sinsofsummers - Tumblr blog

[sinsofsummers]

looking through my old drafts…. many thoughts to be had…

[sinsofsummers]

UM HELLO???

mya bby HI!!!!! idk what im doing here i got lost and turned onto tumblr ave 😭😭😭😭

sending so many kisses to make up for these last months being radio silent im so sorry🥲

[sinsofsummers]

💌 sᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇsᴛ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴏʀ ᴡʜᴏ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ 💌

just opened tumblr today for the first time in months and i’m equal parts heartwarmed and soooooo sad that i didnt see this before :((( i love these chains gi bby thank u for sending this 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[sinsofsummers]

been scrolling ye old tumblr for the last twelve hours after redownloading this hellscape of an app and I AM SO GLAD I DID

holy shit

he’s so……………..

[sinsofsummers]

Bubbles | Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You take a bath with Joel Miller.

Warnings/tags: MDNI. Jackson era. Established relationship. Foul language. Sexual content. Dirty talk. Pet names. Soft, domestic Joel. Cockwarming. Mutual masturbation. No mention of age, race, or body type.

Word count: 1.9k

a/n: listen, i’m not saying this is in the soft&sweet universe, but i’m also not not saying it.

my kofi linked here! if you’re interested in supporting my work further. :)

He was always so warm.

At first, you couldn’t stand it. When you started spending nights over in his home, contentedly falling asleep in his arms, only to wake up hours later sweating through your pajamas — you couldn’t believe the grizzly bear of a man you had. You would shove him to the other side of the mattress, to which he would usually respond with an unconscious grunt or heavy sigh, and claim the space needed to cool yourself down.

Then, came the dead of winter. Your feet were always too cold and his sturdy legs were always so warm. You’d shove your toes underneath his thigh on the couch while you sat together.

“Get those damn icicles outta here,” he would yap at you, and you would roll your eyes and laugh, knowing he wouldn’t move your legs. He loved it when you gravitated towards him, he was just too stubborn to admit it.

But the best time to feel Joel Miller’s warmth was when you convinced him to take a bath.

Sat between his legs with your back pressed up against his firm chest, he wrapped his arms around your middle, and you laid your head into the curve between his neck and shoulder. Your eyes were closed, a calm silence fallen over the room. Foamy water reached just below your breasts, and you were soothed by the pattern of his hands that rubbed gently over them every few moments. He caressed your stomach, your thighs, loving the silken feel of your skin in the water. He had his nose pressed to the back of your head, breathing in the sweet scent of your damp hair. His thighs cradled either side of you, legs bent, not quite perfectly fitting inside the tub.

Joel didn’t mind. He would would sit there till his skin pruned and his blood boiled from the outrageous temperature you insisted on keeping the water if it meant he got to have you this close.

Normally, you would be satisfied to just exist like this. But today, the incessant tingle between your legs was craving something else warm. And hard. And thick. And already pressed against your lower back behind you.

In your relaxed state, you not so nonchalantly shuffled your bottom in his lap, inhaling a heavy breath at the feel of his cock nestling up against your lower lips. Joel stirred only the slightest, and not even a moment later, you felt the familiar tickle of his thick beard below your ear.

“Need somethin’ from me, darlin’?” he murmured, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.

A soft grin dangled on your lips, eyes still shut. “Mm, no. Just getting comfortable,” you feigned innocence, another swivel of your hips catching the tip of his cock between your folds, eliciting a grunt from deep within Joel’s chest.

This time, when his hands grazed over your breasts, he cupped them tenderly in his palms, padding his thumbs over your already taut nipples. You couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped you, something so undeniably intoxicating about the delicate, yet filthy way Joel Miller touched you. You arched up slightly into his hold, and a low chuckle rumbled through his chest.

“Thought’ya wanted a relaxin’ and undisturbed evening?” he taunted, mimicking the exact words you had given him before you two settled down for the night.

You opened your eyes only to roll them, tilting your head back to catch his profile. His cheeks were flushed from the heat of the water, eyes on you and a snark little grin hanging on his lips.

“I do. Who says I’m not relaxed?” You couldn’t think of a more soothing scenario than the one you were in right now.

He hummed, thumbs taking another pass over your nipples, this time giving them delicate pinch. You sucked in through your teeth, fingers digging into his thighs below the water.

“Just seem a lil antsy s’all.” He knew what he was doing. He knew you knew what he was doing, but Joel didn’t care. He was the kind of man who loved to work you up until you simply could not take it anymore. He liked to feel wanted.

And fuck, did you want him.

Now, his hips were meeting you in return with small, upwards rocks, making it significantly harder to hold your ground. “Just–just trying to get comfy,” you deemed, though your voice failed you in the way it faltered, too enamored by feel of his sturdy cock rubbing over your folds. The water made the motion much easier, smoother, every maneuver of him below you providing the delicious friction.

His lips were pressed against your ear. “Here,” he whispered, the sudden drop in his tone sending a tingle between your thighs. “Let me help you.”

Then, his large hands were disappearing under the water, palms coming to cradle your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as he lifted you the slightest bit. The tip of him slipped between your folds, and you dug your nails deeper into his thighs. And as he descended you back against his chest, he slowly nestled himself up inside of you, reaching the kind of depth only Joel could find.

The familiar stretch made you sigh contentedly, a sense of relief in your breath. “Joel,” you hummed softly, hands finding his that held your hips steady below the water, lacing your fingers atop of his.

“That better, darlin’?” he asked, lifting a hand to swipe your hair over to one shoulder, exposing the hollow of your neck to his feathery kisses.

You gave him a slow nod and soft mmhm before allowing yourself to melt back into his embrace. You weren’t sure how long you sat like this, plugged up with his cock and dazed off the delicacy of his hands. But soon enough, it became difficult to stay still. The unmoving thickness not enough to quench the painful ache between your legs. You think Joel must’ve been growing eager too, for anytime you shifted or arched any which direction, he would grunt low, feeling the mass of him swell and throb within your walls.

The harder he grew, the deeper he reached, and eventually, you felt the tip of him find a spot inside of you that left you gasping for air, the now lukewarm water sloshing around you as you bucked your hips forward.

"Joel." When you said his name again, it came as a frantic whine off your lips. If you weren't submerged below the water, you were certain you would be dripping down his cock, suddenly oversensitive to the steely feeling of him inside of you. Your untouched clit throbbed for attention; the abundance, the closeness, the sheer being of him within and around you too much to bare.

"I've got ya," he murmured, and you noted the way his own voice strained with desire. His hands caressed over your sides until he found the crux of your knees. "Open 'em up, baby."

Then, he was urging your legs over each respective side of the tub, never abandoning himself from inside of you, but merely slipping further into the water to accommodate your adjustment.

"But Joel, the water–" you gasped, but it was too late. He had already lifted them over the edges, and you were more than willing to comply to his ministrations, sending gulps of sudsy bath water onto the tiles.

Spread open for him, cock still nestled perfectly inside of you, Joel stifled out a low chuckle before his hands were back on you. One gingerly coming back to fiddle with you pebbled nipples while the other descended between your open legs, finding your point of contact. You mewled in delight the moment his fingers found your clit, calloused pads stroking carefully over the sensitive bud. Just the slightest bit, feather light and leaving you to anticipate more. You were already clenching around him, fluttering walls inviting him to overtake every inch of your cunt.

"Don't give a damn about the water, I'll mop it up later," he gritted, giving your left nipple a particularly terse pinch, sending your back arching and his cock pulsing to the hilt, more water spilling over the sides of the tub.

"Fuck," he breathed, and you were moaning at the familiar swell of him inside of you. Neither of you would last long, not after sitting like that, engulfed in the entirety of each other. "You're so fuckin' pretty," he praised, and then, his lips were back on your neck, this time sucking faint marks along your jugular. His fingers began to work in tight circles over your clit, a steady pace of even pressure that he knew would leave your toes curling.

He didn't indulge himself; he remained perfectly still inside of you, only the twitch or rock of your own hips providing any sort of internal friction. But the utter fullness of him coupled with his fingers stroking you, like a maestro on his fine instrument, plucked away at your sanity until you felt yourself wholly driven by lust.

The build up was intense, like always. Your eyes rolled back while he worked his digits over your clit, beginning to contract around him, coaxing him towards his own release. He emitted a low vibration in his chest then, a sound so primal in your heightened state that your toes really did curl off the edge of the tub.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” you sung in a high whine, slicing your teeth into your bottom lip as you clenched feverishly around him. “Joel, I’m—I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” you chanted like a prayer, knowing how much he loved to hear it and fuck, you loved to say it. Loved to tell him how good he made you feel. Your orgasm tipped over you in a warm ripple, coating your entire body in tingles. His free arm wrapped dutifully around your torso, keeping you steady as your hips trembled and jerked around his cock, little pulses vibrating through your clit that was still being bathed in his careful attention.

You thought you could’ve come again from his sounds alone, heavy grunts and stifled groans that reverberated through his chest as his own hips began to sputter below you. He kept you sufficiently plugged with the whole of him while he twitched inside of you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to mask the heavenly little moan that slipped passed his lips when he spilled inside of you. Finishing himself off just by the feel of your cunt around him alone, tight and welcoming, the perfect fit.

Your body was on fire, no longer the doing of the water, but by the pleasant aftermath of Joel’s attention. Your once pristine bubble bath now a pool of your own sweat and cum. You would sit in it for hours to pass if he so pleased, nonetheless. Content to remain dirty if it meant having his hands on you.

You leaned your head back against his chest as you both began the search for your breath, letting your eyes flutter shut as his hands cascaded back over your stomach, your ribs, your breasts, soothing over every inch of skin he could get them on. He softened inside of you, and yet, the prolonged connection already had you aching for more. You sighed pleasantly, an equally depraved and gleeful smile lingering on your lips.

“We should take baths more often,” you hummed, that blissful stupor between sleep and awake that arose after Joel took care of your pleasure wrapping you up like a warm, heavy blanket.

Joel chuckled shakily behind you. “I think I could be convinced,” he said, and you joined in on his laughter when his fingers found you below the water again, playfully tickling at your sides.

You weren’t sure either of you ever really got clean that night.

tag list: @casa-boiardi @dinsdjrn @scarletsloveletter @subconsciouscollapse @thetriumphantpanda @mommasnakesss @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers @morning-star-joy @whichwitchwanda @prettyangelsthings @nostalxgic @aphterthoughtt @drewharrisonwriter @scroogles @ilovepedro @rosaliedepp @gintheginger @escapingjune @lizlil @sanscas @fifia-writes @evylzzz @koshkaj-blog @mxtokko @pedrosaidsheispunk @therealmrspascal @dins-riduur-anthe @sakuralikestars @spookyprofessorknightflap @princessloveweird @pedritosdarling @suzmagine @rainbowcosmicchaos @aliengirl99 @partyofone3413 @sarap-77 @its-nebuleuse @scarletthefierce @littleshadow17 @preferthemolder @harriedandharassed @pedritopascalfics @airalihmarylu @bbyanarchist

[sinsofsummers]

wow. holy. fuck.

i don't really have the energy or mindset to type out a big long explanation as to where i've been because i mean.. i like to keep my life kinda private and like.. social media is so fickle.. but!

this summer has been so special to me with only having been on here for about a month (actively, that is). logging in this morning to see that i've reached the big 2,000 follower mark is absolutely insane to me and i am so grateful for everyone who decided to read my little smut fics!!!

as of now, it is unclear whether i'll be posting anytime soon, as writing on tumblr actually took lots of my focus away from my new adult fantasy book i'm writing (and almost done with!!!) rather than being a little "mind break" that i wanted it to be. lmfao.

SO. with that being said. please keep in touch! i'll pop on here occasionally, maybe post some drabbles, maybe sensational part 4 if i feel like it, etc.

but stay slay and be kind! i love u all.

[sinsofsummers]

this is making me so emotional i’m so honored to be included. gonna go sob. WAH.

A general appreciation post - being mostly a lurker who is slowly re-learning the rules and regulations of tumblr, I have found some much needed escape and soothing in the (let’s be honest mostly Pedro-related 😂) writing of especially those listed below. Still not sure how to show the right kind of recognition, but these writers have produced work that has given me all the feelings, helped to work through some trauma and even made me think about writing again and work on reducing the self-judgement whilst doing so. If you are ever unsure what people think about your writing, remember that many of us are so grateful, albeit sometimes only very quietly:

@javier-pena

@javierpena-inatacvest

@joelscruff @joels6string

@theywhowriteandknowthings

@thepascalofus

@thesummerpetrichor

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

@darkroastjoel

@strang3lov3

@sinsofsummers

@iamasaddie

@macfrog

@gracieispunk

@devilmademewriteit

[sinsofsummers]

hi everyone

[sinsofsummers]

good morning sweeties how are we doing today?? :))

[sinsofsummers]

WAHHHH

doni this made me so weak in the knees i am such a sucker for non-sexual intimacy PLEASE

not much I need (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, established relationship, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: You're confused when Joel seeks nonsexual intimacy after a long day, then fall in love with the feeling of wanting each other without sex.

Warnings: Fluff, Soft!Joel, they're so in love, a bit of self-conscious awkwardness from both at first, touch-starved desperation, familiar intimacy/touch without sex.

Wordcount: 2.2k

A/N: This might quite honestly be my favorite thing I've written for these two. My babies have come so far, and this made me melt. Inspired by this post

You hadn’t realize you drifted off into a light slumber while reading another one of Joel’s books—a silly little action one, your eyes glazing over through each fight scene and description of convoluted political intrigue that the world had ended before you could fully understand, even as you kept reading, too stubborn to give up halfway through—until the novel was gently tugged from your fingers.

You jerked back awake, blinking a few times to focus on Joel standing next to your side of the bed, in the process of setting the book down on your nightstand.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and you hummed in response, not able to form a coherent thought yet as you were still in the process of waking up from your unintended nap. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

A yawn fell from your lips as you shifted, laying on your side and pulling your pillow closer to yourself as you replied sleepily, “You better have marked my spot, cowboy.”

The few seconds of silence that stretched out after your tired comment pulled a quiet chuckle from you, the sound huskier from sleep as you peeked an eye open to see Joel quietly flipping the book back open, flipping through the pages to try and find the page you had been on. You caught him clearly marking one at random before slipping your eyes back shut, a knowing smile curling on your lips that you hid against the pillow when he set the book down.

