#joel miller fanfiction
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falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part ii)
summary: Joel Miller never expected much out of Jackson—just a quiet place to live out the days he had left. But when a baby’s cries lead him to a mother unravelling under the pressure of nursing her child she never asked for, he finds himself tangled in something he can’t walk away from—no matter how much he tells himself he should.
a/n: on today's episode of 'angry idiots and sad assholes', introducing the one and only Joel Miller! I let out a few tears writing this one, too, it's really painful when you think about how Joel probably perceives himself, or how I think he does. onto other happier news, I simply cannot believe the kind of response the first part garnered, and I'm shook! rise up, depression girlies!!! To everyone who responded in the comments and reblogs, I've read them all twice over and giggled and twirled my hair and threw up butterflies. Thank you, and I hope you like this one! :)
Joel settled into his routine like a man settling into an old wound. Patrols, clearing trails, the stables, the repair shop, the bar, dinner in silence, rinse and repeat. It was easier that way—easier than thinking too much about a vain attempt. He ignored his neighbour’s existence completely. At least, that’s what he told himself.
But ignoring something didn’t make it disappear.
Every morning, he still ended up at the dining table—the one he never used—sipping his coffee too slow for his patience, gaze drawn to the big white house across the street like a goddamn magnet. Watching for movement. Watching for them.
And he fucking hated it.
Hated the part of him that waited, that noticed, that took account of the smallest details like they meant anything to him. Like he still had a reason to care.
Sometimes, Maya fussed too much, and Leela would come outside, her hair a little unkempt, gait all botched, but her hands steady as she cradled her baby against her chest. He saw her murmuring softly to the baby girl, pointing to the sky, the trees, the shifting clouds, the falling snow. A little trick from Maria, he figured. It worked well enough. Maya would quiet, those big brown eyes so curious, distracted by the vastness of the world she barely understood.
And Leela—she still looked tired. Still looked like she was moving through a fog, unseeing, carrying more than just the baby in her arms. But she took to Maya differently now, touched her calmly, like she was no longer afraid she might break her.
That was good. That meant she was doing fine. That meant she didn’t need him. And that meant Joel could stop worrying about the things that weren’t his to worry about.
Joel was outside, tightening the hinges on his porch gate, bracing against the cold, when he heard her steps crunching in the snow. Still quiet. Still waiting. He didn’t look up right away, just kept his focus on the task in front of him. If she needed something, she’d say it.
"Good morning, Joel," Leela greeted warmly.
Joel gave a short nod, adjusting the grip on his screwdriver. "Mornin’."
She lingered there. Honestly, he just wished she’d just go back inside. So, he kept working, unbothered, and didn't look up.
"Loose hinges?" she asked.
Courtesies. He wasn't falling for it. "Mhm."
He knew when he wasn't wanted. She was finding her feet now, somewhat starting to take care of herself, carefully taking care of Maya. She didn’t need him checking in, didn’t need him hovering. And maybe—maybe that should’ve felt like a relief. It didn’t.
"You need anything else?" he asked, voice gruffer than he meant it to be.
"No, I just..." Leela wavered, softly, like she already knew he was about to shut her down. "I wanted to say thank you. For helping me out these few weeks. I couldn't have done it without you."
Joel finally glanced up at that. Just a flicker.
Leela shifted in her puffy pants, adjusting Maya against her shoulder. The baby girl was bundled up tight, small fists curled into her mouth, watching him with that blank, childlike wonder in big eyes. It took every bit of strength he had to not fall for that, and just forget everything that happened.
Joel hung his head, nodding again, keeping his focus downward on the screw.
She was being friendly. Trying to meet him halfway. And he hated that this was what it had come to—that she felt like she had to say something, to extend some kind of olive branch, when all he’d done was build a wall between them. For no fucking reason.
He straightened up with a muffled grunt, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Nothin’ to thank me for. It was all you."
She half-laughed, something wry and knowing. "I know that's not true."
