks up at you. He sits back, holding your hips as you ride him.

“Fucking look at you girl. So gorgeous my god.”

You giggle in return, feeling up your body and playing with your boobs.

“That’s it, put on a little show for me.”

You bounce on him, continuing to feel your body and then you touch your clit, swirling it around in between your fingers. You let out a long, breathy moan, tilting your head back.

“Mmm Joel, Joel Joel Joel….” You hang his name as he squeezes your ass harshly. He helps you move, shoving your body onto his cock and moving his hands to hold your hips.

“That’s it. Oh my god you’re perfect…”

You learn back slightly, rolling your hips and tummy. He splays his hands over your waist, his breath hitching. He loves watching you move. He loves how you feel and needs more. Joel moves expertly to stand up, keeping himself buried inside you and, placing you on your back, you yelp as he lays you on the couch. He dives in for your lips again. He crawls on top of you, wasting no time shoving his length into you. Cupping your face. He rocks his hips, his cock filling you up once again. He speeds up, drilling into you. Your legs fold up to your chest, giving him better access to your pussy. As he thrusts into you, his beautiful eyes meet your own, his gaze thirsty for more. He rests his forehead against you and pants.

“You close?”

“If you touch me again. Play with me a little then I’ll come… please Joel…”

“Yeah? Like this baby?”

He aggressively rubs your core, his hand in sync with his hips. You nod and let out a series of incoherent babbles. You move against his hand and cock, a pool of ecstasy filling your stomach and drowning your senses. Your heat builds and builds until you break. You clench down around him, your breath leaving you as Joel’s mouth falls onto your own. With a few more of his own pumps, his seed is spilling inside you.

“Oh shit” he curses “fuck baby it’s just you felt so good shit I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine I’m on the pill.”

“You sure it’s ok?

You nod and he kisses you deeply, lips pressing firmly on your own. You moan, holding his face.

“You just might be the most perfect thing on the planet, ya know that?”

“Whatever you say.” you chuckle

“I know this may come off as formal given what we just did, but I really wanna take you out for a drink sometime. Like an actual date. If you want?”

“Yes Joel, I’d like that very much.”

꧁•☀︎•꧂

[dear-aubade]

Oh my good God your writing is absolutely fabulousssss 🤤 The way you write about Joel and his baby girl is sending me into orbit!!! Genuinely I cannot wait to read more of your work 😍 Do you think that you would ever do one where Joel comforts his baby if she got jealous? There’s a few different ways this could go but the idea of him comforting his sweet girl when she’s upset over something like seeing another woman in Jackson hit on him or something makes me think terrible, nsfw thoughts 😆🩷🎀

This was so fun to write, thank you for the ask anon! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: When you see a woman making a move on Joel and storm out in a flurry of tears, Joel realizes exactly how much he’s been neglecting his baby. He’s determined to make it up to you.

Notes: Smut, oral (f receiving), dom!joel, sub!reader, praise, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, babygirl, little girl, honey, darling, any fanfic-typical nickname Joel has for reader), jealous!reader, oblivious!joel (sorta), semi-public, implied age gap

You were fuming.

It was Tommy’s birthday and Maria had decided to invite the entire town of Jackson to the Tipsy Bison that night to celebrate. The bar was lively with the hum of chatter and small talk, the smell of whiskey and beer curling in the air, paper lanterns hung in a zig-zag pattern across the ceiling.

Normally you would have loved to go out like this. It gave you an excuse to dress up all pretty and do your makeup, maybe even get Joel to abandon his stone-faced stoic facade and go dancing with you after he’d had a couple drinks.

Except for the fact that the night had gotten off to a horrible start.

The past few weeks Joel had been busy. Very busy. Which you didn’t blame him for, of course—he was one of the town’s strongest working men and the people needed him to help with patrol. But recently a worker at the Bison had sprained his ankle and Seth had asked Joel to help cover him while he healed, which meant that now Joel was gone during the day for patrol and several nights during the week while he fixed barstools or whatever it was Seth had him working on.

The nights he actually was home, he usually went straight to bed with you after placing a kiss to your lips and gave a murmured, “Goodnight.” You couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched you, really touched you.

And you knew that Joel was a good man, that the reason he was so exhausted all the time now was because he was doing work for the community.

It didn’t stop his girl from getting a little needy and missing him.

Tonight you had taken advantage of the outing. You’d made sure to do your makeup immaculately, with your lips glossed and eyes lined to make them look all doe-like and pretty, how Joel liked them. You’d curled your hair and pinned the top part of it back in a half-updo with a white satin bow. You’d even worn a new dress that you’d traded for a couple days before. It was baby pink, hugging your bust and waist before flaring out the smallest bit around your hips. The short hem paired with your white heels showed off your legs very nicely.

You’d thought that maybe if you put enough effort into your appearance tonight, Joel would want to touch you no matter how tired he was.

Unfortunately, so much self-grooming had caused you and Joel to be a little late, which meant rushing out the door and speed-walking over to the Bison so you two weren’t more tardy than you already were, which meant there wasn’t time for Joel to appreciate his princess in her pretty dress.

Now that you guys were here at the bar, he was hardly looking at you. His large hand was still holding yours so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd, but he hadn’t even said anything about how you looked tonight. Did he even care? It made you want to whine and cry or stamp your little heeled foot against the floor until he paid attention to you.

But you didn’t. You wanted to be his good girl…and you didn’t want to ruin Tommy’s birthday, either, by making a scene.

Joel kept craning his neck around to look for his brother, and when he found Tommy and Maria standing at the bar, he guided you over with him with a hand on the small of your back.

“Joel!” Tommy exclaimed, expression bright as he embraced his brother—overly bright. It was clear he’d already had a few glasses.

Joel slapped Tommy on the back. “Happy Birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Tommy,” you said softly right as Maria was thanking the both of you for coming.

“What did you get me?” Tommy asked his brother.

Joel grunted as he put his hand back on your waist. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

“A book? A shirt? A razor? I’ve been needin’ a new one of those, mine broke just yesterday—“

“Boots,” Joel said. “Traded for ‘em last week. They’re back at the house.”

Tommy grinned. “Awe, now you’ve just ruined the surprise.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Tommy—“

“Oh, that reminds me! There’s somethin’ I need to show you real quick.” Tommy turned to you. “Mind if I borrow him for a few?”

You frowned. “Well—“

Without waiting for a response Tommy dragged Joel away, heading for some unseen destination across the bar. You couldn’t tell where they were going from your position in the crowd. You tried not to wilt.

A moment later Maria handed you a drink. “You look nice,” she commented.

“At least someone noticed,” you grumbled, taking a sip. The alcohol burned your throat.

“Joel giving you trouble?”

You shrugged.

Maria waited for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, she pressed. “I was going to go sit with some friends over there.” She gestured to her right somewhere. “Want to join?”

You sighed, then shook your head. “I don’t think so. Thank you Maria, but I don’t want my mood to infect your guys’.”

“Well…alright. If you’re sure.” And with that, she left you to your own devices.