“‘Course,” he replied, and you snorted, unable to hide your sound of amusement as he leaned down to brush a kiss against your temple before moving back around to his side of the bed.

The mattress dipped under his weight, and you turned over to face his back at his quiet grunt of fatigue, watching the muscles between his shoulders flex in his flannel as he went through the process of unlacing and tugging off his boots, kicking them underneath the bed before undressing to his boxers.

You watched him silently as he did so, eyes roaming over the tanned, scarred skin that was revealed, lingering on those darling back dimples that traveled down the dip of his lower back, smiling stupidly to yourself at how after months of being determined not to strip for each other, you now did so nearly every day without a second thought.

“How’d guard duty go?” you asked, your voice a bit less raspy now as you began to wake back up fully, and Joel turned to climb under the sheets with you, leaning down to give you another quick kiss fully on the lips, a familiar greeting that still made you feel those goddamn butterflies before he stretched across your body to turn off the lamp on your nightstand.

“Fine,” he replied simply, arm moving to encircle around your waist and pull you closer to him, face dipping down into your neck as his large hand slipped underneath your shirt, traveling up your back while he pressed kisses down the skin that was available in the large t-shirt that you were wearing.

It was a shirt that belonged to him, one that smelled like him, and you could feel the moment Joel realized this as he smiled into the crook of your neck before nipping at the skin there gently, pulling another small mark to form on you, as if evidence of him wasn’t handprinted over every part of your life, over every inch of your body and soul already.

“You’re always such a talker, aren’t you, Miller?” you murmured, smiling in the darkness at his quiet chuckle, feeling the rumble of it in his broad, bare chest from how he was pressed to you, and your fingers slipped between you, finding the hem of your panties to begin to shimmy them off when Joel’s gentle caressing of your skin stopped.

“What are you doing?” his voice rumbled from his chest, genuine confusion in the question, and you paused in your actions, resting your head back against the pillow in the same moment his head lifted from your neck to gaze down at you.

Your eyes were adjusting to see his face through the darkness as his did the same, the both of you blind to each other for a moment other than the feeling of his arm still around you, long fingers splayed across your mid-back, keeping you tethered to him as you replied awkwardly, “Um…fucking you?”

You didn’t need to see him then to know he was frowning, able to hear it just in the subtle inflictions of his low drawl as he replied, “I wasn’t…”

Now you were frowning too, removing your hands from your panties to rest your elbows on the bed, pushing yourself up to get closer to his face, waiting until you could make out his features as best you could in the dark, hating the sudden surge of hesitation, of embarrassment you felt as you said slowly, “You…don’t want to?”

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed, brows pinching together in a way you always wanted to soothe whenever you saw it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch him in that moment, suddenly uncertain as to what was happening—Joel didn’t want to fuck you? He always wanted to fuck you—before he replied quietly, in a voice as hesitant as yours, almost bashful when he said, “I just…wanted to touch you.”

“Just…” you trailed off, an audible exhale of confusion leaving your lips as your face scrunched up, not understanding what he was getting at. “Touch me without…fucking?”

Joel shifted, his hand trailing from your back down to your hip, fingers squeezing your waist gently in a way that was reassuring without asking for more, and you softened from your trepidation as he murmured, “Well…yeah. It was a long day, and I missed you.”

You blinked a few times, a soft “oh,” leaving your lips, and the two of you continued to stare at each other in the dark for a moment, eyes adjusting to see the other’s face in the same moment, and you softened as you saw his face was just as awkward as you were feeling. Just as uncertain how to be in love, even as you both fell into it harder, deeper, with each passing day.

“Joel,” you murmured, finally lifting a hand to stroke along his cheek, and the sigh that instantly exhaled heavily from his lips was a balm on your soul, a familiar longing for him forming in your chest as you glanced over where you knew the most heavyset wrinkles on his face were by now, even if you couldn’t see them fully in the darkness of your shared bedroom.

“Mi luna,” he whispered back, the longing palpable in his own voice, and a shuddering exhale escaped your mouth in the same moment it met his, wrapping your arms around him to hold him close as his hand moved from your waist, slipping under your shirt to your back again.

You shivered from the familiar caress of his callouses against your skin, letting yourselves gently fall back onto the bed together, nothing else existing except for the love that you shared for each other.

A surge of adrenaline fueled by strong emotion coursing through you made you hold him tighter, fingers winding through the longer curls that you had grown so fond of as he grew them out, lips parting from his for just a moment to whisper a desperate, “I love you.”

The sound Joel made then was one of pure need, and it made you desire him even more—but not a familiar physical desire you had felt for him from nearly the first moment you met.

No, this was that desire to know him. The desire to lay in his arms until you were settled into his soul, finding your home in his heart time and time again, and you knew without a doubt that he would never let you leave that place in him that you had found as he whispered back against your lips, “I love you too. So much.”

Both his strong arms were around you now, holding you tight to him as his body weight pressed against you, and you exhaled a soft sigh, revering in the way the presence of his entire being against yours made you feel so safe, so secure, so fucking loved in the same moment he affirmed it with his words, pulling the emotion from your soul and out of his lips as he murmured again and again, “Love you so fucking much, I love you so fucking much.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, hooking your leg around his waist to bring him closer, but there was no rolling of your hips. You didn’t need to come tonight, didn’t need his body in a primal way, but you just needed him. Just him. Always him. “Joel.”

Your name fell from his lips in the same breaths that his left yours, prayers and vows exchanged between you with the way you uttered each other’s names alone, mouths swollen from the passionate kisses you exchanged.

You loved him so much, you loved him so much, you didn’t think you loved anyone like this. No, you knew you hadn’t, but the sheer intensity of it as it grew the more you accepted it was almost overwhelming.

Still, you couldn’t get enough, letting yourself fade into him as your hands touched and explored each other in the dark, not needing to see to know how your bodies molded to each other so naturally now, even as you caressed each other without the need for sex.

It was intimacy.

It was addicting.

The way he touched you showed how he knew you, fingers grazing across the spots of your body that made you sigh in content. He claimed you in that way, the act of purely knowing you, making you his the same way you made him yours.

He also caressed the parts of you that you weren’t the fondest of—his fingers dancing across the ink of the tattoo on your torso, thumb stroking along the outline of it and making your heart ache, because you knew he hated them, that he despised the Fireflies the same way that you did. But he loved you more.

You touched him in the same way—stroking your fingers along the taut muscles in his arms that you knew he was proud of, gently grazing your palms across the softer stomach from the comfort in Jackson that he didn’t like so much, but had become one of your favorite fucking things about his body.

Wrinkles on his face that he detested, grays in his hair that you were obsessed with—they all made him Joel, made him yours. The man who had survived through hell the same way you did to get here, to be in each other’s arms like this, for as long as you could.

And when the heat of passion faded, love still remained. You both laid back on the bed, limbs completely entangled, still softly touching, and you didn’t need him to explain to understand what he had meant. But Joel finally found the words to tell you anyway, filling you with a joyful satisfaction only he could bring to you as he said them.

“There’s not much I need,” Joel murmured, running his fingers through your hair and watching how the soft strands slipped through them, humming as the scent of your shampoo filled the small space between you. “Just you, waiting in my bed for me like this. Don’t need to fuck, I just want you.”

You laughed a little, unable to help your faint amusement at the sentiment, even as it warmed your heart and nearly turned you into a fucking embarrassing puddle of emotions for him.

Joel arched an eyebrow at your laughter, his other hand spreading across the small of your back, tugging you closer to him as his head ducked down to nip at your neck, almost as if in a reprimand for your giggles, an action that only made you laugh louder as he grumbled playfully, “What’s so funny?”

“Well,” you giggled a few more times, not missing the light in Joel’s eyes as he pulled back up to gaze down at how your face scrunched up in a rare expression of pure joy from you. “It’s just that we wouldn’t even be here if we weren’t both really fucking horny in the first place.”

Joel gave a sigh that bordered on over exaggerated, and you laughed again, loving the way he smiled into the kiss he placed on your lips, so wide that your teeth nearly clashed, pulling more laughter out of both of your meeting lips and bodies as you tangled them together, enjoying a soft, easy night of caressing each other, touching and exploring just for the sake of intimacy.

When you drifted off again wrapped up in his embrace, his calloused fingers still stroking gentle, calming circles across the spot between your shoulder blades that Joel and you both quickly learned was one of your favorite places for his hands to be—you couldn’t help but briefly entertain the passing thought that this may be your new favorite activity with your love, even blowing sex out of the water, as Joel’s soft murmurs into your hair and loving touches lulled you to sleep.

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cupofjoel @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @dissentientss

[sinsofsummers]

EVERYONE LOOK ITS SEL’S FIRST FIC AND IM SO EXCITED

your words carry an admirable strength throughout the entirety of this piece and i’m so honored to have been able to read it as you wrote!!!

EVERYONE GO HYPE IT UP!!!! SLOWWWWW BURN!!!!!!

guess I should've known from the look on your face

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, friends -> enemies -> lovers (kinda)

summary: your tempestous relationship with joel was put to the test after a fuck up on patrol that left you embarrassed and overly defensive. despite every urge to exacerbate the problem, you tried your best to make the most of the situation and get along....mostly.

word count: 7.5k

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Despite the ear-splitting gnashing of teeth next to your face and the painful clawing at the raw skin of your décolletage, you couldn’t help that in the back of your mind all you could think was: You fucking moron, you’re going to die in the most embarrasing way possible. Even fear seemed to have left you, as you struggled in the choking grip of the runner in front of you that was desperately trying to sink its teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. All that remained was adrenaline, humiliation, and the sinking feeling that if you were to meet your demise in this moment, it would be Joel Miller, of all people, that found your torn apart frame on the floor. Joel Miller, who had expressly warned you to stay where you were until he returned from checking the back of the building for intruders. Joel Miller, who somehow always made you feel like an incompetent child. 

When you had first approached the roadside gas station and small bait shop that was the destination for your current patrol route, both of you had slowed down and pulled out your weapons at the sight of a beat up pick up truck haphazardly parked across the verge separating the gas pumps from the road. This was new, not having been reported by the previous patrol duo. Joel quickly assumed the position of the team leader.

“Stay here. I’ll check the back entrance,” Joel muttered as quietly as he could, still ensuring that he could be heard over the whistling wind from the snow that had been picking up speed since you first departed from the Jackson gates. As the snow crunched under his boots with each receding step, you were seething. 

The audacity of this man who had spent the last ten months ignoring you to immediately try and give you orders, you brooded silently. You weren’t even supposed to be here, for God’s sake. It was the unfortunate result of poor scheduling over the Christmas holidays, as well as the skilled persuasion by your closest friend, Maria, that you were even stuck on this patrol to begin with. Sure, it was one of the shorter journeys for patrol pairs, one that only required travel on foot, but that was still a miserable three hours with Joel Miller. Three whole hours of curt answers and second-guessing your decisions. So, the instant he was out of sight, you tucked away your gun into your waistband and folded your arms across your chest, rubbing your ungloved hands against the sides of your arms to try and create some warmth.

The natural instinct in you to piss him off outweighed any logic that you’d previously believed you’d been in abundance of, as you made that decision to ignore his instructions so flippantly as soon as he had turned his back to you. Besides, the truck was clearly empty, the store shutters were undisturbed, and there were no tracks to be seen in the snow that had persistently been coating the floor for days now.

The irritation that only Joel Miller seemed to inspire had clearly blinded you to your next bad decision, as you spotted something through the windshield of the truck. A perfectly intact Spider-Man bobblehead, right there for the taking on the dashboard. Ellie would love that. You exhaled hot air into your icy hands to warm them up as you plodded along to the car, already picturing the teens’ excited face at the impromptu gift. The next few moments seemed to pass in bullet time as you heard it within seconds of leaning into the enclosed space of the front seat. The wind was no longer able to muffle the pained guttural groans.

Grotesque and dripping with congealed blood was an emaciated looking runner, face sunken in and ghoulish. It practically scampered up towards you from the floor of the backseat, moving in jerky convulsions while its teeth bit at the empty air in anticipation. You jumped back from where you had been leaning into the car, arm outstretched for the bobblehead, and your heel promptly made contact with a patch of ice. Your ass hit the ground, shooting a sharp pain through your tailbone that you had no choice but to ignore as you attempted to scramble back up to your feet. 

The runner dove head first out from the backseat, the snapping of its jaw seeming to lead its body faster than any of its limbs, giving you the opportunity to send a hard kick directly into its head. Stumbling back up, you were able to grab the handle of your trusty switchblade in the few seconds it took for the beast to reorient itself. 

With a quick dart forward, you plunged the knife into the closest spot that would have any sort of impact on its mobility: its kneecap. At least some of your survival instincts were still in place. You made sure to wrench the knife from side to side, a visceral squelching sound being emitted from the tearing ligaments. In a different life the sound probably would have turned your stomach, but now you were just flooded with gratitude that you actually remembered to sharpen the old blade before leaving.

“Jooooeellll!” You felt the scream for help rip out of your throat, and immediately regretted it despite the dire situation. He would not exactly be thrilled at your blatant disregard for his instructions.

The continued effort to stumble back while avoiding any more patches of ice was proving to be successful, until you felt your back slam painfully against the cold metal store shutters behind you. Fuck. You had miscalculated your distance and had nowhere to turn, despite the monster hobbling towards you being slowed down by its new injury. These creatures didn’t feel pain, so regardless of the fact that you could see the white of bone jutting out from the torn flesh of its knee, it continued to progress forward.

Desperately trying to lift your knife from your side while holding the full weight of the beast back with one arm, you were unable to stop yourself from thinking about what Joel would think of you for your mistakes. The blustery air did nothing to cool the heat in your cheeks as you continued to struggle, hating yourself for even thinking of someone like Joel in the face of literal death.

As you were beginning to lose hope, arms shaking from the effort of holding the runner back, strong hands suddenly appeared from behind its shoulders to drag it straight to the ground. You heard a sickening pop as the partially torn leg finally gave out after being heaved backwards at such a strange angle. You were practically hyperventilating, finally feeling time speed up again as you watched Joel take his boot and slam it into the head of the runner, over and over and over again, until all that was left was a puddle of viscera under his foot. The creature was clearly fresh, still more human than mushroom, and pieces of bone and brain matter decorated the floor. You stared, unable to tear your eyes away from the haunting sight. 