Joel glanced up, stiffening, but she wasn’t looking at him, just rubbing slow circles into Maya’s back, pressing a slow kiss to the top of her head, consoling herself.
He knew what she was doing. He wasn’t stupid.
She was trying to make things normal again. Like they hadn’t spent nights under the same roof. Like he hadn’t seen her fall apart. Like she wasn’t still here, right now, offering him something—a small, careful thing—and he was too much of a coward to take it.
So he didn’t.
Joel scratched the back of his neck with the screwdriver, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. "You oughta get inside," he said instead. "It’s too cold for the kid."
Leela’s expression flickered. Not hurt. Just resigned. He felt like he'd ripped the bandaid off a baby.
"Okay. Yes." She slowly nodded but hesitated a step back. Then—too quietly, almost like an afterthought—"It’s nice to see you around, Joel."
And with that, she started back down the road, holding Maya closer by her head, and Joel let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. That was better. Cleaner.
He grabbed his tools and turned back to his door, locking his jaw. He hadn’t meant to come off short, but it was better this way. Best to stay in his own lane. Best not to make something out of nothing. That’s what he told himself.
But later that night, when he was eating that damn delicious soup she’d left for him by his door—still warm, still considerate—he felt like a grade-A asshole.
From then on, it was Tommy who had taken over fixing the nursery, finishing what Joel had started. He figured that was for the best. It kept things clean. Tied up loose ends. He had no business stepping into that house anymore, no reason to.
And yet, his eyes always caught the details—the way the curtains in the nursery window shifted, the way light flickered between the slats, the way the wood he had sanded and painted was still unfinished, the way Tommy started bringing someone else along.
Mal.
Joel had seen him before, a younger guy with an afro that Tommy had taken under his wing. Handy with repairs, and good with his hands. Nothing special.
At first, Mal actually worked. Brought his toolbox, put up a few shelves, and nodded along to whatever Tommy said. Kept to himself. But then—things started changing. Mal started staying longer. Talking... to her. Right on the front stoop until the sun went down.
It was fine at first. Two steps between them. Then one. Then none at all. Soon, he was leaning close on the porch railing, shoulders nearly brushing hers, speaking in low, easy tones that Joel couldn’t quite make out from across the street. And then—laughter. Leela’s laughter. Soft, hesitant, but real.
More than Joel had ever gotten out of her. Not that he’d ever tried.
Tommy and Maria stopped coming around entirely. It was just Mal now. Every goddamn day. He’d stroll up, toolbox in hand, tap on the door, and then—nothing. No sounds of work being done. No hammering, no shifting furniture. Just conversation.
Joel told himself it didn’t matter. Repeated it like a prayer, like a lesson he should’ve learned by now. That whatever Leela did, whoever she let into her home, was none of his business. That was the whole point of leaving, wasn’t it? Cutting ties, walking away.
He didn’t care about the way Mal lingered on that porch, didn’t care about the way Leela had started looking at him—not quite wary, not quite inviting. Like she was still learning how to trust people but was willing to try. Didn’t care about the way Maya reached for Mal, the tiny fingers curling into his beard, the easy way Mal let her.
And yet, he always saw it.
The way Mal leaned just a little closer, the way Leela’s shoulders, once so tight and drawn, started to loosen. The way her fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleeves when she spoke to him, soft and hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to enjoy the conversation.
Joel hated how much he noticed. It was worse when he overheard them.
He'd been out all damn day. Sun up to sundown, rifle slung over his shoulder, dealing with raiders, clickers, and everything in between. The kind of day that made his bones ache, that made his back scream when he so much as breathed wrong. The kind of day where all he wanted was to go home, put his feet up, and maybe—just maybe—close his eyes for longer than ten damn minutes.
But no. Because just as he was rounding the corner to his place, the world ready to lay even more shit on him, he heard them.
"You mean to tell me no one's ever spun you around before?" Mal was saying.