It had been hours. Or…maybe a half hour. Forty five minutes? You weren’t sure. Enough time for you to have made a home for yourself on one of the barstools with several now-empty liquor glasses in front of you.

And Joel still wasn’t back.

Your toes were starting to go numb in your tight shoes even just sitting there, so you huffed and got to your feet—you only swayed a little. You were determined to find Joel and make him dance with you.

You weaved in and out of the crowd as you searched. Where had Tommy taken Joel? Was it….this way? That way? You couldn’t think very clearly right now. How many glasses had you….?

You finally spotted the back of Joel’s head through the throng of partygoers. Your eyes lit up and you started to move in that direction, ready to tug on Joel’s hand and stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. Why had you even been upset again?

You squirmed between two people to move closer and—

There was a woman beside Joel. She had honey brown hair and keen, wise eyes. She was older than you—much older. Closer to Joel’s age. Her name was Sharon…Shannon…something?

You froze as she laughed at something someone said and put a hand on Joel’s arm.

Your eyes went wide and you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or start crying. Joel suddenly turned his head and met your gaze.

Your body decided for you. Tears pooled on your lashes and you turned to duck out of the bar before you made even more of a fool of yourself.

The crisp, cool night air greeted you as you escaped the Tipsy Bison’s warmth. You sniffled and kept walking, not even really sure where you were going.

“Darlin’?” Joel’s voice reached you and you heard footsteps from behind.

You sped up.

But Joel was Joel, and so he quickly caught up to you with his long legs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Not now, Joel.”

“Hey.” He grabbed you and turned you around, his grip gentle but firm. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“Get offa me,” you protested, trying to push away.

“What’re you…” He paused. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you whined. You broke out of his grip and kept walking, turning around the corner of the Bison and walking around the back of the building. “Leave me alone.”

“Baby.”

At his tone you stopped. Even though you were embarrassed and upset and didn’t want to see his face, a small part of you still wanted to be obedient.

He came around your front and lifted your chin so you were looking up at him. His stern gaze melted away and his eyes softened. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. “What’s wrong?” You sniffled and took a step back. His hand fell away.

“What’s wrong is that you don’t pay attention to me anymore. You work all day and all night and it feels like you hardly have time for me now. I even got all dressed up tonight for you, wore a new dress and everything, a-and you didn’t say anything, didn’t even look—“

You blinked and more tears ran down your face. “And now I jus’ saw Sharon or Shannon or whoever that woman was flirting with you, and you didn’t do anything—”

You cut off as your face crumpled. You looked down, shivering from the cold.

“I know she’s older and…and probably smarter, and she—”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart.” Joel tenderly gripped your upper arms, ducking his head to try and get you to meet your gaze. “What…what are you thinkin’? You think she could ever compare to my babygirl?”

You opened your mouth to respond but he prattled on before you had the chance. “The moment she touched me I pulled away. I don’t know if you didn’t see or what, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often. It’s just until Seth’s friend heals up that I’ll be gone. I should be out of bar duty by next week.”

“And what about tonight?” you whined.

At that, Joel smiled. “You really think I didn’t notice how pretty you looked, sweet girl? I was trying not to get a hard on in the middle of Tommy’s party.”

You almost smiled. Almost. But you were still mad about Shannon, and you still felt needy and lonely and you were pretty sure you were way more than tipsy and you still kind of felt like punching Joel in his handsome face a little bit.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry that I made my baby feel alone….and needy…and neglected…” He punctuated each word with a kiss to a different part of your face—your cheek, your nose, your lips.

Now that you were alone, Joel’s eyes roved over your body shamelessly. “Look at you….” he cooed. “So beautiful.” His hands fell to your waist. “And this pretty new dress.” His eyes looked lower, down to your feet, and he grinned. “Your shoes match your bow. You said you dressed up just for me?”

You sniffed and nodded. “M’still a little mad at you.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He kissed your jaw. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

That sobered you up real quick. “Wh….here?”

“Why not?” Joel pressed your back to the wall of the building. “No one’s around.”

“But someone could—”

“Shhh.” He kissed lower this time, at the skin beneath your jaw. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He pressed a kiss lower. “I’m going to make my little girl feel good right here and now so she doesn’t have to wait another minute.” Another kiss. “After that I’m gonna carry her back to our bed….” Another. “And there I’m gonna make love to her until she gets absolutely sick of it.”

You squirmed as his beard dragged along your skin the lower and lower he kissed, lips now at your collarbone. “I-I don’t know if I’d ever get sick of it….”

He nipped at your skin and you gasped. “Then you had better have enough energy to be up all night, sweetheart.”

Joel kissed down the center of your clavicle, the middle of your breasts, down your tummy over your dress….soon he was kneeling before you, looking up to meet your gaze with those dark brown eyes of his.

“Joel—” you said, still a bit uncertain.

“Lean back against the wall, babygirl.”

You hesitated, but obeyed. Any complaints or protests you had against the situation dissolved as soon as Joel lifted one of your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

His lips traveled upward. He kissed along your calf….the inside of your knee…your thigh….soon he pressed the skirt of your dress up to your waist.

He paused.

Then:

“Oh, sweetheart.” It was nearly a groan. His eyes flicked up to yours. “No panties?”

You smiled shyly. The truth was you’d forgotten almost entirely about that—it had been a quick last minute decision to forego wearing anything beneath your dress, but seeing his eyes dark with lust now….you definitely did not regret it.

“I’m a little glad I didn’t have time to look you over properly before coming here,” he murmured, lips skimming your hip bone. “If I knew you weren’t wearin’ anything under this we would have never left the house.”

You could feel his breath on your inner thigh now as he moved his head and you whimpered. “Joel.”

“Shhh, no whining honey, ‘less it’s about how good it feels.” He placed a kiss right above the patch of skin above your bud. “Just let that pretty head of yours empty—I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever you were about to say in response left your head as Joel hiked your leg over his shoulder and started to lick at your clit.

You gasped and one of your hands threaded through his salt and pepper curls to steady yourself. His tongue flicked against your swollen, needy button teasingly. Your lower belly simmered with the heat of crackling coals.

Joel’s large hand found purchase on your hip and he squeezed in response to each noise that escaped you. He was soon embracing you with his full mouth, tongue licking between your folds, at your bud, into you. It was as if he was everywhere, helping himself to your taste and enjoying every bit of it.

“Oh,” you sighed, pushing your hips into his mouth involuntarily and his head bobbed in time with his motions.

Each flick, each twist of his tongue had you nearly writhing, and you were pretty sure it was only Joel’s hand on your hip keeping you from collapsing.

“Joel, I—it’s—oh please, I can’t—” You were babbling mindlessly, head empty, unsure of what you were even really saying.

Joel just chuckled against you, the vibrations running through your core making you gasp.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmured as he sucked and licked at your wetness. “‘S like you were made for me—just keep rockin’ your hips—oh, good girl.”

He lapped at you as you let out a high-pitched whine. You were there, right there, with his nose nudging at your clit and his warm wet tongue pushing into you and he was shaking his head and oh—

You bit your knuckle to muffle your moan as you came, your folds drenched, your lower belly warm, your legs shaking, your clit tingling.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Joel kept murmuring praises as you came down from your high, hips squirming from oversensitivity.