Joel was breathing heavily as he finally ceased his brutalisation of the corpse, seemingly having decided that what was left of the zombie would probably not be able to get back up. He slowly looked over at you, undisguised rage clouding his handsome features, and he clamped his jaw shut.  Any embarrassment that you were still feeling morphed into pure, unbridled shame under the weight of his disdainful look.

“I told you one fucking thing.” Is all he deigned to say. You were glad as you could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears, anyway.

Refusing to give you a second look, he shifted the entirety of his attention to unlocking and lifting the metal roller blocking the door, making it apparent to you that there had been no other threat in the area.

Something like anger and sadness both bubbled up in you simultaneously, and you kept your eyes trained on the ground as you walked to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing you upset. As he locked the door behind you both and began looking around the store shelves for something, you pressed your freezing fingers against your face as subtly as you could, trying to physically cool off the burning sensation in your cheeks. 

You weren’t a child. You weren’t an idiot. The judgement of this man should not have been hurting you as much as it was, but as much as you insisted that you hated him, some semblance of respect and even care for the man still existed deep within you.

A quick glance up to where he was standing reminded you of something that you had somehow spotted outside, despite the carnage. His boots. Green laces. You were the one to find them for him, ten months ago.

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His incessant muttering and pacing were really starting to piss you off. Fine, you made a mistake. Fine, you technically could have died. You were already mortified because of it. Did he really have to keep exhaling so dramatically and making as much noise as possible with each empty crate he moved in his not-so-subtle attempt at finding the supplies that he should definitely know the location of? All you wanted was for him to cease his incessant pacing around the dusty shelves, especially since he started to make deliberate eye contact with you over them to send you withering glares.

“Are you done?” You found yourself asking sarcastically from where you were perched on the long disconnected chest freezer pushed against the right wall. You had been fidgeting restlessly with your fingers since you took your seat, trying to calm the slight shake in your hands from the leftover adrenaline.

He lifted his head up from where he now stood, flipping through the worn pages of the log book on the counter. As annoyed as you were, it was hard to deny the way something in your chest still jumped with each brief moment of eye contact.

“Excuse me?” He asked with an exasperated tone, almost as if each word he spoke was physically exhausting him.

“I said,” You finally hopped down from where you were sitting and watching him sulk, and slowly started to take a few cautious steps towards him. A loud creak reverberated out from the rickety old wooden floorboards with each step as you closed the distance between the two of you.

“Are you done? You know, with the whole I'm Joel Miller, I’ve never made a mistake in my life act.” You drawled with an exaggerated Texan accent in your poor imitation of him, feeling emboldened by his increasingly frustrated look. “I fucked up, I know that. You can go right ahead and relax, you’ve already made it very clear that you disapprove.”

He straightened up in one swift movement and threw the pen down against the counter, hands coming down to rest on his hips. Suddenly you felt like a child about to be reprimanded by a teacher.

“Y'know, you’re bein’ awful ungrateful for someone that I could’ve just left there to die.”

It was so typical of him to insinuate that you weren’t as capable or strong as he was, despite the fact that when Joel first arrived in Jackson, you had been the one to show him the ropes. That is, of course, before Joel summarily decided that he no longer wanted to take instruction from you.

It had been a long ten months since that day, and your relationship had become practically non-existent, if not tense and uncomfortable in the few situations you were still forced to interact in. The bond you had built with Ellie meant that there were many days that you had to see him during mornings when you promised to walk her to the schoolhouse. Joel would be sure to give you a polite nod, his Southern manners enduring regardless of the change in your relationship, to which you would roll your eyes or just simply ignore him.

Maria, your closest friend in Jackson, would regularly invite you to dinner with her and Tommy, usually choosing not to warn you that the older Miller brother would be making an appearance. It would take all of your strength to suppress the urge to cuss Joel out at the slightest infraction, knowing that Tommy would be disappointed at how quickly your friendship had disintegrated. 

Truthfully, you were well aware of just how petty and immature you were being. You just couldn’t help yourself when you thought about how good things had been before he made his choice to rebuff you. Your friendship had been easy, and caring, and you had even started to feel…things that you hadn’t ever felt for someone before. Pettiness made it easier to shove those feelings away, even if you knew it wasn’t exactly helping your case that you were definitely, totally, unaffected by his rejection.

You had reached the cracked acrylic counter separating you, and you tried to ignore the way his gaze remained trained onto your face as you approached. The quiet anger was visible in his eyes, like he couldn’t even believe your defensiveness when it was so obvious that you were in the wrong. You slammed a fist straight down on the counter, effectively shutting down the part of your brain that would always lose focus at the mere sight of his deep, brown eyes, angry or otherwise. The sharp pain radiating through your hand acted as the physical reminder you needed to keep your anger burning for him to see, rather than letting it falter under the power of his eyes studying you.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes dramatically, “I had the situation firmly under control. I mean, thank you, obviously, it’s not like swooping in like that didn’t help, but don’t act like I wasn’t a second away from killing that thing myself.”

Joel continued to watch you with an incredulous expression across his face, before he chose to merely scoff in response. 

“Whatever you say, doll," he said in that low, dismissive tone that you were well acquainted with, before picking the pen back up to continue writing his note in the logbook. 

The trait you had grown to hate the most in him was his dismissiveness. As if you weren’t even worthy of his anger, like you were just an incompetent child that he could be done with whenever he chose. It was a trait that was apparently reserved just for you. No matter what you would say to push his buttons, to even get a negative reaction from him, his response was to shut you down and not engage. It exasperated you that that hurt more than if he just yelled at you.

“God, you are the fucking worst, Miller. I’m not just saying anything, alright? I think most people would agree that it was an accurate assessment of the situation. What, do I need to be so fucking touched by your heroism that I’m on my knees with gratitude?” You paused before starting to stammer as you realised the unintended double meaning of what you just said. He clearly also heard the innuendo, if the tightened grip on the pen in his fist was any indication. “I-I mean, like, you’re not a God or…whatever… where I would need to beg for forgiveness at your feet! I fucked up, and you helped, but I would have been fine either way!”

His face betrayed no emotions, just letting you rant at him. You were running out of steam quickly from his lack of response, and your mouth grew dry as you realised that he really had no intentions of participating in your little outburst. It left you, as always, to be the one making a fool of themselves. 

“Well, say something!” You insisted, shoving the book out from under his hand, in an attempt to get him to look up from where he was staring. “Say what you really think of me Miller, say why you always have to make me feel like I’m a fuck up.”

He finally moved to slowly close the logbook and place it back under the counter where it belonged, letting you stand there with your chest heaving in anger that was probably disproportionate to the situation. Joel finally looked back down at your face.

Something in his eyes took you off guard. It felt different to how he had ever looked at you before, almost heavy. In your peripheral vision you could see his hand shift across the counter top, gently tracing his index finger across one of the cracks in the acrylic while his eyes slowly scanned over your facial features. They finally settled on your eyes, and you could tell that any trace of visible anger you had in your face had faded away in anticipation for what he was about to say.

‘You could have died. Y’know that right?’ His tone seemed somehow defeated for even having to say the words.

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably as his eyes remained locked on yours, as if he was trying to make you understand something he was saying, something deeper than just the few words he had used. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your slightly torn shirt as you looked for words. Why did he seem almost…hurt at the thought of something happening to you? Anger or even disappointment would have been explainable, but this was indecipherable to you.

A loud crack echoed through the room suddenly, as some debris outside clanged against metal shutters from the wind. The spell was broken, as you both jumped in place at the disturbance. You decided to take the opportunity to take a small, stabilising, step back.

The only conclusion that you were able to come to about his statement was that he felt guilty. Maybe he thought that you were under his responsibility while you patrolled together, and that he somehow failed? You immediately balked at the thought of Joel somehow feeling responsible for you, as if he thought you couldn’t handle it outside of the walls by yourself.

“I know that I could have died”’ You swallowed bitterly. 

You tap the hand still on the counter against the grimy plastic a few times, deliberating whether you should add something else but deciding against it at the last second.

And yet, as you finally walked past him into the staff room at the back of the store, it slipped out anyway.

“As if that would even matter to you.”

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Pushing open the door with some effort, thanks to the rusted hinges, you were greeted with the sight of the supplies that Joel had been working oh-so-diligently at finding, sitting in plain sight on one of two metal storage shelves. The old ham radio that was the reason for you entering the room sat on the small table that took up the corner of the room. 

Before reaching to grab the mic, you paused for a second and leaned back against the shut door, taking in a few deep, calming breaths that evaded you earlier. You hated how easily he was able to bring you to anger, how quickly your face would burn with indignation while he was able to remain as unaffected as always. Whatever you had done to inspire this distaste for you must have been unforgivable, given how it seemed to persist enough that he wouldn’t even be able to spend the effort to argue with you. 

As you gathered yourself you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to your somewhat brief, yet impactful friendship with Joel.

He had shown up just over a year ago, Ellie in tow, and you had immediately accepted them with open arms. You were one of the lucky ones, finding Jackson with your two siblings while you were still in your mid twenties. Having almost ten years of safety and community was enviable to many of those who showed up in Jackson. It was your awareness of this fact that encouraged you to work harder and longer hours than the vast majority of those tasked with the safety of Jackson. It was the least you could do, after all,  and if you were able to do anything that would spare the added trauma for those that had barely scraped their way into safety, you would do so with a smile. 

Joel and Ellie weren’t the first to arrive at the gates  hardened and traumatised at the brutality beyond the gates, and you pitied them. It didn’t come from a place of patronization. They were both clearly strong, physically and emotionally, for surviving what they had. But watching the weary look in their eyes at the comforts you had begun to take for granted had you wishing that the world had been kinder to them. 

By the end of the first week, Tommy insisted that you take Joel on as a patrol partner. He felt that Joel making a friend could soften him up a bit, maybe even break down a couple of the walls that locked out everyone but Tommy and Ellie. Besides, he teased Joel, who else was patient enough to teach an old man like him the proper way to do things? 

You soon found yourself spending all of your spare time with him and Ellie. Between instructing Joel about how to most effectively utilise their horses when facing small groups of raiders, to lounging on their couch as Ellie demanded that he let her get a tattoo for the millionth time, the two became fixtures in your life. As always, Joel’s answer would be a firm not until you’re eighteen to which Ellie would stomp off to the garage, leaving you both chuckling in her wake. 

Joel appeared to like your presence. The one-word answers he had given you at the start or your relationship quickly shifted into full conversations. He always furrowed his brow with put-on disapproval when you tried to teach him your lesson of the week, before, like clockwork, admitting that your methods weren’t too shabby. He even regularly took your advice when it came to Ellie, valuing your input that Ellie was old enough to rebel a little bit. 

Ellie had been so grateful when he finally allowed her to resume hanging out with her new friends following the weed incident, that she gave both of you a huge bear hug. The smile gracing Joel’s face for the rest of the day made your knees feel weak, especially whenever he directed it at you in gratitude for your advice. The embarrassed laugh that followed when you teased him about his own teenage years, courtesy of a drunk Tommy babbling at you one evening, resulted in you needing to grip onto the kitchen counter next to you for strength. 

The third month of your friendship brought with it disapproving shakes of the head from Maria everytime she caught you looking at him for a second too long. You would promptly shrug and make a confused face to indicate that she was the one being weird for even implying that you might have been getting attached.

Family dinners and boozy evenings in the Tipsy Bison continued on a regular basis. Joel was still himself. Gruff and slightly mean towards anyone that wasn’t Ellie or Tommy, but he would laugh at your jokes. Really laugh, in a way that made warmth radiate through your chest and into your fingertips. The elbow nudges that Tommy would give to you in response were a lot less accusatory than Maria’s looks, merely appreciating that Joel had somebody to make him laugh. Ellie had been the one to change him, letting Joel give himself permission to feel joy again, but damn if it didn’t make Tommy relieved to see Joel allow himself that with other people too.

Whenever you would find small things outside the wall that you thought he could use, he would accept with a small smile, rather than immediately rejecting it with a short “I have everythin’ I need.”

Even on days that he wouldn’t be on patrol with you, you would find him at the stables, just coincidentally with an extra thermos of coffee in hand despite his insistence that he just had to check in with the stable workers.

It was these small moments that made you realise that you were falling for him. As much as you wanted to shy away from those feelings, wanting to avoid the potential awkwardness of rejection, you had almost convinced yourself that he was starting to feel the same way. There was something about the way his hand lingered when he boosted you onto your horse, or when he would wrap an arm around you for warmth the second you dared to shiver in his presence.

This delusion came crashing down one summer evening five months into your friendship, as you entered the Tipsy Bison and were immediately pulled aside by Tommy, before you even had a chance to raise a hand in a wave at the table where Joel sat with Ellie and her friend, Cat. Tommy quietly explained to you in the corner of the room that you were no longer patrolling with Joel, effective immediately. He grimaced at your attempt at protest, and even more so when you asked when he was going to tell Joel. The immediate suspicion at this reaction was quickly confirmed when you looked over Tommy’s shoulder at Joel, who was watching the pair of you intently before quickly shifting to look back at the teens sitting in front of him. His face said it all. This was his choice.

You decided to let Tommy off the hook with a quiet, “I understand,” before stalking out of the bar, shoving past the multiplying crowd that tried to funnel inside. 

After a few days of trying and failing to catch him alone between shifts on patrol, you were finally able to grab Joel by the arm and physically pull him aside on his porch as he tried to enter his home late one evening. His refusal to even look at you acted as the fuel you needed to begin your aggressive diatribe.

‘What the fuck, Joel?” You asked, unable to stop your leg from bouncing while you stood. 

“Did you need something?” Was his curt response, face hard and so deeply unlike the way he would typically look at you.

“Why did you want to switch partners? Did I do something wrong?” The wobble in your voice betrayed the hurt you had tried to tuck away inside of you, and you suddenly felt incredibly silly for confronting him. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? I was having dinner with you and Ellie literally the night before. And you’ve been avoiding me since then.” 