Joel's step faltered. He should’ve kept walking. Should’ve ignored it. But of course, he didn’t. Joel adjusted his grip on the sack slung over his shoulder, slowing his pace, letting their voices drift through the cold evening air.
Leela snorted, light and dismissive. "Like dancing?"
"Exactly like," Mal confirmed, smooth as you please. "Having a little fun, letting go, feeling the music. Bet you don’t do much of that."
Joel’s fingers curled around the strap of his bag, grip tightening.
"There's more pressing matters than romance," Leela muttered, but she was laughing.
Joel didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t like the way she said it. Playful. Entertained. That was the first thing that rubbed Joel the wrong way. The second was the way the kid kept talking.
"Well, I bet Maya’s never even seen her mama all dolled up before, huh? Imagine that, baby girl," Mal cooed, and Maya's sweet crool followed like a melody.
Fuck this.
Joel didn’t hear Leela’s response, didn’t hear whatever she said next, because he was already moving—boots heavy, hands fisted, the strap of his bag biting into his palm.
The frozen dirt beneath his boots crunched as he made his way there, shoulders squared, hackles raised, barely restraining the urge to grab that kid by the collar and shake some goddamn sense into him.
Because who the hell did this punk think he was?
Talking like that, acting like Leela was some blushing girl to be sweet-talked. Like she hadn’t spent the last few weeks barely holding herself together. Like she hadn’t bled for that kid in her arms. Like Joel hadn’t been the one who—
He stopped himself there. Tamped it down. Shoved it deep into the pit of his stomach where all the other shit lived.
Instead, he turned away, kept his head down and walked straight home, fists tight around anything. By the time he kicked the door shut behind him, his jaw ached from how hard he’d been clenching it. Fucking Mal.
Joel dumped the sack of supplies on the table and went straight for the bottle. Pulled the cork out with his teeth, and poured himself a glass with a hand that was damn near steady.
He took a sip. Let it burn. Let it settle. Then he muttered, "Goddamn kid."
He wasn’t mad. Not really. Because why should he be?
She liked him. Sure, he wanted her to be happy. If that happened, he'd finally get a good night's sleep. And yet, it wouldn't mean a fucking thing to him if Mal was the reason. One day when he's going to see her and Mal inside her home, silver rings glinting off their hands, little Maya nestled between them, the picture of a perfect family...
Joel knocked back the rest of the whiskey and swallowed hard. Good. That was good. Good for her. She didn't need him. Maya wouldn't need him. He'd butt out and live alone, in peace.
He set the glass down a little harder than he meant to. Stared at it. Then, just to be sure, he muttered it out loud.
"Ain't my problem."
But the facts remained.
She still wasn’t eating much or sleeping well. The dark circles under her eyes hadn’t faded. She still rubbed at her temples when she thought no one was looking, still blinked a little too long, like she was fighting off exhaustion every second of the day. Food was out of compulsion, not hunger, for the sake of staying healthy for Maya.
And then, one night, he saw her asleep on the porch swing. Curled in on herself, arms tucked tight, shivering slightly against the cold, exhaustion dragging her under where she sat.
It took everything in him not to walk over and wake her. To shake her by the shoulder, drag her inside, make sure she was warm. It took everything in him not to care.
Because this wasn’t his anymore. He had no claim over them.
Didn’t change the fact that every time he saw Mal leaning against that railing, looking like he belonged there like he’d always belonged there—that knot in his chest twisted tighter.
And he hated that, too.
X
Joel had truly been looking forward to dinner. It was the same thing every week. He’d go over to Tommy's, have a decent meal, shoot the shit with his brother, and let Ellie fill in the gaps of conversation. It was comfortable. Familiar. Nice. A welcome change from the silence of his own home, from days spent running the same damn circuit—patrol, repairs, the bar, then back to a house that wasn’t a home, not really.
But tonight, something was off. Joel could feel it from the moment he sat down.