He placed soft and slow kisses on your right hip before rising and gripping your waist. Your legs nearly buckled.

Joel chuckled and caught you as you stumbled a bit, sweeping you up in his arms, the ease in which he lifted you making your belly swoop.

He pressed his lips to your hairline in an achingly sweet kiss. “How’s my girl feeling now?”

You let out a happy hum and rested your head on his shoulder. “Better.”

“Good.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he started to walk, carrying you like you were a princess. You supposed that you were, in a sort of way. You were his.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep yet, babygirl.”

You hadn’t even realized that you’d been drifting off until he had said something. It wasn’t your fault. The gentle sway of him walking with you had rocked you to sleep…

“Sorry.” You yawned.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, honey,” he said. He held you closer. “And you gotta stay awake with me. I got a lot more I wanna do to apologize to my princess.”

The low voice he used made your heart flutter.

You were in for a very long night.

[deen-djarin]

Soft Reins — Day One

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Groundskeeper/Rancher! Joel Miller x City Girl! Reader

Summary: Her family made her want to leave, Joel made her want to stay.

Tags: Age Gap (50s/20s), No Outbreak, Familial Tension, Mentions of infidelity, Snobby and judgy family

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: HELLOOOO okay so this is my second fic heheh and i’m hoping i can stick with it and actually finish it because its definitely a huge learning curve for me lol. i’ve had this idea brewing in my head for months and i’ve gotten to the point where i just gotta write it. tysm for my beta readers ily all and also ty for reading this!

Summer 2025

You're behind the wheel, cruising down a winding road framed by towering pine trees—a striking contrast to the usual backdrop of glass and steel skyscrapers. Ahead of you, a line of sleek, high-end cars snakes along the road, unmistakably belonging to your wealthy, highbrow extended family.

Jackson Hole, Wyoming isn’t the kind of place you'd expect to find people like them—it’s a little too middle-of-nowhere America. And yet, that’s exactly what draws them in.

Nestled in the valley is a ranch—but not your typical one. This is a luxury dude ranch, “Silver Spur Ranch” where the wealthy come to sample the Western lifestyle. Well, sort of. The real West usually doesn’t come with spa treatments and gourmet meals. Still, there are horses, rustic cabins, and sweeping mountain views which are pretty close enough for them.

“Noah would love this,” your mother sighed, gazing out at the sweeping valley.

Your neck stiffened at the mention of his name.

“Can you not bring him up, please, Mom?” you murmured, eyes locked on the winding road ahead.

“I can’t help it, hun. He became the son I never had,” she replied, throwing up her hands in mock surrender.

��Well, he’s not. And we’re not together anymore,” you said, sharper now. “So I’d really appreciate it if you could just... let it go.”

She fell silent—not in compliance, but in calculation. You knew her too well to believe otherwise. She was building her next line, rehearsing it in her head like a lawyer preparing closing arguments.

“I just don’t get it,” she finally said, her voice soft but edged. “You were with him for what, five years?” A beat passed before she pushed forward again, “Have your father and I not set a good example for you? Even your grandparents—fifty years, happy as ever! And you gave that good man up just because—”

“Cheating is not a just because reason, Mom,” you snapped, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles went white.

She waved her hand like she was swatting a fly. “Well, no, of course not. But Noah is a good man. He just made a... lapse in judgment.”

You laughed once, hollow and humorless. “A lapse in judgement? A lapse is forgetting an anniversary. Not sleeping with someone else. For months.”

Your mother looked away, lips pursed, like she couldn’t quite argue but still didn’t agree. The silence between you thickened, stretching across the cabin of the car and the valley beyond.

“I’m just saying, honey, a man like Noah—he’s hard to come by.”

You grimaced inwardly. Of course she’d say that. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around your mother’s unwavering loyalty to him.

Sure, he was polished. He came from old money—more than your family ever had. He knew how to dress, how to charm your mother with just the right words at just the right moments. He wasn’t bad looking either. On paper, he was perfect.

But inside? He was hollow. And for the last stretch of your relationship, so were you.

The rot had been setting in for months, invisible at first, until it was all you could feel. Then came the final blow: you found out he had been cheating. Days before he proposed.

And still—he did it. With your entire family watching, he dropped to one knee, smiling like nothing was wrong. A last-ditch effort to lock you in before the truth could catch up to him.

But you said no.

And you walked away.

It hadn’t gone over well. There were whispers, long stares, your father refusing to speak to you for weeks. Your mother never stopped calling it a “mistake” you’d made in the heat of emotion.

But it wasn’t emotion. It was clarity. Maybe for the first time.

The trip was meant to celebrate your grandparents’ anniversary—fifty years together. A milestone that, given what you knew about how awful men could be, felt almost impossible to grasp.

The entire extended family would be there, and you could hardly wait to be cornered with questions about your recent breakup and failed engagement. For seven whole days. A real vacation.

To say the timing was less than ideal would be generous. You could’ve opted out—God knows you wanted to—but that would’ve only fueled the whispers. And despite everything, under different circumstances, you would have wanted to be there. You loved your grandparents. They were the rare ones in your family who didn’t judge, didn’t press. Maybe it was because, unlike their children and grandchildren, they hadn’t grown up with money. There was a softness to them that hadn’t been bred out by status or social games.

They were the reason you came. Not the charade. Just them.

The ranch finally came into view, peeking through the tall trees like something out of a movie. It had a rustic charm, but you could tell it had been carefully renovated—polished just enough to suit the tastes of its upscale clientele.

Your car slowed as you passed through the front gate and followed the long gravel driveway toward the main cabin. The second your tires came to a stop, you were already reaching for the door handle, eager to escape the tension that had been simmering in the car with your mother.

You stepped out and made a beeline for the trunk, popping it open and reaching for your suitcase. But just as your hand closed around the handle, another—larger—hand landed over it.

“I got this, sugar,” came a warm, slow drawl, thick with a Texas accent.

You froze.

He was close—close enough for you to catch the scent of sandalwood, sun, and flannel. You instinctively stepped back, your eyes scanning upward.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. The kind of man who looked like he actually belonged on a ranch. You caught a glimpse of his profile: strong nose, weathered skin, hair streaked with silver that matched the salt-and-pepper scruff along his jaw and mustache.

“Long drive?” his voice broke through your thoughts, low and easy.

“Huh? Oh—yeah. It’s, uh... pretty far from, well—everywhere,” you said with an awkward chuckle.

He didn’t laugh, but his eyes lingered on you for a beat—curious, unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached down and hoisted your bags, one in each hand like they weighed nothing.

“Welcome to Silver Spur,” he said with a small, polite smile.

And just like that, he turned and walked off, disappearing with your luggage before you could even think of a reply.

The main lounge buzzed with the energy of your entire family gathered together. The interior was stunning—tall ceilings draped in dark wood, a grand stone fireplace, and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a breathtaking view of the land. You stood by your cousin Amy, the one you were closest to growing up. You’d shared so many memories, but things had shifted a bit since she married and had a baby. You were still close, just not as much as before.