He seemed to think through his response carefully before speaking. The warm brown eyes that you were accustomed to were almost black, and his brows were tightly furrowed as he spoke. “Thought it’d be easier to get Tommy to pass the message along. He’s always been the more cordial type. Didn’ think it needed to be a whole thing.” 

He started to unlock his front door, back turning to you as he continued.

“I jus’ felt that things were getting a little too cosy over here. I know what I need to know when patrolling, and I sure as hell don’t need any more hand holding from someone who’s barely known a life that wasn’ all…soft and easy.”

The door opened to the dark hallway and he stepped in and grabbed something from the console table by the door. It was your purple fleece blanket, the one that you, Joel, and Ellie had been sitting under just a few nights ago while watching one of Joel’s favourite westerns. He shoved it towards your hands. “There, been meanin’ to get that back to you. No need to drag this out any longer.”

Your jaw clenched as you stared at the blanket, quickly snatching it from him as the embarrassment flooded your body. How could you have let yourself think that he actually wanted you here with him? 

“Y’know what, Joel. Fuck you.” You said with a sniff. You quickly turned and walked away, refusing to give him an opportunity to respond. 

After throwing the soft blanket in the coat closet of your home haphazardly, you decided to head straight to the Bison for a strong drink. The first good looking man with brown eyes and broad shoulders that you saw ended up taking you home, in the first of your many attempts to extricate your feelings from Joel.

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A scraping noise from the other room brought you back, reminding you that you had a task at hand, and with a click of the button on the small handheld mic, you spoke.

“Jackson, this is the bait and tackle shop, checking in.” While you waited for a response from Jackson, you sat on an old stool and angrily picked at the loose threads hanging from the ripped hem of your shirt. Stupid Miller, making you feel inferior and indebted to him. Not even giving you the decency of fighting with you. 

At least a conversation with Alfred, the kindly old man who took the late shift for the radio office in Jackson, always made you feel better. His old war stories of encrypting and sending radio signals got you through many lonely evenings at the Tipsy Bison, and he had become sort of a grandpa-like figure to you.

“Hey there, birdie, we hear ya.” You heard some paper moving, as he shuffled through to find the appropriate area map. “Snow’s getting pretty bad out here, it’s looking like you’re going to need to buckle down and wait it out for the morning. It’ll be a longer walk than usual with the way the wind is whipping up the snow.” No, no, nope. Not happening.

You bolted up and leaned over the table with the radio, as if it was possible that you had merely heard him wrong and getting closer to the speaker would fix things. 

“No, Alf, it’ll be fine, I can’t stay here overnight with-’’ You cut yourself off, suddenly aware of how loud you were talking and let out a long suffering sigh. “It’s just. The snow’s not that bad, we’ll probably be fine walking back.”

Alfred makes some deliberation noises, unnecessarily keeping his mic on the whole time as if he thought it would make you feel better that he was actually considering it, before finally responding.

“I don’t know, kid…I would feel guilty if you froze to death out there. I know you don’t get along too well with that Miller boy.” Alfred hesitates once again, before sighing. “I’m sorry, dove, I can’t let you walk in this weather.”

You groaned dramatically into the microphone, rubbing your spare hand across your eyes wearily. With a quick peek at the shut door in front of you to check for shadows through the frosted glass that might indicate that Joel is listening, you lowered your tone to what seemed like a sufficiently quiet level, and continued. 

“I just. I fu-”  you paused, remembering the old man's dislike for sailor talk. “I made a mistake. Everything's fine, no one is hurt! Just. He's doing that thing where he makes me feel like an idiot. And it just sucks because it’s like I proved him and his stupid doubts about me right. I hate when he’s right.”

“Birdie, you know that you're not an idiot. You do the same job as him, and I can tell you from experience that you don't call back to Jackson with any more issues on the road than he does. Who cares what that silly boy thinks about you? More importantly, are you going to let it get in the way of doing a good job?”

You let a small smile pass onto your face. He knew you well, and your bruised ego for the earlier mishap was already painful enough without adding any more unprofessionalism into the mix. People in Jackson relied on you, and you wouldn’t let a man who clearly didn’t think about you more than he needed to to get into your head.

“You’re right, Alf. If you say we need to hang out here overnight, we can do that.” You made sure to shake off any remaining angst that had uncharacteristically been plaguing you since you first got given this job, and tried to become the person that people in Jackson knew you as. “Just to confirm, we will be utilising the emergency supplies here, so please note down that the food, water, and oil for the lamps will need replenishing by the next pair out.”

You could practically hear the smile on the old man’s face, “Will do, dove. Good night. Don’t kill each other.”

After placing the receiver back in place you take in a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. The herculean task of thanking Miller sincerely and being amicable for the rest of the evening was daunting. It practically made you shudder, but you would be lying if you didn’t acknowledge that there was a part of you excited at the prospect. You missed him, as absurd as that was given your history.

With an armful of sleeping bags, a lamp, a couple of pouches of jerky, and a glass bottle labelled ‘Pete’s- Hands off!’ you exited the staff room, trying to appear as confident as you would be on a typical, Joel-less day. You plopped the items down on the counter unceremoniously, looking up to find him now sitting on an old camping chair in the darkness. Barely any moonlight made it through the thin gaps of the shutters, so you focused your attention on lighting the lamp, ignoring the weight of his stare on your form as you did so.

“Heads up,” you called out a moment later, quickly grabbing and tossing a pouch of jerky at him. The trajectory of the throw was mostly aimed towards his hands, but you did use a careless flick of the wrist that would have absolutely resulted in it smacking against his body if his reflexes weren’t annoyingly good for his age.

The lit lamp that you placed on the floor between you and Joel brought the room into a softer state, and you could see that the earlier anger on Joel’s face had at least partially subsided. You dragged an old crate that once held fishing lures and flipped it, sitting down to his left hand side, before opening your own pouch of jerky and digging into the stale meat. 

"So," You began hesitantly, lifting your eyes from the floor to where he sat, feeling a pang of an emotion you didn’t want to identify when you found him already looking at you. "I guess I just wanted to say thank you. Properly. For saving me, or whatever. I shouldn’t have approached the car without backup."

If it hadn’t been so awkward, you probably would have been laughing at his incredulous face, eyebrows lifted upwards in shock at your sudden attempt at sincere appreciation. When it became clear that you weren’t waiting to attack again, he finally spoke up.

"It’s alright. Could have happened to anyone, I suppose." He seems almost unsettled at your sudden shift in attitude, but also doesn’t seem to want to provoke you again.

You bit back any part of you that wanted to emphasise that it really could have happened to anyone, even with experience, and instead focused on chewing the tough meat. It was surprising to say the least, when Joel was the first one to speak again. 

"Why did you, though? Tommy say something about needing another vehicle?" Joel’s tone was hesitant, as if he felt he shouldn’t be continuing the conversation any further. 

"Oh. Um. No, I wasn’t going to check on the car. I just saw a bobblehead on the dash. Spider-Man. I thought Ellie might have liked it." Your eyes narrowed as you looked at Joel, expecting him to start on you again. What you didn’t expect was the short laugh that followed. It was nice, and you couldn’t help the small smile in return at your own expense.

"Spider-Man, huh? What a reason to risk getting bit." He passed you the final stick of jerky from the pouch he was holding as he spoke. A peace offering. With a wipe of his hands against his jeans, he continued. "Y’all are still close, aren’t you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Your leg bounced at the use of the term ‘still.’ As in, despite everything between us. You batted that thought away quickly. The friendship between you and Joel had crashed and burned after he decided that he couldn’t work with you anymore, but Ellie had only seemed to latch on tighter. Whenever you pointed out that he didn’t seem to think you were worth getting to know, Ellie would roll her eyes at you.

"Yeah, I guess we are. Is that a problem?" You said while shifting in your seat, knowing that he probably would be well within his rights to tell you to stay away from his child. "Because I can tell you right now that despite her insistence, I’ve refused to teach her how to throw knives, at least not until she turns sixteen-" 

"What? No. Should I be concerned?" He cut you off with a concerned look on his face.

Realising that you may have just given Ellie up, you fake a laugh that Joel could have believed if he hadn’t heard your real laugh so many times before.

"No, of course not. That was just a hypothetical." He continued to stare you down, resulting in you giving in more quickly than you were proud of. "Don’t….tell her I told you that."

He gave you an actual laugh at your desperate plea, a sound you hadn’t heard for almost a year. That familiar warmth in your chest and fingertips returned at the sound, and you found yourself chuckling too. Thoughts of all of the times that he would begrudgingly break when you teased him, despite insisting that you weren’t funny rushed through your mind. And how he would threaten to sic Ellie on you whenever you teased him for his achy knees. And how tight your chest would feel when he would look at you over from on his horse while you rode beside each other. As if…No. Nope. Those memories had been securely tucked away in the back of your mind for months now, and you sure as hell were not going to let them out after a year of getting nothing from him. 

You forced the smile off of your face in an instant and stood up somewhat abruptly.

"I-uh, found something in the supplies!" The broad grin you plastered on was an attempt at masking your strange behaviour, but, frankly, a smile from you aimed at Joel was strange enough in of itself. 

Joel watched as you grabbed the glass bottle and lifted it into the air with a little shake to show it off.

"It’s fucking cold in here. This’ll warm us right up!" You said as you uncorked the bottle and immediately tossed back a healthy swig of the mysterious clear liquid. Yep, definitely moonshine. And yes, definitely strong.

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A couple of drinks in, and things had already become so much easier between you two. Not only were you both warmer, in spite of the blizzard on your doorstep that was making your breath visible in the air, but you were both laughing freely. 

"And then, he takes the shot and the bullet whizzes by, easily fifteen feet from the deer! The way that smug look dropped off of his stupid face…" You trailed off, cheeks slightly reddened from the alcohol that was far stronger than even the typical homemade stuff back at the Tipsy Bison. Whoever brewed this batch clearly anticipated the need for the strongest shit possible in a bottle small enough to fit in an emergency supply cache, and for that you were appreciative. 

You were sitting on the floor,, one knee up and your back against one of the empty shelves that once held fishing rods. The crate you had been sitting on now held your winter coat, inadvisably discarded due to the sudden heat you felt. Joel sat back in his chair, a far sight more relaxed than he was a mere hour ago. He was chuckling at your mockery of Emmett, your current patrol partner who was definitely a beginner at hunting.

Joel’s shadows danced across the dark room as he lightly shook from the laughter, illuminated by the cheap oil lamp that sat in front of you, and you watched with a dazed grin. His presence used to be a comforting one for you, and seeing his shape fill up a room again made you feel strangely at peace. With the gift of alcohol in your system, it was easy to ignore the painful familiarity that came from being with him like this. You bring your chin over to rest on your raised knee as you look up at him while he speaks.

"That boy definitely has too big of a mouth for his own good. I heard him out in the Bison a week or so ago, going off at a couple of the other guys about how he’s always pullin’ all these different ladies." He shook his head in disapproval while bringing the bottle back up to his lips, taking a generous drink.

"Oh yeah? He say anything about me?" You couldn’t help yourself from asking with a teasing grin. Just the previous week you had to turn Emmett down after he insisted that he could show you a good time. He was a handsome young man, but his age and his use of the term ‘older ladies’ when describing his type made it clear that he would be too annoying to even spend one night with. Besides, you were only in your early thirties, and the thought of being with someone that considered that ‘older' made you physically cringe.

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You into him? I didn’ take you for the type that would want a…pretty boy." He says derisively while picking at the label on the bottle.

You were momentarily distracted by the flex of his calloused fingers against the bottle before snapping out of it to respond, "Eh, I guess you don’t know me that well, then do you, Miller?"

His fingers froze in place and he looked at you humorlessly, causing you to awkwardly laugh and acquiesce "Nah, of course not. He just keeps pulling stupid shit to try and impress me. I had to finally put my foot down the other day and tell him that him wasting ammo on trick shots wasn’t gonna let him into my pants."

Joel let out a small breath that sounded sort of like a laugh but not quite, as he resumed picking at the crumbling label and confirming "I s’pose that means you aren't the cougar he was seeing, then?"

A dramatic gasp escaped your lips. "That son of a bitch! Oh, I am going to give him hell next week. No wonder his little buddies have been givin’ me weird looks recently."

Joel laughed for real that time and you were unable to help yourself from relaxing back against the shelf at the sweet sound.

"I don't know why they would partner you with someone like that," he chuckled, reaching over to finally pass you the bottle that he had been holding. 

As you grabbed the bottle, your fingers briefly brushed and you sensed him tense slightly. This action, combined with his previous statement, made your stomach feel weird. The alcohol bypassed the part of your brain that was screaming at you to shut up, things are going well! and you found yourself saying, "Well, I guess they did that so I could teach him a coupl‘a things. Some people benefit from a little hand holding, I guess." 

You trained your stare into Joel’s eyes, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction at the way his face fell at you directly addressing how you were once partners.

Quiet taps of your fingernail against the side of the cool glass bottle resting in your hand fill the room while he seems to look for words. Something about your statement caught him off guard, as if he somehow didn’t think that you would remember or care about his words. Realising this unsettled him, and you revelled in the glimpse of vulnerability that appeared across his face. 

"I s’pose that makes sense." He finally acknowledged, looking deeply uncomfortable at the way you continued to stare at him bitterly.

"I guess it does."

A few more beats passed in silence as you waited with bated breath for anything, an acknowledgment, an apology, hell, even another insulting explanation for his choices, anything, but it didn’t come. You let out a quiet sigh, placing the bottle on the floor as you stood and dusted off your pants.

"I think I’m gonna call it a night, Joel."

He nodded without a word, eyes remaining stuck at the point on the ground where you had been sitting. Rather than waste your time waiting for anything else from him, you turned and grabbed one of the thin sleeping bags that sat on the counter, walking over to the side of the room furthest from where Joel was still sitting and rolling it out in one quick move. 