Maybe it was the way Maria and Ellie kept glancing at him like they were waiting for something. Or maybe it was just Tommy—sitting across from him, chewing through a mouthful of steak, his expression too nonchalant like he had something up his sleeve.
Joel didn’t think much of it at first. He focused on his food, carving through the meat, grounding himself in the scrape of his fork against the plate.
Then Tommy opened his big hole of a mouth.
"Mal’s been spending a lot of time over at Leela’s place."
Joel’s hand tensed around his knife. And just like that, his appetite was gone. He kept his face neutral and didn’t look up. Just kept chewing, lagging and deliberate motions, like he hadn’t heard a damn thing.
Tommy, either oblivious or just plain cruel, kept going. "Helpin’ out with the nursery. Putting some time in with the baby girl." He ripped a piece of bread in half, completely unaware of the way Joel’s grip had turned his fork into a weapon. "Good guy. He and Leela get along well. It's nice to see."
Joel exhaled slowly through his nose. Focused on his plate. Flattened a piece of potato with the back of his fork. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t his problem. That was the whole goddamn point, wasn’t it?
He’d helped Leela out. Gave her time. Took care of her baby. That was it. She was somebody else’s problem now. And yet, the idea of some guy stepping into his place, rocking Maya to sleep, working on the nursery, fixing things, being there—his mouth flattened into a hard line. It stung.
No. It wasn’t his place to care. He'd told himself so many times, it felt like one of those daily affirmations bullshit. Thou shall not think of thy neighbour's handyman and his fuckeries.
Though, still, before he could stop himself, the words were already out of his mouth. "Nursery ain’t even done yet."
The second it left him, he regretted it. A beat of silence.
Then, slowly, too slowly, Joel looked up—and immediately hated what he saw. Maria and Ellie were smirking. That stupid, all-too-knowing, ready-to-annoy-the-shit-out-of-him-smirk. He had the greatest urge to leave the room.
Maria lifted an eyebrow. "And how exactly would you know that, Joel?"
Joel pursed his lips casually, setting his fork down with a little too much care. "They live right across the damn street. Hard to miss."
Ellie leaned forward, propping her chin on her fist. "Right. And how much time do you spend looking across the damn street?"
He massaged the bridge of his nose. "Don’t start, Ellie."
Tommy tilted his head, giving him a look that made Joel want to knock his damn teeth out. "You’ve been actin’ real funny ever since you left that house, y’know."
"Ain’t nothin’ to act on," Joel muttered, shifting in his seat. "I helped her out. End of story. Moving on."
Tommy wasn't letting go, damn him. "Uh-huh. Then why you sittin’ here lookin’ like you just bit into a bad lemon the second her name came up?"
Joel’s jaw ticked.
"Yeah," Ellie added, grinning. "Why’s your face doing that thing?"
Joel frowned. "What thing?"
She pointed with her fork to the furrows above his eyebrows. "The thing where you pretend you don’t care, but your forehead says otherwise."
Maria hid a knowing smile behind her glass while Joel rubbed at his face consciously, glaring over at Ellie. "You could just go over there, you know."
Joel let out a short, humourless chuckle. "Oh, c'mon. For what?"
"Dinner," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Just a meal with friends. Tommy, me, you, Ellie—Leela and Maya. Nothing big."
Joel stared down at his plate. His food had gone cold.
"We don’t need to be doin’ all that," he muttered, shaking his head. Getting familiar and cosy. It'd only invite more trouble.
Maria ignored him. "She’s got that nice, big dining room. French windows. Good view of the lawn. It’d be like a little party."
Joel didn’t respond.
"Come on, man," Tommy pressed. "What’s stopping you?"
That was the question, wasn’t it? Joel wasn’t sure he had an answer. Or maybe he did—and just didn’t want to say it.
Because the truth was, he had no business going back. He’d done what he came to do. He’d helped. That was it.