One of the staff passed around welcome drinks—icy cold lemonade. You accepted with a grateful smile.

“How are you holding up?” Amy asked, her voice full of concern. You sighed. “So far, so good. You?”

Amy leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Lily wouldn’t stop fussing the entire way here, and Justin was no help,” she murmured, glancing over at her husband, who was bouncing their three-year-old daughter on his lap. “He somehow always appears to be there when she’s calm, though.” Amy chuckled softly, and you followed suit, shaking your head.

A sound of glass clinking drew everyone's attention to the man standing on the small stage by the piano. He looked strikingly similar to the guy who’d taken your luggage earlier—maybe a bit younger. Next to him stood a stunning woman with dark skin and a warm, radiant smile.

“Howdy, y’all! Welcome to Silver Spurs Ranch!” he called out, his voice smooth and welcoming. “I’m Tommy, and this is my wife, Maria,” he gestured to the woman beside him, who waved her hand in greeting. “We’ll be your ranch hosts during your stay.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man from earlier walking toward the stage and standing right next to it on the corner. You couldn’t tear your eyes away once you realized he was there.

“You like him too, huh?” Amy whispered, leaning closer.

“What are you talking about?” you whispered back, your voice a mix of surprise and mock offense.

Amy giggled, eyes twinkling. “What? You’re free now!” She gestured to her family with a smirk. “I, on the other hand…” She trailed off, pointing to her husband and daughter.

“You’re being ridiculous. We just got here,” you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes.

“Hey, he’s hot, so…” Amy teased.

You cut her off, whispering, “Amy, shut up.”

She laughed quietly. “Alright, alright!” she relented.

After a brief pause, as everyone focused on the ranch hosts listing activities for the stay, Amy leaned in again. “I didn’t know Silver Spurs Ranch came with a silver fox cowboy,” she whispered.

You bit back a laugh. “I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

“That one over there is my brother, Joel,” Tommy said, pointing to the man standing a little off to the side. Joel. The name felt just right for him. He offered a small wave before slipping his hands back into his pockets, his gaze scanning the room.

“You’ll be seeing a lot of him,” Tommy continued, a proud smile on his face. “He takes care of the land and will be leading some of your excursion activities.”

You couldn’t help but watch Joel for a moment longer. There was something about him—steady, grounded.

Amy leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I gotta admit, he’s got that ‘I work with my hands’ kind of charm.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “You mean he’s got the ‘I wake up at 5 a.m. to ride horses and shovel dirt’ look?”

Amy grinned. “Exactly.” She looked back at Joel, her gaze lingering for a moment too long. “He’s definitely got that whole ‘silent, mysterious cowboy’ thing going on.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny that there was something magnetic about him. Not in a typical ‘movie star’ way, but in a way that made you want to know more. Maybe it was the confidence that seemed to radiate from him without ever needing to say much.

At that moment, Joel turned his head and caught your eye. His gaze flickered toward you briefly, almost like he was assessing you. It wasn’t a stare, just a quiet acknowledgment, but it still sent a little pulse of awareness through you.

Amy caught it too, her smirk widening. “Uh-huh. I see that look. He noticed you.”

“What look?” you asked, feigning innocence. You turned back toward the stage as Tommy and Maria continued talking, but your mind kept wandering back to Joel.

“Don’t act coy. He definitely noticed you,” Amy teased. “You’re going to have fun here, I can tell.”

You glared playfully at her. “Just because I glanced at him doesn’t mean I’m about to go on a horseback ride into the sunset with him.”

Amy let out a short laugh. “Not yet, anyway.”

Maria's voice cut through the conversation, bringing everyone's attention back to the front. "Alright, everyone, feel free to explore the ranch, or just take in the view. We know it's a long journey to get here so your rooms is ready, and dinner will be served in an hour."

As the crowd began to move in different directions, you felt a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity swirling inside you. You were supposed to be here to relax, but for some reason, everything—especially Joel—seemed to be pulling you in.

Amy nudged you with her elbow again. "So... what's the plan? You gonna go for it or just pretend you're not interested?"

You sighed, trying to hide your grin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, sure," Amy teased, "keep telling yourself that."

Dinner was set like something out of a magazine. A long, weathered farm table stretched down the center of the dining hall, dressed in ivory linens, wildflowers, and flickering candles that made the roasted dishes gleam like still life paintings. Your grandparents sat proudly at the head, fingers intertwined, laughing like they hadn’t seen fifty years go by. The rest of the family filled the table in loud, familiar clusters, the wine flowing too easily, the conversations layered over one another.

You were somewhere in the middle, boxed in by a distant cousin on one side and a sea of aunts and uncles on the other. You kept your head down, halfheartedly pushing food around your plate, bracing for the inevitable.

It didn’t take long.

“So… no Noah this year?” Aunt Debby asked, tilting her head with feigned casualness.

“Nope,” you replied, stabbing a perfectly innocent carrot.

“I figured we’d see him again. Didn’t you two usually take trips like this together?” someone else chimed in. A cousin’s wife, maybe—you didn’t bother to look.

“Not anymore,” you hummed, your hand curling into a fist beneath the table.

“That’s a shame. I really thought we’d be getting a wedding invite this year,” Aunt Debby said, swirling her wine with theatrical sadness.

“Well, there won’t be one anytime soon.”

Uncle Rick joined in without looking up. “Still can’t believe you let that one go. Good job, good family, good-looking.”

“Not good at staying faithful,” you muttered.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Aunt Debby asked, all syrup and fake concern.

You didn’t think before the following words that came from your mouth, you’re fed up by all the judgement coated with faux sugar coated concerns, You looked up. “I said, he cheated. For months. Before he proposed.”

The table fell quiet. Someone clinked their fork against a plate, a few chairs shifted.

Aunt Margaret recovered first. “Well... relationships are complicated. Everyone makes mistakes. Your mother and I both—”

“I know,” you cut in, turning your gaze to your mom. “You’ve made that very clear.”

The silence was heavier this time.

You folded your napkin, set it on your plate, and stood. The scrape of your chair on the wooden floor sounded louder than it should have.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you murmured.

“Oh honey, don’t be dramatic—” your mother sighed.

“I’m not. I just need air,” you said, sharper now, and without waiting for a response, walked out into the night.

The door swung shut behind you with a quiet thud.

You slipped off into the dark, wandering past the edge of the cabins until you found a quiet spot beside what looked like the horse stables. You needed to be somewhere out of sight—far from the dining hall, far from your family. Because after all that, you needed a smoke. And if anyone in your family ever found out, it’d be a full-blown intervention before sunrise.

From your pocket, you pulled out a small tin, flipping it open with muscle memory and placing a cigarette between your lips. You were just about to flick your lighter when—

“You know smokin’ ain’t allowed on this property.”

You jumped so hard the cigarette nearly fell from your mouth. “Jesus—fuck!”

You turned and saw him. Joel. Standing half in shadow, half lit by moonlight, looking more amused than stern.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, chuckling.

You let out a breath, your hand over your heart. “Yeah, well, you did.”

He nodded toward the cigarette. “You still gonna light that?”

You hesitated. “Can I?”