Now that you were far away from the heat he naturally seemed to radiate, the cold suddenly felt a lot more biting against your skin. You crawled into the sleeping bag, rolling to face the wall and pressing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to just fall asleep and get this confusing evening over with. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was a quiet, defeated sigh from the opposite side of the room.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

a/n: nobody look at me rn okay, i'm juST TRYING SOMETHING OUT!!!!! okay. well. this the first fic i've written and it's looking like it's gonna be 3 parts. please give me any kind of feedback!!!

also a huge collosal thank you to @sinsofsummers for helping me SO MUCH and generally being the most incredible human angel creature to walk the earth with endless patience

[sinsofsummers]

mya i have meant to read this for AGES. but i’m here and i have THOTS-

laura stop pointing out mya’s first line challenge: level IMPOSSIBLE

cause im still trying to figure out what kind of crack u put in ur first lines. sets the scene so well, sets the vibe so well, makes me wanna cry

period joel is a grumpy dumb dumb idiothead and i love him

so i have this tommy brainrot that tommy is in fact just as much of an ass, but he’s charming about it like javi p whereas joel is outwardly dumb and grumpy

perhaps this is canon but either way i LAUGHED AT THIS cause tommy is def warm-hearted to everyone but u get to know him and that man is an IDIOT

GULP

GULPPPPPP YOUR WRITING IS SO SEXC MYA

like that was the entire point of this ss. the lyricism of your writing hits at the most unexpected but most rewarding parts and i LOVE.

HAD TO SET MY PHONE DOWN

HAD TO RUN AWAY AND STAND ON A CHAIR

couldnt find a reaction meme that worked so here’s one of me:

(in my old apt but i digress)

I- I-

BARK BARK ANDDJKWKQOWOEKWOWOWKSNSNSK

I LOVED THIS SO MYCH MYA I LOVED IT

Soft & Sweet | Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

Warnings/tags: Jackson era. So much tension. Fluff. Some angst. Foul language. Suggestive material. Grumpy Joel. Anxious reader. Soft Joel. Insecure Joel. Somewhat innocent reader; not clueless, just inexperienced. Implied age gap, but numbers are not specified. No mentions of body type or race.

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: honest to god this started as one thing, and turned into something completely different but i’m not…upset about it? also, thank you to @cupofjoel who literally listened to me talk about this so much for some reason ?? & for reading bits and giving me feed back ?? such a wonderful human

Joel Miller was easily your least preferred choice of a patrol partner.

There was no doubting the feeling was mutual, either, but the fact of the matter was that you two were a perfect match. You were shorter, faster, and easier to hide; he was stronger, wiser, and knew the patterns of raiders and infected alike. A constant push and pull that gave the quaint city of Jackson a semblance of peace.

In the beginning of your time together, that was what you had to remind yourself. That your time beyond the gates was a representation of how deeply you felt for the people of Jackson, and how important it was for you to keep them and yourself safe.

Regardless of how annoyingly grumpy and disengaging your partner was.

At first, it offended you. How could a man cut from the same cloth as the warm hearted Tommy Miller be such an ass? You had been promised he was like that with everyone, and that you were no special target of his distaste. Over the first few weeks he had occupied Jackson, you observed this, and were pleased to find out he was, in fact, like that with everyone. Well, everyone except the foul mouthed girl he arrived with who you took a liking to.

Ellie was fun. Ellie knew how to relax. You often thought what a good team you two would make if she wasn't a kid, strictly forbade from participating in patrol.

So, you got stuck with Joel.

What once felt offensive turned into pure annoyance at his unwillingness to entertain you. The first few times you two rode together passed the walls of Jackson, you thought he may actually strangle you for your nonstop questions and chatter.

"You really do have a stick up your ass, old man." You had told him when he ignored every attempt you made at getting to know him.

Eventually, your annoyance turned into understanding. He had no obligation to you, other than watching your back and keeping you both safe, both of which were promises - despite his sour attitude - you never doubted he would maintain. And with that understanding, you found opportunity.

Just because Joel didn't want to talk didn't mean you couldn't. And whether he liked it or not, he had no choice but to listen.

That was how it started. Utilizing the stoic man as your very own personal diary. Your rides were underwhelming for the most part, and the tellings of your personal life and worries seemed far more entertaining than feeding into his brooding silence.

You told him about anything and everything. Your distaste for the messy habits of your housemate, who despite being a few years older than you, did not keep the space as neat as you would have liked. Your discontent for the choice of dinner options. How excited you were for the new movie screenings, as some of the other patrolmen had found new tapes during their scavenging.

How much you missed your parents.

How hard of a time you were having making real friends.

Some days, you had even forgotten he was there. Always trotting a few paces behind you, silent, observing. Eventually, you got the impression he wasn't retaining anything you even said, but you didn't stop. The routine was too engrained in you. You met at the stables, he asked the same three questions - Did'ya pick up your gun? Did'ya double check the post assignment? Do you have your flashlight? (you forgot it once, and he wouldn't let you live it down) - then you mounted your horses, said goodbye to the men at the gate, and once you were a good mile away from Jackson, you released the flood gates.

What you didn't know, however, was that you couldn't have been more wrong. Joel was listening. Retaining every word, in fact. Calculating everything to memory, even deducing his own conclusions and opinions about the matters you held near and dear to your heart. He had gotten use to the one sided therapy sessions you had every week, and perhaps a small part of him, as subconscious as it may have been, even enjoyed it.

So when you showed up to this mornings patrol quieter than the dead, Joel knew something was off.

He was watching you. You rode ahead of him, as you always did, shoulders slightly slumped and eyes forward, a large contrast from the way they usually flitted about to take in the sights around you. Your animated nature reduced to tame compliance to the silence he had once begged for between the two of you.

Now, he couldn't help the gnawing sensation of missing the sound of your voice, a pain in his gut telling him this wasn't just any old fluke.

About forty-five minutes into your ride towards he nearest rest stop, you heard him expel a great sigh before the sound of his stallions hooves picked up, and suddenly, he was riding beside you. When you didn't acknowledge him, Joel rolled his eyes.

"Alright, what's wrong?" he grumbled. That earned him a side eye, noting the unusual droop to your normally bright features.

You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean what's wrong?

"Somethin's wrong," he pressed.

"Why do you say that?" you challenged, a lilt of annoyance in your voice as you shot him a scowl.

He tried to bite back the edge in his voice, but it came unprompted. "Because you ain't said a damn word in almost an hour, and I'm pretty sure that's an all time record."

You huffed out an incredulous laugh, your breath painting soft patterns of smoke in the cold air, shaking your head rapidly. "You know," you started, returning your bleak gaze to the path ahead of you. "For someone who bitched about how much I talk, you gotta weird way of appreciating me shutting up for once."

He was quiet, then, and you were instantly filled with a wave of regret at how quickly your sharp tongue attacked him.

Joel wasn't too offended. He had been ripped on a lot worse by people who were substantially nastier than you. He was, however, concerned. He knew what it was liked to feel cornered in a moment of uncertainty, so instead of pressing you further in the moment, he took a calculated breath, tearing his eyes off of of you and nodding his head towards the structure approaching in the distance.

"Let's rest for a bit, yeah? Winds pickin' up more than I'd like to be dealin' with."

The safe house was cozy, quaint. Quiet. A one story studio format, likely an old vacation home. They had gotten the fire place cleared a few months prior, making it the perfect place to dwell during long patrols. Joel crouched in front of it now, lighting the wood while you went through the procedure of barricading the door. You had yet to have any issues this far out from the perimeter, but you didn’t like taking any chances. That was something you and Joel agreed on.

Better safe than sorry.

As soon as the flames were lit, warmth instantly overcame the small room, and you felt a weight lifted off you in more ways than one when you shimmied out of your bulky winter coat and boots. Your toes cracked against the hardwood floors as you padded over to the fireplace, settling down criss cross beside Joel as he prodded at the wood.

You could feel him eyeing you, and it took every bit of willpower you had to keep your gaze focused on the flames, hands outstretched slightly to soothe your chilled fingertips.

He cleared his throat, setting the prong back into its holder. “I never said I wanted’ya to shut up,” he grumbled, and your stomach instantly fell at the sadness laced in his tone.

You sighed, finally allowing yourself to look over at him. His features remained hard as they always were, but his eyes spoke a different story. Soft. Apologetic. He may have driven you absolutely crazy, but you knew Joel Miller was a decent man. Decent enough for you to confide in, and certainly decent enough to at least give some sort of shit about you.

“I know,” you said quietly, swallowing the unexpected lump in your throat. You were clearly feeling sensitive today. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

Joel shook his head, settling down to sit beside you. You both looked into the flames, seemingly lost in their allure. This was usually how stopping at the safe house went; dawdling around the fireplace, taking turns napping, the occasional reluctance on Joel’s end when you begged and thoroughly convinced him to join you in one of the few board games or puzzles scattered about.

But the energy was different today. You both knew that.

“I got asked on a date,” you blurted out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they passed your lips.

Joel’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. That certainly was not what he had expected you to say. In all your time as partners, relationships had never come up as a topic of conversation. Friendships, sure. But Joel was more than confident that there was an unspoken rule about anything beyond that: you didn’t pry into his love life - as so many others in his small circle thought they had the right to do - therefore, he had no right asking about yours.

He waited a moment, carefully collecting his thoughts. “That…sounds like it should be a good thing, ain’t it?” he asked, cocking his head over his shoulder to study you. You still had your eyes on the flames, arms wrapped around your knees that were cradled against your chest.

You shrugged, nodding a few times. He couldn’t help but blow a soft chuckle through his nose. “Then why d’ya look like it’s the worst news you’ve gotten all year?”

You covered your face with your hands, groaning. “Because-!” you heaved, the frustration you had worked tirelessly to shove down that morning returning instantly upon his questioning. You felt helpless. You felt ridiculous. Being able to shake off boughs of otherwise meaningless emotions was a strength of yours. It was one of the very few reasons you thought Joel may have put up with you: you didn’t take any shit, and neither did he.

To be dancing with the idea of letting those walls fall too far down…it was a vulnerability you didn’t like entertaining.

You took a slow breath in through your nose, out through your mouth, gradually bringing your hands down from your face. Joel watched the way your jaw tightened as you appeared to wrestle your thoughts into words. Your lips parted once, but you shut them instantly. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you began picking at the edges of your nails. Maybe that would distract you from the embarrassment that was to follow.

“Because I’ve never really…done that before,” you mumbled, and when he didn’t speak at first, you thought he may have not heard you.

Cautiously, you dragged your eyes towards Joel. He was still looking at you, but now, there was a soft sort of inquisition to his eyes.

“What do’ya mean never done that before?” he questioned, an arch to his brow.

You felt your cheeks filling with heat, chewing on the inside of your lip to keep yourself from becoming a blabbering mess. An anxiety filled the pit of your stomach, one that suggested you weren’t all too thrilled to be having this conversation.

Having this conversation with Joel.

You knew he wouldn’t make fun of you, he never had in any of your endless ramblings. But that didn’t stop you from feeling the affects of the intimate nature of the topic.

You shrugged again, slower this time. “I don’t know…dated. Gone on a date. Been that close to a guy, I mean, hell, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet-”

“Wait,” Joel cut you off, a deep crease forming between his brows. “You ain’t even had your first kiss?”

When you looked at him then, he could have crumbled under the weight of your somber eyes. Filled with a disappointment and shame he knew all too well.

Fuck.

“Didn’t have much time, what with the world ending and all,” you muttered. It reminded Joel just how young you were. How much you had missed. How much you had yet to see, learn, experience. He would never pity you — he respected you far too much for that. He did, however, feel for you. He knew you. Knew what you had to offer the world, and you were given no chance to do so. Something so basic, so pure, robbed from you.

He sighed softly, returning his eyes back to the flames. How desperately he wished he could burn away his worries in them. He was sure you felt the same way, too. “S’not somethin’ you should overthink. If it’s gonna happen, it’ll happen.” Never did Joel Miller think he would be giving relationship advice. At least not to someone other than Ellie, and even then, he hoped it was a good long while before he even had to entertain the idea. He certainly didn’t feel qualified.

“But what if—” you stopped yourself again, the same discomfort invading your stomach at the thought of revealing such sensitive insight. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire, or the security of the safe house. Or maybe it was just Joel, but you realized then that there was no other time, place, or person you would rather let your guard down for.

“What if I’m no good at it?” It was hardly a whisper.

“That ain’t possible.” He said it so quickly. Too quickly. So much so that you were both exchanging looks at each other at the same time, the panic seizing his features in a faint blush, the heat rising in your own cheeks at…what? You couldn’t pinpoint at first the reason why his assurance made you react in such a way, until the heat of his eyes on you was more intense than the fire.

There was no denying that Joel Miller was one of the most handsome men in Jackson. You had acknowledged that, realized the idea was far too preposterous to entertain, and stored it away the moment you met him. And now here the thought was, rushing back in and invading your brain with a sick sense of desire.

Joel cleared his throat heartily, immediately reverting his gaze back to the fire. “Maybe you could–”

Again, the words came before you knew what you wanted to say. How much you wanted to say. This was not your usual dynamic. You were use to a free tongue around him, and now, you were second guessing every word you spoke. This was why you didn’t foster those ideas. This was why you treaded carefully with every man in Jackson: your sense of self slowly started to feel stripped from you the moment you caught whiff of being roped in, and that terrified you.

Of course he had thought about it. How could he have not? You were beautiful, spritely, and confident. Not in a pompous fashion, but in a way that demanded you were sure of yourself. It was a rare trait for most of the women he had met thus far in Jackson.

And yet, he had never seen you more indecisive than in this very moment.

Your lingering words penetrated him with an unforeseen force, and he held his breath, suddenly vividly aware of the topic of conversation and what you may have been insinuating.

Beautiful, spritely, confident. And way too young for him.

“Listen, I don’t-” He tried to start, wondering if he was working towards talking you out of your line of thought or talking himself out of considering it. But you were already sitting up onto your knees, facing him with a dire look in your eyes.

“No one would know.” Your voice was a rushed whisper, contradicting the very words it spoke, as if you were shielding the idea from the universe. That way, it couldn’t get its grasp on it, chew it up and spit it out before it even had the chance to breathe into life.

You couldn’t believe yourself, a new sort of desperation you hadn’t experienced bubbling to the surface. You blinked at him rapidly while you spoke. “I mean I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t tell, it would only be one time. You’d be doing me a favor, it’s not like it actually means — I mean it’s not that it doesn’t mean anything, I just—”

Joel reached out for you then, his hand coming up to grip you by the cheeks, squishing your lips into a pout and shushing your terribly embarrassing ramble. The first time he was able to shut you up. This was the chatter he was use to.