But then there was Maya—her featherlight body in his arms, the way she’d reached for his shirt in her sleep. There was Leela—standing in the doorway that last morning, silent, watching him go. There was the stillness in his own house, the way he’d catch himself in the middle of the night, listening for a cry that never came. What the hell was wrong with him?
Instead, he just stabbed his fork into his potato and muttered, "Pass."
Maria and Ellie exchanged another conspiratorial glance. And Joel had the distinct feeling this wasn’t over.
Once dinner had progressed into a chore, Ellie and Joel, ever the gentleman, helped Tommy dry the dishes. Well—Joel did. Ellie, on the other hand, was just sitting on the counter, swinging her legs and cracking jokes about Tommy’s new manbun. The kitchen was warm, the soft clatter of dishes filling the space and laughter, the steak dinner still settling in Joel’s stomach.
“You’re really doing the whole ponytail thing now, huh?”
Tommy rolled his eyes, flicking on the tap. “Jesus, you sound like Joel.”
“Hey, you take that back! I am way cooler than Joel,” Ellie corrected. “And I'm a thousand times funnier. Pun-nier.”
“Debatable,” Joel muttered.
“Did Maria do this to you?” she asked, flicking a sudsy fork in Joel’s direction. “Blink twice if you need help. I've got emergency scissors.”
Tommy snorted, stacking the last plate in the cabinet. “It’s practical. And I'm starting to like it.”
Ellie tilted her head, unimpressed. “It's lazy. Tragic.”
Joel smirked but said nothing, wiping down a plate before handing it over. Tommy shot him a glare like he was expecting some backup, but Joel just shrugged. Not his fight.
Maria walked in from behind them, and Joel noticed that infuriating look on her face. Oh, nothing good would come out of this. She set a small box on the counter with a dull thud, right beside Joel. He barely glanced at it before she plopped another paper box on top—leftovers from tonight. Steak and potatoes just for a special someone.
“Could you pass this on to Leela on your way back?” she said casually, drying her hands. “It's one dose a day, each.”
Joel looked down, his hands bracing against the counter. Vitamins. Of course.
Maria tapped the food box. “And dinner.”
Joel eyed them both, then her. The way she said it, like it was no big deal. Like she hadn’t just put him in a position he couldn’t easily wiggle out of.
He sighed, already seeing where this was going. He set down the dish towel, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tommy can pass it to her tomorrow.”
Maria simply raised an eyebrow. “Meat’s gonna go bad.”
Joel narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so this is how you’re gonna play it?” He glanced at Tommy, then Ellie, both of whom were very pointedly looking elsewhere. “Really?”
Ellie grinned. “It’s a neighbourly thing to do, Joel. Don't you call yourself a gentleman?”
“I’m with her on that one,” Tommy added, crossing his arms.
Joel let out a slow, irritated breath. Family? No, just a bunch of annoying, traitorous little shits.
Maria only smiled, sliding the box closer to him. “Wouldn’t want her going without. She's already skin and bones. And you know... you live right across the damn street.”
Ellie burst out laughing, raising her fist to Maria, who bumped with her own knowing smile. “Respect.”
Joel clenched his jaw. She'd got him right where she wanted. Because now, if he didn’t take the stupid thing, he’d look like an asshole. And Maria knew that. She was being fucking shameless about it.
His gaze flickered down to the box. Then, before he could stop himself and leave them standing, an image surfaced—Leela, sitting on that damn porch swing, curled up against the cold. Maya’s tiny fingers tugging at her collar, red-cheeked, catching swirling snow in her dark curls.
Joel closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't shake it off. And he admitted it to himself, despite all his grievances against this, he missed them. He missed Leela's soft footsteps in the nursery past midnight, he missed Maya entirely. He missed the sense of normalcy once the blood and gore of patrol ended, to head to a warm home and lay down, exhausted, knowing he hadn't had a drink to fall asleep.
Then, wordlessly, he grabbed the boxes off the counter.
Ellie elbowed Tommy in the ribs, giggling. “See? Look at him. Good ol’ Joel, real man of the people.”