Without answering, Joel reached out and gently took hold of your arm, guiding you farther back into the shadows—near a thick row of bushes. Your heart stuttered a bit from the contact, the feel of his large calloused hand against your soft skin, and you were suddenly glad it was too dark for him to see the way your face flushed.

“Cameras,” he murmured. “You’re safe here. Go on.”

“Thanks,” you exhaled, grateful, and finally lit the cigarette. You took a long drag, the smoke easing something tight in your chest.

The night wrapped around you, quiet and still, save for the soft hum of cicadas and the slow rhythm of your breath. Joel didn’t move far—he stayed just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching the horizon like he had nowhere else to be.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, gentle. “Saw you stompin’ out here like you were fixin’ to do some damage.”

You laughed under your breath. “Might’ve, if someone hadn’t stopped me.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you in that steady way that invited you to keep going.

You sighed, watching the smoke curl upward. “They think I ruined my perfect life. That I threw it all away because I said no to a proposal.”

Joel tilted his head slightly, listening.

“He cheated on me,” you murmured. “For months. And then had the nerve to propose like nothing happened.”

Joel let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a real catch.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah. All sunshine and rainbows, that one.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was a steadiness to him—like he knew how to be still in a way most people didn’t.

After a moment, he shifted. “Listen, uh… it ain’t really my business, but—sounds to me like you dodged a bullet.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Joel looked at you, earnest beneath all the roughness. “You did the right thing.”

You glanced over at him. “Thanks… Joel, right?” you asked as if his name hasn’t been echoing in your head eversince Tommy said them.

He smiled, soft and crooked. “Yeah.”

“And I’m—” you said your name, almost shyly.

He repeated it back to you, the sound of it low and unhurried as it rolled off his tongue.

You gaze up at the sky, the stars shining much clearer here than in the city. It’s mesmerizing—you can’t remember the last time you saw more than two tiny dots scattered above.

Slowly, you sit down on the grass, and Joel lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re gonna ruin that pretty dress,” he teases.

You smile up at him. “I don’t really give a damn.”

He grins at that, then joins you, sitting down beside you.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” you murmur.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m actually obligated to keep an eye on troublesome guests.”

You turn to look at him. His serious face slowly breaks into a smirk, and you chuckle softly. “Asshole,” you murmur.

Taking another drag of your cigarette, you sigh. “Must be nice, living out here, huh?”

Joel nods, eyes still fixed on the stars. “Gets real quiet. Makes it easier to think.”

You glance down, voice soft. “I could use a little of that.”

He looks over at you, expression unreadable for a moment. Then, quietly: “Then stay a while.”

You smiled to yourself and kept your eyes on the stars. The silence between you and Joel was comfortable, but there was something simmering beneath it—something you weren’t sure you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

“The stars are beautiful out here,” you murmured.

Joel let out a quiet chuckle. “Bet you don’t see many of those back in the city, huh?”

You shook your head with a faint smile. “Kind of forgot how many there actually are.”

“They’ve always been there,” you said softly, more to yourself than him. “Just hard to see when the sky’s all polluted.”

Joel hummed low in his throat. “That sounds like a metaphor for a lotta things in life.”

You turned your head toward him, a light laugh escaping you. “You always been this wise?” He grinned, subtle and a little self-deprecating, eyes still on the sky. “Nah. Just old.”

That made you giggle, the sound easy and real, and something in Joel’s expression softened. Then, without a word, he pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get you back before they send a search party.”

You hesitate, just for a second, then take his hand. His grip is solid and warm, and when he helps you up, he doesn’t let go right away.

You both stand there for a moment—closer than before, still caught in that soft, uncertain pull—before he clears his throat and lets his hand fall away.

“This way,” he murmurs, nodding toward the path.

You follow him into the quiet dark, heart beating a little louder than before.

Joel walked with you back toward the main cabin where the guest rooms were. You led him through the quiet hallways, the old wood creaking underfoot, until you stopped in front of your door.

“Well, uh… this is me,” you said, a little awkwardly, your hand hovering near the doorknob.

Joel nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Get some rest. Breakfast’s at seven,” he said, then added, almost hesitantly, “Me and Tommy are leading a horseback ride along the river tomorrow. If you feel like joining.” His eyes flicked from the floor up to yours, and for a moment, you swore he looked almost nervous.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Alright then. See you tomorrow, city girl.” He started backing away, slow and casual, and you turned to open your door. “See you tomorrow,” you murmured.

Just as he turned the corner, you called out softly, “Joel?”

He stopped and looked back, quick like he’d been waiting for it.

“Thank you… for tonight,” you said, meaning it.

He nodded once, that same quiet smile still on his face. “Anytime, sugar.”

Then he disappeared down the hall, and you stood there for a moment longer, heart just a little too full.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

a/n: thank you so much for reading guys <3 i know its a short one but i’m just laying out the vibes and tone of the series before we get to the good stuff on the upcoming chapters!! your feedback is greatly appreciated!! ily all

[r11yh1soka]

THE KNOWN RISKS

joel miller x f!pregnant reader

part 2! part 1 is here-> part 1

masterlist

Summary: When jackson is thriving, growing and improving, it shouldn’t be a surprise to you when contagious conditions embrace you too. But it does. And it scares the shit out of you.

tags/includes 🏷️: pregnancy, jackson joel, dina & ellie relationship, agegap (joel is 56, reader is 34), angst, domestic joel, arguments, mention of sarah and childloss, not proofread sorry

—

It didn’t take long for you to start showing. It happened pretty early on in your pregnancy, Dr. Lilah told you that she believed you to be five weeks along when you found out and now you’re 14 weeks, starting your second trimester. Your pregnant stomach was protruding even in jackets now thought it confused you, you remember Maria around this stage with her first baby and you don’t remember it being this noticeable.

You were thrilled, of course but there was a less thrilling part that came with you showing this much. The stares. You and Joel already deal with your fair share of staring when you’re out together in Jackson, hand in hand, that’s the most amount of affection the two of you are comfortable with in public yet people act like you’re doing a lot worse. You get it, you and Joel have a significant age difference and it’s shocking for some people that Joel is even still capable of getting you pregnant at this age.

You’re walking through the snow, your boots cracking down on the ice beneath your feet. It’s icier out than usual but you don’t pay it much mind. You hold on tight to the canned goods you’re carrying, hoping to trade it in for some wood. You asked Joel pretty early on if he would mind making the crib himself, you wanted it to be special even though he could have just searched a house for it or probably found one in Jackson. He agreed of course and now you were hoping to get on that.

You walked yourself all the way towards the construction zone of Jackson, where most of the stores were hardware stores and construction gear stores. There was an open area, similar to a market where wood was treated and sold. To no one’s surprise,Tommy was already there working on some project for Jackson. He was at the work bench using some of the tools you could rent if you didn’t want to trade or work for them when he saw you approaching.

“Hey Tommy,” you smiled weakly with a short wave as he set down his tool and removed his glasses.

“Hey…what’re you doin’ out here?” He furrows his brows and looks you up and down before approaching you quickly for some reason.