You felt your stomach drop. You weren’t sure if it was due to the impending rejection, or because the burn of his hand on your skin left you in a daze. Either way, you were silent. Wide eyes on him, attempting to read his ever indecipherable expression.

“Listen darlin’,” he said, his even tone giving you equal parts comfort and unease. You thought you could swim in the darkness of his eyes, save for the flames that glossed off of them. Intentional, focused. “Don’t think for a moment that the thought of kissin’ you is somethin’ I wouldn’t enjoy, I just…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He released your cheeks then. You shouldn’t be offended. Rationally, you knew that. But you couldn’t ignore the festering anger. You pushed up to your feet, staring down at him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

“Why not?” you challenged, the bite to your tone making no effort to cover up your flustered offense to his denial.

Joel looked up at you with a tilted head and frown, not expecting such an outburst. You had always had a bit of a temper, sure. But perhaps he had gotten so use to it directed towards other people and things he had no relation to that its presence now was unsettling.

He let out a heavy sigh before groaning to his feet, both of you facing each other in a stand off of ambivalence, desire, and caution.

“Because,” he started, raising his brows at you. “You’re – we aren’t—” he struggled with his words, displaying a frustrated countenance at the inability to find them. You waited, your nails digging into your biceps where they were crossed. He looked around, his hands waving reflexively in the air as he explained. “We’re all’lone out here, and you’re…you’re clearly feelin’ upset. Tommy trusted me to look out for’ya. Last thing I need is to go on disrespectin’ or - or takin’ advantage of you like that while you’re on my watch.”

You sneered a chuckle, shaking your head at him. “Take advantage of me? I asked you to do it! Do you really think I’m that fucking naive?” There was a foreign agitation to your voice. “Besides, it’s just a stupid little kiss!”

“If it’s so goddamn stupid, why’re you askin’ me to do it?” he snapped back, a flustered blush rushing up through his neck and into his cheeks.

“Because you’re the only one I trust with this kinda stuff, you jerk!”

Heat. Heat was rising and flowing through the room, through both of you.

“Fine!” he shouted, running out of words to combat you with.

“Fine!”

How you came to be where you were, standing chest to chest, the tension morphing the space between you, heaving frantic breaths into each others faces, neither of you knew. Neither of you seemed to mind, either.

Your hands fell to your sides then, craning your neck up to look at Joel. His nostrils were flared wide, the familiar etch between his brows prominent. A shiver ran down your spine then when he damped his lips, slowly. The emotion that had built over the minutes slowly dissipated just by the sight of his eyes on you. Your own lips parted in a soft breath, and you caught him glance down at them.

He swallowed hard. “Fine.” This time, when he spoke the word, it was soft. Definitive. Expression slowly shifting back to the unreadable neutrality. He didn’t keep you guessing long, though. His hands reached out then, taking a final step to close the distance fully between you two, carefully lifting his palms to cradle either side of your face. You were frozen, eyes permanently glued to him, fingers twitching at your sides.

His hands were rough, calloused, but delicate in the way they held you. You felt an overwhelming warmth begin in your stomach and spread out over the rest of you while he studied you like this, searching your eyes for something.

Uncertainty, regret. Anything that would stop him from moving forward with what he was about to do. But there was none, just wide eyes and plush, parted lips that peered up at him with anticipation. And he just couldn’t help himself.

Slowly, one of his thumbs dragged across your bottom lip, watching as it bobbed in place before he was leaning forward, and you were washed in the scent of him. His nose nudged yours, eyes falling half shut, but yours were still gawking, waiting. The anticipation almost too much to bare that your hands abandoned your sides, coming up to grip him at the elbows. It must have been all he needed, as the next moment was consumed by the feeling of his lips molding against yours.

For the second time that day, Joel Miller discovered a way to shut you up.

He was hesitant at first; barely there, the coarse hair that coated his upper lip tickling your skin. Hardly grazing the supple petals against you. Instinctively, your fingers dug into the bend of his arms when he applied pressure, fully allowing the weight of himself to kiss you. Your eyes finally fell shut, the loss of sense permitting you to be fully encapsulated by him.

Him. Joel. His strong hands that held you, the familiar scent of him, wood and earth mixed with something sweet, his broad body that pressed into yours, claiming the moment for just the two of you. You’re not sure how it happened, between a breath, a brief moment for you two to recollect yourselves, before you dove back in head first. His hands abandoned your face, finding their way to wrap around your waist, bringing you to your toes and flushed against his chest. Your own reacted on instinct and weaved around his neck, and your fingers found refuge in his silver dusted curls.

Nerves were nonexistent. You just felt him, shocked by how easily it was to bend into his will. How much time you had spent over analyzing this moment for it to be reduced to such simplicity. Whether that was because it really was this simple, or because Joel made it so, you didn’t know.

The tip of his tongue just barely grazed your bottom lip, but never pushed for access. The contact alone ignited you, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that lodged in the back of your throat, a flutter traveling below your stomach. Joel’s hands squeezed your hips in response to the sound, and just as quickly as it started, it ended.

He compelled himself to let go, pulling you away from him, the space between you uncomfortably vast. You didn’t even have the chance to think before he reached up for your hands around his neck and gradually pulled them away, too. He stepped back from you, leaving you in a concrete daze of exasperation, newfound lust, and worst of all, a residue of heartbreak from how short the moment was cut.

“We oughta get goin’,” he grumbled, already turning to retrieve his backpack and put the fire out.

You didn’t move a muscle, frozen in the spot where Joel Miller kissed you. Where he changed everything you ever felt inside in an instant. You could see his skin still painted in pink, cheeks flushed, and lips glistening. The emotional whiplash his sudden change incited made you feel like you wanted to disappear, a lump forming in your throat. One you refused to give in to, swallowing it down as you slowly willed yourself to breathe again.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, okay.” And then, you were grabbing your own pack, silently helping him tear down the barricade you had built, and mounting the horses.

The entire rest of the patrol was silent. A rarity. And while words were never spoke aloud, there was an unspoken energy in the air that wailed for attention. You would acknowledge it, if only in your mind for the time being. You would spend the rest of the ride thinking about Joel’s lips, the alluring look in his eyes right before he kissed you. You would recount the tender nature of his touch, and how it gifted your skin with such delicacy. You would think of his breath, the way it quickened and hitched, desperate in between each touch of your lips. You would think about him.

And as soon as you got back into Jackson, you would be finding any and every excuse to cancel your date.

tag list: @casa-boiardi @dinsdjrn @scarletsloveletter @subconsciouscollapse @thetriumphantpanda @mommasnakesss @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers @morning-star-joy @whichwitchwanda @prettyangelsthings @nostalxgic @aphterthoughtt @drewharrisonwriter (if you asked to be on the tag list, and aren’t on here, it’s because tumblr will not allow me to tag you for some reason! pls feel free to comment about it so I can double check if you’re on the list or if it’s a tagging issue).

[sinsofsummers]

sensational; part iii

6.1k | joel miller x f!innocent!reader part one | part two

summary: joel continues teaching you everything you need to know about desire. warnings: smut smut smut, 18+, mdni. yearning, teasing, thigh-sitting, grinding, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), fingers in mouth, joel almost loses control, age gap (reader is 25, joel is 56). i think that's everything. suchhhh impaired(drunk) editing. i'm so osrry. note: here it is. about a week later than i had planned. but i turned 21. cut me some slack HAHAHHAHA i hope you enjoy this unintentional third part to sensational! note: special shoutout to @cavillscurls bc she not only requested that joel call reader "babygirl" at least once but also that there be some aftercare so....this one's all for u pretty girl i hope your day is an easy one <3 ty for being my very first friend on here wahhh

Joel was used to the chill in his bones. It had been there since his thirty-sixth birthday, and had hardly begun to slip away until he'd met that quiet girl with a fiery spirit like his daughter. Ellie had made the icy tension thaw, and then he met her, the woman who'd begun to melt his very insides.

Was it her curiosity that was so...endearing? Astute? An inevitable addition to his patrols with her? Or was it the fact that she'd begun to smile when she saw him, if only a tight-lipped grin that emitted a soft glow like a secret shared with whispers?

He wasn't quite sure he even wanted to know what it was that had him hardening at the sight of her. So instead of thinking about it—something he wasn't very good at, anyway—Joel returned to his current position in the present moment.

He was on horseback, his gloved hands tightened on the reins, and she was perched in front of him, her back pressed gingerly to his chest and her thighs warming the insides of his.

Joel's mind wandered to the morality of his intentions, as they usually did when she was this close to him. What's she want with you, old man? That voice loved to pester him all day long, but he shoved it away this time when he pretended to adjust his hands on the reins. The movement made his arms tense around her frame, and other than her head tilting back to nudge his chin, there was no response. He thanked the horse for its strong, rocking movements that kept her body tense and pressed into his.

This girl is gonna be the death of me, he mused. And what a painless death it would be.

—

Despite the fact that you were entirely okay with this turn of events, you couldn't ignore the instinctual worry that bit at your insides. When you'd shown up at the stables that morning, Joel had already arrived, leading his horse by the reins.

"C'mon, doll," he said in that rough morning voice that was so attractive. "You're ridin' with me today."

Your brows had furrowed, and you looked toward the stables. "What about—"

Joel had shaken his head and held out a gloved hand for you. "Your horse is no good today," he said (with a less-than-convincing note of sorrow in his voice, but why would he show emotion for once in his life?), clearing his throat before finishing, "just you, me, and this one today," with a nod to his horse.

"Is he gonna be okay?" you asked as you took his hand, the heavy weight of his grip returning to you as a comfort now. "What's wrong with him?" He led you forward, but you couldn't help glancing back once more as if you were a kid getting dragged away by her parents from a candy store.

He squeezed your hand and smiled softly at you. "Gimme your hands, sweet girl," he murmured.

You obeyed without a second thought and let him help you up, the winter wind whipped around your hair despite it being trapped in your usual knit hat. His hands tightened around your hips as he booted you up, and you mourned the moment they left your body. Of course, that sensation didn't last long; he clambered up and mounted right behind you.

Oh. You hadn't considered that this would be the solution to your horse being incapable of patrolling today. Maybe this won't be so bad, you thought, feeling your cheeks heat up despite the chill. You let out a shaky breath at the press of his chest against your back.

"My horse?" you asked once more, despite not quite caring anymore; his arms were now enveloping you as he began making his way to the edges of Jackson.

His sigh created a brief cloud of mist in the wintry air, and the vibrations of his voice rumbled through your body. "Broken leg," he explained quietly, and you felt more than heard his words.

You wanted nothing more than to let yourself sink into the feeling of being so close to him like this, with your hips nestled right in front of his pelvis (a fact that was bound to distract you soon enough), but you forced yourself to inquire a final time.

"A broken leg?" you said. You didn't mean for it to come off as disbelieving, but...your mount had been just fine the day before.

Joel shrugged and instead of answering, he leaned in closer to your ear, his chapped lips scratching against the soft skin near your neck; your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. "Darlin'," he murmured, "don't you trust me?" One of his hands dropped the reins and curled around your middle, tugging you by the waist back into him. "I've got so much to teach you today."

The reminder that there was still more, that there was always more for Joel to teach you in the world of desire and sin...it was enough to have your mind going blank and your muscles relaxing at his touch. "Okay," you mumbled, not sure if he could even hear your answer.

His gloved hand moved up just a few inches before moving back to grab the reins, but you didn't miss the feeling (if only for a second) of his fingers brushing against the soft curve of your breasts.

You sighed gently and leaned back enough for your head to rest against his chest, your body full encased by his broad shoulders and burly arms. It was secure, it was safe, and the heady scent of leather and Joel nearly made your head spin. With all the possibilities of what he might want to teach you today, on patrol and so close to one another...you weren't sure you'd survive.

It was only a matter of time before your hands and mind completely lost their withering hold on social decorum.

—

Joel's composure was the first to slip, but you weren't far behind—of course, you'd never admit it to him. You'd made it about an hour outside of Jackson, your body rocking deliciously against his, and nothing but the wind to accompany your soft voices as you spoke.

"Those girls haven't bothered me anymore, you know," you said, turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. You nearly choked at the sight of him already looking down at you, his mustache twitching with his lips in a curious smirk. "Not sure what made them stop, though."

"S'good," he said, his jaw clicking before he continued. "But you're like an open book, doll," he said, eyes flitting back to his surroundings. "I'm sure they could see it on your face."

You huffed, cheeks warming again. "See what exactly?"

Joel reached down with a hand to run his fingers along your thigh, creeping closer to where a puddle of desire was growing between your legs. You leaned your head against his chest again and let out a wanton sigh, wishing his hands would creep closer to where you needed him most.

"That," he said, voice lilting with a satisfied arrogance. "It's that sweet face you make when you're wantin' somethin' from me."

"I don't have a face," you mumbled, your arms looping around his biceps and hanging on to them. It's terribly domestic, a voice murmured in your head, but you shoved it away. "What are you talking about?"

Joel leaned his head down to yours, his mouth in your hair. You felt him smile against your skin and he cooed, "Don't worry your pretty little head about that, babygirl." He moved his hand to your thigh once more and chuckled into your hair when you rolled your hips back into his. "Just let me make you feel good, sweetheart."

You wanted nothing more than to sink into his soft touches and whine his name until he brought you to the edges of ecstasy again, but the winter wind howled in your ears and reminded you that you couldn't afford to lose all composure. There was a very real reason you were on patrol; it would have been irresponsible to indulge in the sweet pleasure of Joel's touch.

And yet—you couldn't help it when you lifted your chin and pressed a swift kiss to his jaw, hoping beyond hope that it might prompt him to touch you, to kiss you, to do anything to relieve the familiar ache that was growing. It was all you could do not to begin begging right then and there.

So when he suggested that the two of you take a pit stop at one of the old abandoned cabins along your route, you nodded feverishly. It's not irresponsible if we're taking proper precautions, you convinced yourself.

"C'mon, dollface," he murmured, pulling the reins to a halt in front of a dilapidated shack in the wintry landscape. "Can't hardly focus with you rubbin' up against me like that."

The breathless chuckle that you let out sounded nothing like yourself; you were giddy with the impending pleasure that was about to come from Joel's lips, his fingers, anything that he might deem useful in bringing you another crumbling orgasm.