Joel shot her a warning look while heading over to grab his jacket, the delivery under his arm. “Don’t push it, kid.” Then pointed a threatening finger at Tommy as he yanked the front door open. “Can't believe we're related.”
Tommy only puckered his lips at him, miming a kiss. “Mensch Miller.”
X
The house across the street was unlocked again.
Joel stood at the threshold, jaw clenched, boots planted firm against the porch floorboards. The door was cracked open, swaying slightly from the evening breeze, the light from inside spilling out onto the steps. Did she even care about safety? It should’ve been locked. It should’ve been bolted shut, curtains drawn, an armoury stacked by the doorway. But Leela still acted like the world wasn’t what it was. Like Jackson was different.
It had been a whole two months since Leela brought Maya into this world, a month of struggling, of barely eating, barely sleeping, barely breathing. And now she had the nerve to leave her door wide open like she was inviting trouble? Like Jackson was some safe little haven where nothing bad could ever happen? A dangerous thing, that kind of trust. He’d seen what happened to people who had it.
His jaw ticked. He took the porch steps two at a time and pushed the door open without knocking.
Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of woodsmoke and something faintly sweet—baby powder, maybe, or that lavender soap Maria kept handing out. The fire crackled low in the hearth, throwing restless shadows across the room, licking at the edges of the high-backed armchair and the mathematics-riddled books and papers neatly stacked up in scatters.
And there she was, standing in front of it. Leela was running a brush through her hair, violently. Dragging it down, tangling it further, hissing under her breath when it snagged. Frustrated, impatient. Needed a haircut.
The same damn nightgown again. White, sleeveless, falling in soft folds just past her knees. But this time, his eyes caught the details—the way a single pearl button at her collar had been left open carelessly, the way the thin cotton made the dark silhouette of her body visible beneath, and the odd little cherries sewn sparsely into the fabric. Small, stitched by hand.
He had no idea why all that stood out to him. It just did. And boy, did it leave nothing to the imagination.
Leela stilled, catching sight of him in the doorway. The brush hung mid-stroke in her hand.
“Oh,” she said, like he hadn’t just barged into her house uninvited. “Hello.”
Her eyes and voice were warm. Soft, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she wasn’t standing there in nothing but a slip of a dress while the light of the fire turned her edge golden.
Joel forced his gaze away. His eyes flicked over the living room instead, to the couch against the far wall—his couch, as much as he hated to admit it. The blankets were still there, folded neatly, stacked with the pillows like she’d been expecting him to come back. His grip tightened around the boxes in his hands.
“I—” He cleared his throat, stepping forward, extending the boxes toward her. “Maria sent you some stuff.”
Leela blinked again before setting the hairbrush down, padding toward him on bare feet. She took the boxes gently, fingers barely brushing his. “Thank you, Joel,” she murmured, flashing a little smile.
“Just vitamins,” he played off.
She pried the lid off the larger box and inhaled deeply. He caught the way her nose twitched, her fingers tightening just a fraction around the edges.
“Her famous steak dinner,” he offered her.
And then, like clockwork, her stomach betrayed her, the low grumble cutting through the quiet between them. She stiffened, laughing, breathless and sheepish.
“Sorry.”
“You should eat—”
A sharp cry cut through the air, calling for her. Both their heads swung toward the staircase.
Leela sighed first, setting the boxes away. “Napkin,” she murmured, as if reciting from a schedule. “Please help yourself to anything. I’ll be right back.”
But Joel stepped forward, one arm extended, the box acting as a barrier between her and the stairs. He despised the unfamiliarity.
"Eat," he said, firm.
She hesitated. Her gaze flickered between him and the staircase, like she was weighing her options, debating whether to argue or just go along with it.
Another cry echoed from upstairs—short, needy. Joel could tell. It wasn’t hunger, wasn’t pain. Little Maya was lonely already.
“I got this,” he assured.
Leela chewed her lip. “But—”
“I know the drill.” He jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “Just eat.”