“Need some wood, thought I could trade in these cans for it. We’re uh—well Joel is gonna start on the crib soon,” you pointed to your stomach as if it wasn’t obvious the crib was for the baby.

He was still looking at you like you were a flower about to be stepped on, you raise a brow when he didn’t reply and just came over next to you.

“Joel know you’re out here like this?” He questioned while pulling off his gloves and you narrowed your brows.

“No, he’s still asleep—what do you mean “like this”?” You cocked your head to the side as he reached for your hand and put the other on your side, turning you around carefully.

“You don’t see all this ice out here? I didn’t even let Maria come out today, we’re still tryna remove it all. Hell—Ellie and Jessie threw a fit when Dina tried to step out,” he shooks his head while guiding you the other way back towards your house.

“I have Joel’s work boots on, it’ll be fine—“

“Nah, Joel’ll kill me if he knew I saw you out here and didn’t take you back home. You could slip real bad out here…let Joel handle the wood situation, alright?” He huffs while stepping carefully, a little dramatically in your eyes but you went with it.

“I don’t see the big deal, I’ve been walking real careful. I just wanted to help,” you groaned and turned down the street to your house.

“I know you do but you’ve got a husband for a reason, don’t ‘ya?” He chuckles and you grant him half a smile.

“Yes I do. A husband who deserves a break sometimes—“

“You ask him if he needs a break? I doubt he does,” he shakes his head and helps you up the steps one by one.

“Well—“ before you can even reply the front door swings wide open and Joel is standing there, half dressed but fully pissed off.

Both you and Tommy stop, don’t even make it to the door. Tommy slides his hand to the back of his neck and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Looks like you’re in trouble,” he mutters and you roll your eyes at him before he goes on about his business and turns around.

“Thanks for bringing her back, Tommy.” He grumbles, Tommy waves his hand in response before getting the hell out of there.

Joel’s eyes never leave you once. His nose id all crinkled up and his brows are pulled together focused on you. You stand there with your bag still over your shoulder and he steps towards you, grabbing your hand and taking you back inside while snatching something off the door. When you’re both inside, he turns around and without saying a word shows you the poster he grabbed off the door.

“It’ll be icy out for the next few days, best stay inside unless necessary. Will update when we’ve got it all taken care of-Jackson Council”

You read the poster even though you already read it when they first put it up yesterday morning while you and Joel were headed out. Your breath hitches and Joel lowered it when he saw that you were done. His flannel is still unbuttoned from being half dressed, he doesn’t have his usual undershirt on, instead his chest is bare like he threw his clothes on and ran downstairs. His works pants are on that he clearly grabbed in a rush to find you.

“I…I just wanted to help,” you spoke first, breaking the ice between the two of you as he stares.

“You don’t need you to help. You’re already doing enough,” he groans and rubs his hand over his face.

“I haven’t done anything. You renovated the baby’s room, you added in another bathroom, you go out on patrols day in and out to scavenge stuff for the baby and I—“

“And you are growing our baby…keepin’ em safe in there is a part of that. You’re doing that twenty four seven, sweets,” he cuts off and sighs with his hands falling to his hips.

“I…just wanted to help.” You mumbled, chewing the inside of your cheek now as you grow more frustrated.

“I know that, baby but what I want is for you to focus just on this. I can handle every else, okay?” He places a gentle hand to your bump and it takes you a minute before you agree with a head nod.

“Christ, you scared me this morning…glad yall’re okay,” he whispers while stepped forward and sliding his hands around you instead

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you whispered while hugging him back, you could feel his heart racing against your chest.

His hair was still messy like he’d just woken up snd thrown his clothes on when Tommy brought you back. His heart racing against your chest still made you sad, he held onto you for a minute before letting you go and rubbing a hand over his face again.

“Just—just, sit down for a minute, alright?” He gestures towards the couch and you go and do just that, plopping down.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Joel. You’re just…you’re doing a lot for us, you come to bed late from working on the house and patrols for us…I wanted to help out with getting the wood,” you said to him and he sits down on the couch next to you and turns you towards him as he pulls your legs up onto his lap.

“I’m supposed to be doing a lot. That’s my job, baby,” he chuckles softly and removes his work boots off you.

“Took my boots too, huh?” He grins and you suddenly feel a little embarrassed.

“Thought it would help…walking on the ice and everything,” you replied and he just grunted in response.

His hands started rubbing your feet, you’d been complaining about how sore they were with them steadily getting swollen here and there. Joel’s hands were slightly shaking as he rubbed your feet and you’d didn’t notice it at first but when you did, your heart dropped. You could see the way he was slightly frowning, his heart was probably still racing and there was a crease in the space between his brows.

“Joel…?” You called out and this time he just sighed loudly in response.

“Was so fuckin’ scared…I thought something bad happened. Thought you fell out there and—“

“Hey hey hey…I’m okay. We’re okay,” you climbed onto his lap and disregarded the foot massage to reassure him.

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your bump, hoping the feel of it would reassure him more than you could with words. You kissed his temple as he kept his hand on your bump and your heart began to race this time. You felt absolutely terrible, you didn’t think it was possible for you to be the reason he was terrified but it clearly was. He whispered something else as you held him but you couldn’t quite hear it.

“I don’t…I don’t want you liftin’ a finger alright? Need you here, where you’re safe…I wanna do things right this time,” he insisted and you can hear the way his voice cracks. “I won’t fuck this up again, I can’t. I need ya safe…both ‘a you,” he whispers and you can hear the way he’s struggling with the idea of you doing anything but that.

“Joel…” you breathed out and slid your hands down to cup his jaw. “What happened to Sarah wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” You gulped, it wasn’t very often that you spoke about Sarah but when you did, it was only if it felt necessary.

He looked up at you, eyes heavy with the millions of terrible things he thought happened to you when he woke up this morning and you were nowhere to be found. He doesn’t answer you but he doesn’t need to, you’ll keep telling him that as much as you have to.

“I won’t do that again…’m sorry. I just know how tired you are, I didn’t want to feel so useless anymore.” You whispered to him and that snapped his head up.

“Useless? Sweetheart, look at you,” he gestured towards your growing stomach and you nodded like you knew already but it didn’t change how you felt.

“You been takin’ good care ‘a me for years…just let me take care of you. I’m not denying that I’m tired, I’m denying that it’s not worth it…every ache, every yawn, every bit of soreness…’ts all worth it. I promise,” he explains with his head tilted up, you nod your head with a weak smile and he sighs with relief.

“Let’s get you up to bed, know your feet’re killin’ ya,” he says before standing up with you scooped up in his arms to which you let out a little yelp.

“Joel your back!”

“Quiet. I ain’t that old, I can still carry ya up the stairs,” he remarks sharply and you keep your hands over his neck with a little laugh as he does exactly that.

“ ‘sides, my back won’t kill me but the heart attack you give me will,” he jokes and you roll your eyes at that but still feel a bit of jerking around at your heart.

He carries you up the stairs and takes you into the bedroom where he sets you down and starts taking off your jacket. A part of you thinks he just enjoys doing this in general, which you can’t blame him for because you love undressing him too. He reaches for your jeans, the ones that are actually his and starts unbuttoning them, you lift yourself up a bit and holding onto his shoulder to steady you as he pulls them down and off you.