You practically fell off the horse into his arms with your tingling excitement, and Joel chuckled as your chest collided with his. “So eager, darlin’,” he mused, adjusting your knit hat where it had fallen below your eyes. “Makin’ me feel so special with that sweet face,” he said, his large hand snaking around your back to support you as the two of you traipsed through the snow to the cabin. 

It was only a little alarming that his hands on your body were so familiar after just a few of his “lessons,” but you chose to ignore it and sink into the weight of his warm hands perforating your coat. “Joel,” you breathed, and you didn’t mean for it to sound so desperate, but you couldn’t help it. 

Joel pushed open the door to the cabin—it took a few tries; it was frozen shut—and tied up his mount. “C’mere,” he whispered as soon as the door was shut behind you. His lips were on yours before you could suck in a breath of anticipation, and oh, how you loved the scrape of his chapped lips against your skin when he moved to press kisses to the line of your jaw. 

“Been thinkin’ of you, dollface,” he mumbled when he pulled back, his breath fanning over your face. “Been thinkin’ of you a lot.”

You blinked up at him, your lips already wet and wanting for more of his attention. With that dark look in his eyes, he looked as if he might devour you without a moment’s notice. Despite your ever-present reticence toward the things that Joel had taught you so far, you couldn’t ignore the way that your mouth had dried, mind empty of all words.

“Yeah?” you managed, swallowing roughly. In pure humiliation, you leaned forward to hide your face in his chest, inhaling that comforting scent of leather—it both cleared and muddled your head. 

He let out a rumbling chuckle, a looser laugh than you’d ever heard from him, and he placed his gloved hands on the sides of your face to tilt your head back up to him. “Yeah,” he said gently, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Probably a little too much, considering I can hardly get through the night without gettin’ a hard-on.”

Your cheeks warmed as you blushed, and you instinctively tried to duck your head once more. Of course, Joel wouldn’t let you; he quickly rid his hands of his gloves and returned them to your cheeks, the chill of his fingertips contrasting with the heat of your cheeks. “You gonna kiss me again?” you asked, your voice small in its pleading. “Please?” you added, the syllable even quieter than the last.

“Fuck’s sake,” Joel murmured, and you weren’t sure if it was to you or to himself. He pulled you closer, and you could feel the hard outline of his cock against your hip. “Gonna kill me, dollface,” he groaned before he captured your lips in another bruising kiss, one that had your legs buckling. He kept you upright, with his hands wrapped tightly around your back.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip and you opened your mouth into his kiss, hardly able to believe how natural it felt to kiss him now. A strangled moan left your mouth and he swallowed it into his own, drinking it like a sweet nectar from the gods. His hands came up to feverishly rid you of your winter coat and you eagerly assisted him, clawing at his layers right after. 

“Teach me,” you begged, pulling away to catch your breath. Your eyes didn’t even open; you were too blissed out to care what you looked like or what he looked like in front of you. “Teach me,” the words came out again, and your bottom lip quivered as if you might shed tears. Your thighs clenched together subconsciously, doing virtually nothing to assist in the pressure that was growing. 

Joel hummed and his thumb carefully swept a caressing touch under your eyes, as if catching any tears that might actually fall. “No need to beg anymore, babygirl,” he cooed, “I’ll teach you everything you want to know.” He tugged your hat from your head and smoothed over your undoubtedly knotted mess of locks. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he flashed a smirk at you. 

“Promise?” you said, again in that small voice that had you almost kicking yourself. You were supposed to be an adult, mature enough to handle all of this. And you are, the voice in your head spoke harshly, you are.

Joel just nodded and tilted his head back, gesturing for you to follow him further into the cabin. “Stand there for me, doll,” he said, leading you into what must have been the living room some twenty years ago. A couch that looked like it might collapse in on itself sat against the wall, the only piece of furniture in the room. 

You stood where he placed you, but his hands dropped from your body when he went to sit down on the couch. With one arm moving to lay across the back of the couch and his jean-clad legs spreading in the way that made you want to kneel in between them, Joel beckoned for you with his other hand. “Now c’mere,” he ushered, and you couldn’t move fast enough. 

Your hands reached out to grab for him, to take off his coat and his shirt and let him lay bare before you like he had in your bed, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart,” he reassured you, “remember?”

You knew this; both times before this Joel had made it clear that you needn’t worry about getting him off. You were supposed to sit back and let him show you how to feel good, but you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to obey his request. You wanted nothing more than to sit on his lap like he’d had you the first time, and you wanted to rub yourself against his cock so you could see how he looked when he was lost in the throes of his desire. 

“Babydoll,” he nudged you gently with his voice, and you blinked. “Hear me?”

Swallowing hoarsely, you shook your head. “Mm?” you hummed in response.

Joel’s lips curled up in a soft smirk. “Already distracted,” he mused to himself. A hand dropped to his thigh, and your eyes latched onto it. You had the sudden urge to take those fingers into your mouth, to feel the strength of his fingertips on your tongue—the fact that those same digits had been shining with your release (more than once) had your legs wobbling once more. 

“You’re gonna stand there,” he said, adjusting himself on the couch in a way that had your eyes glued to the growing tent in his jeans, “and I’m gonna watch while you make yourself come.”

You blanched, and the spot between your legs pulsed at the idea. “What?” You couldn’t help the slight disappointment at the realization that this meant he wouldn’t be touching you.

“You heard me.”

“But…” your hands flexed, needing to hold onto something. Your desperation for release was almost enough to have you sinking to the floor. “But…I don’t know how—”

Joel nodded, “You do. I’ve shown you, remember?” His fingers tapped a few times on his thigh, and his eyes slipped to drag along your body as you stood just a few feet from him. “And you know I can’t always be there when you need to come, babydoll,” he hummed. “I need you to show me you’ve learned.”

“But—”

“Show me,” he said, his voice firm despite the gentleness in his face. He palmed his cock through his pants and bucked his hips up. “C’mon, baby. Be good for me, I’ll make it worth it.”

Despite his instructions, you shuffled forward, arms out and reaching for him. You paused in between his legs, feeling the heat from his legs radiating toward you. 

But Joel only shook his head with an amused smirk. “No, no, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll come just as quick even if I’m just watchin’ you. I need you to show me what you’ve learned,” he repeated his previous instruction. “Touch yourself, sweet girl. Lemme see how you make yourself feel good.”

You didn’t move, unsure of how to begin—as it was now clear that he wouldn’t let you touch him, nor would he be giving into your requests. Standing there in your sweater and jeans and winter boots, you felt foolish. 

“I know you know how to start, baby,” he encouraged you while moving his hand along his hard cock in his jeans. “Take those clothes off, pretty girl.”

With an instruction to follow, your hands began to move, ridding yourself of your sweater and pants, even your thick boots. Standing in just your worn bra, your cotton panties, and your thick wool socks, you looked shyly toward Joel. It felt somewhat humiliating to have his eyes so intently held on you, despite his face being the picture of approval. 

He moved his hand once more and then he was unzipping his jeans and reaching into his pants, letting his cock spring free. He let out a shuddering sigh at the sensation; you were sure there was a thick feeling of relief that washed over him at the removal of any tight restriction on his erection. “C’mon, baby,” he cooed, and your eyes widened as he licked a wide stripe on his palm, returning his hand to his cock to give it a languid stroke. “I know you can do it.”

You gingerly dropped a hand to your waist, fiddling with the worn out elastic band of your panties. In front of you Joel let out a soft sigh, his eyebrows furrowing and his dark eyes growing even darker at the sight of your hand getting closer to your mound, where there was certainly a puddle growing. 

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he said gruffly, beckoning for you to step closer. “I know I said I wouldn’t touch, but holy fuck, dollface…I’ve never needed to feel something so bad in my life.”

You practically fell over your own two feet as you obeyed his request, stepping into the space between his legs. His cock was right there, and you wanted to put your tongue on the tip, to feel that bead of leaking seed that was sliding down the angry red head of his cock. “Joel—”

His only answer was with his two fingers pressing a featherlight touch to your bud, drawing a quick moan from your lips, your eyes closing and your hips rolling into the feeling.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby, I knew it,” Joel murmured, sitting forward and pressing a kiss to your stomach. “You’re always so wet for me, huh?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. Of course you were; he knew this well enough now. But something about the fact that he kept asking…it only made you want him more. 

“Joel, please,” you begged, rolling your hips into his hand again and moaning desperately at the press of his hand against your bud. “I need you to—”

He pulled his hand away and sat back again. “Not yet, dollface,” he reminded you, returning his hand to his cock. “You haven’t even touched yourself, darlin’,” he teased, his tone a mocking coo. 

You let out another strangled whine, but shoved your hand into the waistband of your panties. “Fine,” you sighed, “but it won’t work.” As much as you wanted to come, you were reminded all too well of the last time he asked you to do this. You couldn’t obey his request, and he’d had to make you come all the same. So why would he make you go through the motions again?

Your finger caught on your clit and you inhaled sharply, eyes closing at the addictive sensation. You let your other hand slide up to your chest, instinctively massaging your own breast in the same way that Joel did—at least, as close of a replication as you could make. 

“That’s it, sweet thing,” he said in that southern drawl that had you perpetually weak in the knees. “Lookin’ so good like that, sweetheart, good girl,” he drew out the last two syllables, his teeth audibly gritting as he stroked his cock faster. 

You wanted to continue, wanted to hold onto the feeling of making him proud, but you didn’t know what to do. “Joel,” you begged, “I…” you trailed off.

Both of his hands came to your waist and you opened your eyes at one squeeze of your hips. “C’mere,” he groaned. “Just sit next to me, doll.” He helped you sit next to him, your head resting on the arm of the couch. Your knees came up to your chest, and he looped his thumbs into your panties, ridding you of them in a quick movement. 

Your head was spinning with the hopes that he might give in, that he might not make this foolish game go on for much longer. It had only been a minute or two, but you never wanted to make yourself come if Joel was always going to be so willing. “Joel—”

“Spread those pretty legs for me, baby,” he whispered, his big hands on your knees. When you couldn’t move your legs on your own, he gently nudged them apart, his eyes darting down to your dripping mound. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hand hovering over your folds, “even more appetising than I remember.”

The implication made your head reel. Surely he wouldn’t… 

But your thoughts were interrupted when he sat back at the other end of the couch, his cock sitting at the ready as he dragged his hand over it again. “I’m good at waiting, though,” he murmured to himself. “C’mon, princess,” he sighed, “just like we practiced. Hand on that pretty pussy, baby.”

The whine that left your throat was downright pornographic as you obeyed, the sound of his instructions shooting bullets of pleasure down your spine and straight to that sensitive bud at the crevice of your thighs. 

Just like we practiced, he’d said. You had no desire to disappoint him; you wanted to prove to him that you could do this, you wanted to see that look of flushed pride on his face when he came again. When you’d make yourself come. 

Your fingers slipped around your dripping cunt, still clumsy and untrained despite knowing just how Joel would make you come undone with his touch. You tried your best to replicate it, gliding your fingers in tight circles around your bud, or drawing long stripes in between your folds, but it just made you more frustrated. “Joel,” you whined again, “please.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. “You’re doing it, baby. Look at you, rubbin’ that pretty clit for all it’s worth.” His words were bruisingly confident, but his tone was shaky and the only evidence that he was dangerously close to coming before you. 

“Joel, I—” you circled your clit once more— “I need you to—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, and you felt him shift closer to you—just a centimeter. 

You pulled your own hand away from your clit, despite your body begging for more, and you looked for a moment at the shine on your fingers. “Joel,” you repeated, “I…I want you to tell me what to do.” 

He was silent for a moment. Then, “That so?” His movements had stopped. 

You nodded, and couldn’t help the desperation in your voice. “Yes.” Somehow your legs dropped open even wider, exposing yourself to him further. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want me to do.” You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gave yourself entirely to him. “I’ll do it.”

Joel had turned his chest to face you, and he ran a hand over his face. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, ya know?” he said, and you thought it was a minor jab at your eagerness until he dropped his hand back to his lap and you saw that blissed-out smile that you were learning to ache for. “‘Course I’ll tell you what to do. If that’s what you want,” he answered, and you almost came at the sound of his voice. 

He shifted so his body was facing you; the sight of him with his shirt buttoned, his pants still on, but the zipper undone and his cock bobbing heavily as he moved…it was enough to have you rolling your eyes back. Joel Miller was sensational. The essence of sin and seduction, and you only wanted more.

“Lift this leg for me, baby,” he murmured as he lowered his chest to the couch. You let him move your ankle to rest on his shoulder, then the other ankle to match. “That’s it,” he cooed, “you’re such a quick learner, babydoll.”

You blushed at the nickname, and when he sank to his elbows with his eyes on your pussy, your eyes widened. “Joel—”

You’d heard of this type of pleasure, but you’d never thought it was something men actually did. When he looked up at you with that hungry look in his eye, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like one might do before eating an especially good meal, you realized another thing. 

You’d never thought this could be something that men actually enjoyed.

“You want instruction, babygirl?” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh and chuckling when you shivered. “I’ll give you instruction. Lay back and let me take care of you. You’re always so good at that, yeah?”

He didn’t give you the chance to answer before he was dipping his head down to your most sacred spot, where you needed him most. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them against his ears as if they were keeping him warm in the cold temperatures outside. With one stripe from your weeping entrance to your quivering bud, Joel nearly made you come on the spot.

“Joel, I’m gonna—” 

He pulled back and smiled wickedly. “Already, baby? We’ve only just started,” he drawled, turning his head to kiss the inside of your other thigh. “Hold on to it for me, yeah? Gotta practice holding it for me, okay?”

You were too far gone to even grace his question with a response. All you could manage was a stuttering moan as you threw your head back and bucked your hips into his face, chasing your release.

Joel held your hips down with a light chuckle. “Wait, princess,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to your clit before continuing, “you don’t wanna fail your lesson, do ya?”

The implication that something might happen—or decidedly not happen—if you were to come before he let you only spurred you on. “Joel, please—”

“Just a little longer, please, baby,” he said, his voice a gentle moan. His tongue grazed your clit once more and he closed his lips over your bud, suckling just lightly enough to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

It was then that you opened your eyes and looked at him; you wanted to see what he looked like with his mouth on your most sensitive spot if you were going to come. Your eyes caught on his hips, laid out on the couch further away from you. You blinked.