He gets your shirt off next, you lift your arms for him and even though he tries to hide he, he loves how heavy your tits are getting already. He glances at them for half a second before turning around and grabbing one of his shirts from the closet, already knowing how much you preferred sleeping in his shirts and puts it on you.

“You’re not gonna lay with me?” You questioned when it didn’t look like he was going to undress next.

“Gotta go on patrol in an hour…I’ll be back before dinner,” he kissed your temple and you frowned a little but got into bed for his own sake.

“Be back soon. Stay here,” he whispers once you’re all under the covers.

“Be safe,” you whispered back and he kissed you for that.

He kisses you tenderly before turning around and leaving quietly.

He always liked to get there early, spend some time with his horse and go over the routes a final time before actually heading out.

—

Dinner rolled around and Joel still wasn’t back yet. You were sitting at the table with a bowl of chili and rice in front of you, waiting for his return. The bowl was no longer steaming and you refused to eat with Joel, despite your aching hunger.

As much as you wanted to grab your coat and head out there yourself to see what was taking so long, you couldn’t. And as time went on you grew progressively more nervous, you settled your hand over your bump as you waited for him but it provided no comfort for you.

It wasn’t until night had already fallen that Joel came in, boots dripping with snow, hair damp and his nose a little red with his cheeks. He took his boots off first and then placed them outside before turning to you while slipping off his jacket.

“Fuck—you didn’t eat? Ya didn’t have to wait for me, baby,” he shook his head as he hung up his coat and made his way over to you.

“I like eating dinner with you. We always eat dinner together,” you replied blankly and his eyes winced at that before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. I was looking for one of those baby carriers, like the one you saw in that magazine I brought back last week. I got some books too, found ‘em at one of the houses I cleared,” he grunted as he sat down across from you and you just nodded slowly.

“Food looks good—the hell?!” Joel’s eyes flash open when he looks across the table and sees you bursting into tears, cradling your face with your hands as you sob silently.

He sits there for a minute too stunned to move but after he snaps out of it, he’s up and crouching down by you in the chair. He’s wiping your tears with his rough and calloused hands while directing your face towards him.

“This is stupid,” you sniffled and wiped your face with your sleeve, scoffing at how emotional you’d gotten in mere seconds.

“What’s stupid? What’s goin’ on baby?” He questions while rubbing his hand against your cheek.

“I’m so hungry…but I wanted to wait for you to come back so I didn’t eat and now…I’m starving,” you complained while sniffling and he dropped his hand down to rub over your thigh.

“I don’t know why I’m crying! Fuck!” You exclaimed and kept wiping your face roughly.

“Hormones, baby. Our little fighter in there is determined to make you cry over anything, ‘m afraid,” he explains while gesturing towards your stomach and you exhaled loudly.

“Come on, let’s get some food in ya,” he rubs your thigh a final time before standing up and going back to his seat.

You start picking at your food, scooping up some of the chili in rice while doing your best to fight the tears because you’re quite literally in the process of eating. After a few minutes you’re finally settled and feeling embarrassed by your outburst that made no sense at all, Joel doesn’t seem to mind though he continues scarfing down your cooking like usual.

“Better?”

“Better.” You agreed with a head nod and he let out a low chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You snapped playfully and he did his best to conceal his grin.

“You’re the one who did this to me,” you mumbled before taking another spoonful.

“I don’t reckon you recall being the one who always asks me to finish inside when ‘m close, do ya?” He reminded and you gasped softly while shaking your head.

“You have no shame, Mr. Miller.”

“Neither do you, Mrs. Miller,” he jokes back and you both looked up smiling at each other like idiots.

You continue you dinner together and once you’ve calmed down fully he tells you about the things he found. He managed to find some pregnancy books for you two to read and the reason that he was late is because he went out a little farther than usual to check out another house in search of the baby carrier you wanted. After dinner was done, he took care of the dishes despite you saying you could. He told you to go wash up for bed while he cleaned up downstairs so that’s what you did.

You slipped into one of his big red tee’s, a little faded at the edges from age but you loved it. He was in the shower by the time you were in your bedroom and you couldn’t help but look at your bump in the full length mirror by the door. You observed yourself and your changing body, soon enough you’d need to find a bigger bra and maybe some maternity pants too. A part of you wished it was summer so you could just put on a dress and call it a day but it was much too cold for that.

You got into bed and just sat there waiting, you couldn’t sleep without Joel’s arms around you. When he was finally done showering, he came back in dressed in a plain white shirt and plaid pajama pants, grinning a little when he saw you just laying there.

“Waitin’ for me?” He hums and you nodded, he flicked the light off and crawled into bed with you.

“I missed you today,” you whispered when his arms draped over you from behind with one hand on your stomach.

“Missed you too…’specially after damn near giving me a heart attack this mornin’,” he grumbles with a gentle rub over your stomach.

“I said I was sorry Joel.” You reminded and he just laughed.

“I know…just don’t go doin’ that again. I don’t know what I’d do if you fell or somethin’ like that,” he insisted and you nodded in agreement.

“Well soon it feels like I won’t be able to even get out of bed on my own,” you huffed in annoyance and slightly turned over onto your back.

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look at me Joel! I’m only fourteen weeks…I’m showing more than Dina and Maria and they’re both farther along than me…I’m gonna be looking nine months pregnant sooner than later,” you informed with annoyance in your voice and he furrowed his brows.

“What’s wrong with that? I think you look beautiful,” he muttered and you just shook your head slow.

“I…I see how people look at us Joel. I dunno, I thought I’d have more time to enjoy the secrecy of the pregnancy before I had to deal with the staring,” you confessed and he sat him a little bit and stopped rubbing his hand over you.

“You are an adult and so am I. Fuck ‘em if this bothers them that much. I’m happy about this baby…’ts the greatest thing that could happen to me at this age,”

“Don’t make me cry, Miller. I won’t forgive you,” you shake your head and he laughs at that before leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“Can’t believe I’m gonna be a father again…greatest fuckin’ gift you could give me,” he continues rubbing his rough and calloused hands over your growing bump. "Whaddya think is in there? I think we got ourselves a princess on the way," he imagines and it would be a lie t say you hadn't thought about it.

"I dunno...was thinkin' a cowboy might be whats makin' me swell up so much. Maria told me that if I carry low it's a boy and if I'm carrying high it's a girl...don't think we can tell just yet though," you answered and he nodded.

He pulled you a bit closer to him, his arms fitting around you perfectly as he took comfort in the warmth of your bodies this close together. It didn't take long for you to doze off but per usual, you stirred awake every so often at the sound of him talking to your little prince or princess. You didn't know what he talked to them about and you never asked, the sound of his whispers was soothing enough to keep you asleep. You felt he was owed that privacy, especially with how cute you found it.

—

It'd been a week or so since your little "ice skating" stunt and you hadn't left the house since. They'd clear up the ice three days ago and left notices that it was safe for people to come out now but you were still sitting on the porch with a hot cup of tea, watching people go by. A few days ago you tried to pick up knitting but it didn't go to well so now you were back to drawing. You were sketching when you heard the wood of the stairs creak, you looked up and saw Tommy grinning.