Joel was rutting into the couch. His hips were seemingly moving of their own accord, a smooth movement that was covered in sin and desperation. You thought about the fact that the curve of his hips would probably look like that if he were pressing his cock into you, and that was it. 

Your voice broke over the sound of your whines, and paired with his fingers coming up to press into your entrance, you were done for. You came hard over his fingers, your moans so loud that you thought someone would hear you all the way back in Jackson. “JoelJoelJoelJoel,” you cried, feeling the familiar rise of emotions in your throat. 

Joel pulled his head from your pussy and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” he smirked. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, although you weren’t sure you had the capacity to even be sorry just now; the sight of him getting off at the taste of you was enough to keep your mind busy for the next week. “I didn’t mean to—”

“S’okay, dollface,” he chuckled, “I forgive you. That pussy tastes too sweet to be mad about you comin’ all over my damn face.”

Your thighs lay open for another moment, and Joel absentmindedly put his hand over your clit to rub another gentle circle to your sensitive bud. He hummed when your hips bucked at the overstimulation before pulling his hand away. 

Your eyes dropped to his cock, sitting rock hard and definitely not spent. You reached out with your hand again, sitting up. The effects of your orgasm were still heavy on your mind, but in a wordless movement you sank to your knees before him. “You didn’t come,” you said, more of a question than a statement. 

He shook his head. “Don’t matter,” he said, patting a hand on your head. “That was just for you, doll.”

You frowned. “But—” you dipped your head down, aiming your mouth at his tip despite not knowing what to do beyond that. All you knew was that this was something he needed. The tip of his cock was leaking profusely now, and you wanted nothing more than to make him feel as good as he’d made you feel. 

“We haven’t practiced that one yet, pretty girl,” he said softly, and lifted your head from where it was aiming. “Trust me, doll, I want it just as bad as you want to give it to me.” He traced his thumb along the line of your nose, a habit that he’d been starting to pick up. “But we’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“Then I wanna practice,” you insisted, your knees digging into the cold wooden floor. You didn’t want to think about how you looked, your face showing the remnants of your orgasm and your entrance starting to drip once more at the thought of pleasing him. “Let me practice,” you repeated. 

He smiled ruefully. “Got nothin’ to practice on, sweet thing,” he said softly. “We’ll practice another day.”

You took his hand wordlessly, not sure where this bout of confidence was coming from. It was like you were drunk on the thought of making him come. He let you hold his hand in yours, and with one look up at him, holding his eyes in your gaze, you opened your mouth to slide three of his fingers onto your tongue. He tasted like salt and the sweet release of your own body. 

Joel jerked in your grip, his cock bobbing toward you and his hand nearly shoving itself all the way down your throat. “Holy fuck, doll,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering closed. “S’enough to make a man leave his wife.”

You chuckled, knowing he was spewing nonsense from his lips now, but you pressed his fingers further down your throat, only stopping when they brushed the back of your throat, causing you to gag. 

“That’s okay, babygirl,” he said with another affectionate pat on your head. “You’re doin’ so good. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Thought I was doing well,” you said sheepishly when he pulled his fingers from your mouth. A string of spit connected his fingers to your lips.

He nodded and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You are, dollface,” he said. “You are. Maybe it’s me who needs a second to regroup.”

You knew it wasn’t true; his angry red tip was more than enough of a conflicting response to his words. But you let him pick you up from the floor and cradle you in his arms over his lap, rubbing his hands in circles over your body. “You’ll let me make you feel good, though?” you asked softly. 

Joel smiled. “‘Course,” he reassured you with a kiss on the cheek. “Next time,” he promised. 

It was enough. You nodded and rested your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the gentle curtain of sleep cover you. “M’tired,” you whispered, every inhibition gone. This man had seen and touched every part of you; there was no point in being shy.

“I know, baby, I know,” he said, and when his face wasn’t in between your legs, it was an awfully domestic phrase. “Just lemme hold your for a second. Then we’ll go back home.”

—

You didn’t know how you’d managed to get back on the horse, your clit sensitive and your whines hoarse with the constant friction as you rode back to Jackson. Your head had leaned back against Joel’s chest and he rested his chin against the top of your head, a constant warm presence as you rose from your post-orgasm haze. 

A happy accident, a faraway voice mused in your head. One horse with Joel on patrol? A dream. 

That is, until Tommy came out of the stables as you two approached. 

“Why’d you leave her horse here?” he called out, and you felt Joel tense behind you. “You forget how to ride a damn horse, darlin’?” Tommy said to you with that same southern drawl that his older brother shared in his voice. 

You blushed as Joel helped you down from his mount, and you hid your uncontrollable laughter behind your hand when he shared some tense words with his brother. 

“Fuck off,” Joel finished, but by the look of his wide eyes and red cheeks, you knew it held no malice. He was embarrassed. He’d faked your horse’s injury so he could hold you close. The realization made your head whirl. 

You walked off from the stables when the horse was returned to his stall, and you giggled when you heard Joel hurry to catch up with you. 

He looked around for a moment, as if checking to see if anyone was nearby, and then he delivered a quick swat to your ass, making you nearly trip in the snow. “S’not nice to laugh at an old man,” he said with a straight face, all business. But you could see the uncharacteristic rosiness in his cheeks, betraying his continued humiliation. 

You weren’t sure where the confidence in your voice came from, but you sighed with a, “Yeah,” before nudging him with your elbow. “Can’t help it when it’s your own brother, Joel.”

He shook his head and your arm tingled when he reached out with his gloved hand to clasp onto yours. “What am I gonna do with you, dollface, huh?” he mumbled, and you weren’t quite sure if you were meant to hear it until he looked down at you with a gentle smirk and a raised brow. 

You shrugged, your own cheeks heating up at the implications of what you were about to say. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Make another lesson out of it, I suppose.”

Joel just stared at you, a smug expression on his face. He tore his eyes from yours and played the part of nonchalance when he responded smoothly, mirth twinkling in those brown eyes you’d grown so attached to. “Maybe I will.”

this is so sinful i'm so tipsy rn i hope you liked it!!!! tysm for reading i love u all <3

tags (i'm so sorry it wouldn't let me tag everyone!!! i'll do the rest of my tags in the morning!!!): @morning-star-joy @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @dinsdjrn @mingiast @darkroastjoel @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups @elegantduckturtle @evyiione @bitchwitch1981 @disassociation-daydreams @mrsquill @littlemisssluttyknee @papipascalispunk @mumma-moonchild @buckbarnesdollsposts @kamcrazy123 @djarins-wife @lovelyladiess @impossiblebluebirdchaos @salsdemise @daddy-din @chaotic-mystery @laughcryreadsmutrepeat @prose-before-hoes-blog @morgaussy @thepriceofdevotion @chateausophie @livyjh @kittenlittle24 @ever-siince-new-york @julietamidala @3xclusive-y0ni @paanchusblog @okdeedee @scarletsloveletter @paleidiot @cleopatra99 @samuncenxsored @yourfavoriteredheadbitch-blog @brie-annwyl @spxctorsslxt @pattwtf @meijasworldasf @easaud @yuk-for-president @withrice-ontoast @ssssc0m @nini123 @bookishofalder @projectionistwrites @leeeesahhh

[sinsofsummers]

your writing is so good, are you currently taking requests??🥺

hi nonnie!! i am taking requests!! but when i write them is like…when the inspiration strikes of course, and just fyi i’m probably going to write drabbles for requests rather than full-blown fics!!

so feel free to send in some requests :)

[sinsofsummers]

sensational part four please. i need it. why is it so good. you gotta keep going till they finally…ya know

oh TRUST....there's lots for joel to teach her. we haven't even gotten to the GOOD STUFF YET

stick around and you might just get a scene of them finally fuckin-

(@ sel bby if u see this im so glad i have this meme now)

[sinsofsummers]

good morning guysssss

so i just had kind of a slay hookup that lasted the weekend and i'm gonna go touch grass so i might be offline for a little bit today

HAHAHHAHAA

gotta become one w nature after that shit

[sinsofsummers]

insatiable

1.3k | marc spector x f!reader

summary: you can never get enough of marc. and marc? he's not complaining. warnings: literally nothing but smut (duh), oral (m receiving), fingering, marc being a little shit, whimpering, begging, masturbation (f), throat-fucking, etc.

Giving Marc head during the worst possible times of his day is your version of fun.

There's nothing quite like the look of unbridled desire that blooms in his eyes every time he sees you sink to your knees in front of him, a pleading smile on your lips..

"Please, baby, I'm busy," he'll always say, as if to protest. But you know he just says it for show; he'll never stop thanking his lucky stars for how desperately insatiable you can be.

Because when your throat feels empty, it feels hollow, and the only thing that can make you return to yourself is his thick, veiny cock stuffed down your throat until your nose brushes the coarse patch of hair at the base.

If he's about to fall asleep? No better bedtime story than the sound of you gagging on the swollen head of his cock touching the back of your throat, your hands splayed on his thighs for balance.

He's on the phone? You'll kneel before him like a zealot bends to pray, and you'll take him into your mouth without a word, hardly even a look into his eyes, while he stifles his moans.

He comes home from another hard day as Moon Knight? You're there for him, ready to pull him down to the bed and let him lose his worries with your mouth around him.

And now? He's just gotten out of the shower, towel draped sinfully low on his hips, his chest a canvas of scars and muscles and droplets of water that still run down the rivets of his stomach.

You've been trying to distract yourself with...well, anything, but that's been awfully hard considering your favorite man is in much need of a relaxing shower. You'd almost gone in with him, but had refrained when you saw the hard look in his eye.

You could be his treat after the shower. Besides, you'd convinced yourself, he needed those quiet moments to come back to himself from a long day.

Of course, the temptation had been so strong that you'd had to resort to sinking your hand into your shorts to keep yourself from interrupting his alone time.

"Look at you," he muses when he steps out of the bathroom, leaning down to drop a kiss on your head. "Keeping yourself busy, I see?"

Your eyes open at the sound of his voice, and you can feel the droplets of water from his hair land on your arm. It cools your hot skin, and your fingers stop circling your clit. "Couldn't help myself," you shrug with a smirk, "what else am I s'posed to do when I know you're just a few feet away, looking as good as you do?"

His smirk remains on his face, but you swear you can see it grow wider when he flits his eyes down to where your hand has disappeared under the soft material of your lounge shorts. "You want something, sweetheart?" he teases, and your face burns.

"Only you," you reply, your voice thick. Pulling your hand from your shorts, you hold out your shining fingers to his mouth, tapping them against his bottom lip before placing them over your tongue, gently sucking your sweet juices from your own fingertips.

"C'mere," you coo. "Wanna taste you, Marc."

It doesn't take much more than that to get him to drop his towel, laying back on the bed with his feet dangling off the edge, just enough to reach the floor. His cock is already half-mast, a delicious challenge for you to conquer. Before you put your mouth over his tip, he reaches out to tug at your waistband. "Lemme see that pretty pussy, baby," he says, his voice always a quiet command. "I wanna hear you play with yourself while you suck my cock."

You bite your lip with a grin and obey. You usually allow him these little requests; it makes him feel like he's in control for the few minutes before you've got him writhing and whimpering beneath you.

With one hand on your clit, rubbing rhythmic circles on your bundle of nerves, breathy moans dropping from your lips, you lift your eyes to his and open your mouth, taking him softly.

At first. You like to watch his lips quiver as he tries to hold in the desperate moans. No matter how many times you find yourself in this position, Marc's moans remain loud and plentiful, turning into an unforgettable chorus of whines when you inevitably take him down to the base of his cock.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, throwing his arm over his face. "You know just how to make me feel better, honey. That's it, fuck—"

His voice catches when you moan around him, the vibrations stiffening his cock in an instant. Your throat is deliciously full, and you hollow your cheeks for a moment, sucking hard and fast to watch him crumble to pieces.

Now you've got him where you want him.

"Do I make you feel good, Marc?" you ask sweetly when you lift your mouth from him for a moment's reprieve.

It's all he can do to nod, a whine squeezing its way from his throat. "Always so good, doll," he heaves, his hips straining up from the bed. "I wanna—please—"

You dip your tongue down and swirl it gently around his tip, lapping up the precum with an appreciative moan. "Ask nicely, baby," you tease him, your hand curling around his length and delivering a courteous, languid stroke.

His hips stutter. "More, please," he breathes. "Wanna fuck your throat. Please."

For a moment, you pause to look at him. He looks absolutely wrecked. You've never gotten him this desperate so quickly. "And you say I'm insatiable," you murmur. "Come on, Marc. Fuck my throat. Play with me how you want."

His hands come down to the back of your head with almost no warning but a, "thank fuck," and then your eyes are squeezing shut as he plants his feet to the ground, bucking his hips faster and harder into your mouth, watching your hair fall into your eyes.

"That's it, baby," he mutters, and you relish in the deep gravelly tone that his voice takes. "Want me to come down this pretty throat?"

You can't even reply; his hips don't stop until his groans grow louder, and longer, and his hands grip your hair in tight fists, nearly pulling it out from the roots. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well," he hums. "Gonna come, baby, gonna—"

He loses all coherence when he comes, and it's music to your ears as his hips stutter once more before falling back to the bed, his hands still pulling you to the base of his cock as he pulses, painting the walls of your throat with his release.

When he loosens his grip, you lift your head and swallow, swiping a finger under your lip to catch any drops that might have fallen. Nothing but a smug chuckle passes your lips.

"What?" he asks, his chest heaving and lined in a sheen of sweat.

Your hand returns to your core, having removed it when he was fucking your throat. "Nothing," you say, feigning innocence. "It's just..."

His lips curl up. "Lemme take care of you, baby," he says with a hand reaching for you. Despite his fatigue, his arms are strong as he pulls you up on the bed. "Wanna return the favor," he murmurs, and his hands find your hips, pulling you to straddle his chest.

"Yeah?" you tease, and you can't help but wonder how fucked out the both of you look. No doubt your hair is knotted beyond belief, and with the way he's tugging you closer to his face, making your sopping core hover over his mouth, you're sure it'll be quite a bit longer before the two of you can clean up.

He nods feverishly with a devil's smirk and looks down at your clit, just inches from his nose. "How else would I say thank you?"