"My big brother still got you on house arrest?" Tommy chuckles and pulled his gloves off while coming over to sit next to you.

"Well...kinda. I just don't want to worry him...we talked about it and I don't want him to worry more than he needs to so house arrest it is," you shrugged and set down your pencil.

"That's real kind of you...I know he probably don't say it enough but you're a mighty good woman. Feel like he thinks he's walkin' on eggshells the way he talks about getting everything ready for the baby," he nods his head after sitting down next to you.

"What about you? You ready to be an Uncle again?" you teased and he let out a heavy exhale.

" 'course. Can't help thinkin' about all these birthday's that'll be close together now," he laughed and rubbed the back of his aching neck.

"Oh I'm sure Joel is lookin' forward to that," you remarked sarcastically and Tommy joined you in laughing.

"So uh...Joel's still out on patrol, right? He'll be back in the hour?" Tommy changes the subject with a tone you don't necessarily favor on him.

"Mhm...is something up?"

"No...no, just send tell Joel to come speak to me at The Tipsy Bison, alright?" he stands up, letting out a forced exhale when he's on his feet and you nodded.

"Enjoy your house arrest," he gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder before taking off and leaving you to return to your drawings.

When Joel came around, you sent him to The Tipsy Bison even though you would have much rather preferred spending your alone time with him. Either way, it seemed important so he was off, promising not to take longer than necessary. Typically, your dynamic called for Joel making dinner and you preparing breakfast but now that you had so much time at home, you got started on dinner while he was out.

What you thought would take an hour at most turned into two. By two hours and a half, the platers were set, dinner was finished and you were hungry. Time was creeping towards three hours and you just couldn't take it anymore, you grabbed your coat from the closet and put on Joel's boots, not your own (for safety of course). You gulped as you opened the front door, all the ice had been cleared by the last thing you wanted was to jinx yourself.

You stepped out onto the porch and shut the door, when you went down the steps you took it one by one with your hand firm on the railing. The Tipsy Bison was a ten minute walk that you turned into damn near half an hour with how slow you were moving. You hadn't been scared to fall before but now that Joel had mentioned it, it became a new fear of yours.

It started to snow while you were out, you didn't move any faster but sometimes you did just pause and stand there. You looked around, hoping to find someone you recognize and ask for a hand but you never did. All you found were people who'd been giving you dirty looks for months now. You put your hand up on the buildings you walked by and your other hand around your bump, just incase you did fall you were hoping your arm would break the fall.

When you reached The Tipsy Bison, you realized that this is why the streets looked so empty out. It was packed as ever. You shook off the snow at the door and did your best to keep enough distance that people wouldn't bump into you while scanning the room for Joel. You looked to the bar and found him seemingly arguing with Tommy, they were going back and forth in a way you'd never seen before.

You wiped off the boots on the mat before walking towards them at a somewhat normal pace.

"One job Tommy. You had one damn job!" Joel rubs his hand over his face in distress and you flinch a little at the sheer anger in his voice.

Before Tommy replies, his expression drops when his eyes settle on you. Joel's back is facing you but Tommy can see you approaching behind Joel. He curses under his breath and Joel slowly turns around to find you walking towards him with your hand protectively over your stomach. Joel's hardened gaze falters at the sight of you, his pregnant worried wife, coming right towards him.

"Everything alright here?" you questioned, slightly out of breath from your trip here.

"Fuck—yes...'m sorry, didn't even know it was dark out. I'll take you home—" he starts scramibling to gather his things, taking his coat off the back of the chair at the bar and putting it on without even glancing at Tommy.

"If it's important, I can wait—"

"No. You shouldn't have had to come out here f'me anywhere...we're done, let's go home," he assures you, moving rather quickly to get you out.

He doesn't say anything else to Tommy, not even a "goodbye" and that's how you know somethings wrong. He takes your hand in his and shuffles you out of the bar, making sure no one bumps into you like they had before. Once you're out, you decide to wait until you make it back home to ask him what really happened.

"Dinners cold but I can heat it up," you told him once you we're outside, he's scanning the snow all over the pavement and his hand squeezes yours.

He's frozen, doesn't move anything but his head as he looks around at all the snow making the pavement slick. You turn your head when you realize he's not moving and you give his hand a squeeze.

"It's okay...I got here without any problems," you tried reassuring him but your words didn't mean much to someone who'd lost so many people through accidents.

You could see him fighting the urge to offer to carry you. You knew the nature of Sarah's death, you can't even imagine how hard picking you up right now might be for him but you see it all over his face.

"Come on...we'll go slow," you give his arm a gentle tug before stepping out because you know if you don't move, neither will he.

It takes you a while to get back home but when you do, you can see the relief washing all over his face as you make it inside. He glances over your shoulder and see's the table all set for you both, his jaw clenches as you reach at his shoulders.

"I'm sorry...fuck I'm so sorry," he murmurs and you just shake your head with a soft smile as you begin removing his coat for him.

"What happened...? I saw you two arguing," you turned and hung his coat up then did yours.

Before answering he had you sit down on the couch so he could take your his boots off, he untied them with a sigh and that only made you more nervous.

"I don't want to worry you," he mentioned and if anything that only worried you more.

"Tell me." you insisted firmly, trying not to look too nervous at whatever he might say.

He gets both boots off, sets them down before running his hand back over his hair. He looks tired but not just from patrol or the hard years he's endured but rather whatever he and Tommy were arguing about.

"You remember Dr. Smith?" he clasps his hands together and keeps his gaze off you, staring at the floor instead.

"Our OB? Yeah, of course,"

"She...wanted to check out a hospital 'bout thirty miles out, lookin' for some more supplies since more people are havin' babies and uh...Tommy let her go even though we'd never searched that area before. He sent her out with a group of six, she and two other's didn't come back," he ripped off the bandaid thinking it would hurt less to hear but it didn't.

You put a hand over your stomach, you couldn't even blink. Dr. Smith was the only doctor in Jackson whose specialty was obstetrics. She helped bring in more babies than you could count and you had anticipated on being next. Joel says something else but you don't even hear him, you're so utterly terrified that you're frozen in fear for what this means for you. There are other doctors, sure, but none of them specialized in obstetrics. Dr. Smith had been training a few other doctors but it wasn't the same, she had thirty years of obstetrics under her belt.

He doesn't even have to say what it means, you already know. And you don't like what you know, it scares you. He reaches over, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb back and forth over the top of it. You can't even gather the strength to form words, he's talking to you but you're not replying. You pull your legs up a bit and scoot over, rubbing your head against his chest. Like clockwork, his arm falls over you and he grabs the blanket hanging off the armrest to put over you without question. You keep your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat calms you as much as being this close to him does.

You grab his hand and put it on your growing stomach, you trust him more than anything but right now you need to feel protected. There was no one more protective over you than Joel and he gave you exactly that, rubbing his handover your bump and peppering kisses on the top of your head. A scared as you were, you felt a little better knowing you weren't alone and that Joel was just as nervous about this as you.