A long moment passed, heavy with hesitation. Then, finally, she relented, her shoulders sagging as she breathed in surrender. She took the box from him.
“I’ll grab a fork, I guess,” she muttered, turning toward the kitchen.
Joel smothered a grin while watching her go, and took the stairs two at a time, powerless to his anticipation. Two weeks since he held the baby girl. He'd missed the shit out of her, not that he would admit that to anybody. Of course, he wasn't about to pass up this chance for anything.
From the landing, the nursery's door cracked open, light from the hallway bleeding into the dim room. Joel frowned as he leaned in to inspect.
The first thing he noticed was that the crib had moved. His boots made no sound over the wooden floor as he stepped inside, scanning the space. The wooden shelves were up, already home to Maya's folded clothes, towels and napkins. The light installation dangled halfway, unfixed. No one had even begun work on painting the walls. No armchair. No rug.
This Mal guy was a complete jackass. Maya's nursery was a mess.
"Good with his hands, my ass," Joel muttered. "What a fuckin' tool."
Joel angrily followed the hallway light, stepping through the open doorway into the furthest bedroom, a room bigger than any he’d ever seen in Jackson.
Massive was an understatement. This was the kind of bedroom you’d see in a damn commercial—the kind of thing he would’ve scoffed at, once upon a time. The bed alone was ridiculous. Olympic-sized, sunken into a floor for itself, with plush, overstuffed pillows and thick sheets, barely disturbed. A sliding-door closet stood at the far end, pristine, untouched. A plasma-screen TV mounted to the opposite wall, thick with dust.
Joel’s lips pressed into a thin line. There was something unnatural about it. The way it felt more like a untouched display than her bedroom.
Maya’s cries pulled him from his thoughts. Joel crossed the room, approaching the crib—the one he’d worked on. All pink and polished for the spoiled little girl.
The moment she saw him, her cries hitched. Big, teary brown eyes blinked up at him, wide and glistening, like she was struggling to focus. She sniffled, tiny fists flexing against the mattress, mouth wobbling around her jutting tongue, as if trying to place him.
Joel couldn't resist a grin, brushing a coarse knuckle at her soft cheek.
“Hi, baby girl.” Then leaned closer to whisper, “Traitor.”
Maya sniffled, blinking again, then reached for him—small fingers curling, grasping blindly before finding his much larger one, tugging it toward her mouth. She gummed at his gnarled knuckles with a fussy little noise, her brows furrowing in concentration.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “That ain't fair. That's your apology?”
Maya made another small whimper of a sound. And a real smile. A big, toothless, gummy grin, full of warmth and recognition. Something nearly uncoiled at his ribs.
He pulled a so-so face. “Hm, I'll bite.”
It was muscle memory, really. The way his hands moved—effortless, practised. He'd done it more than fifty times in two weeks. He made quick work of the napkin, wiping her clean, then slid his hands beneath her arms, lifting her up in one smooth motion.
He grunted as he did, “C'mere, sweetheart. You beautiful, beautiful girl. Did you miss me, huh?”
She squealed, legs kicking excitedly as he cradled her against his chest, supporting her head the way he always did. And just like that, he eased into the old rhythm without thinking. That familiar weight against him, that warmth—gentle, swaying, murmuring under his breath. It was easy. Too easy. Like breathing. Like falling asleep.
She nestled into his shoulder, tiny fist pressing against his neck, seeking his warmth. She’d gotten bigger. Not by much, but enough. Still delicate, still small—but stronger now. More aware. Smart, like her mother.
"Yeah, you missed me," he murmured when she nuzzled against his neck.
And then—pure, infallible instinct—he dipped his nose into her hair and breathed her in deep. Soft linen and old cotton, warm and faint.
Sarah used to smell like this once. For just a little while. That same invisible claw tore at his memories. Joel closed his eyes, just for a second. He remembered how, when she outgrew it, he'd missed it terribly. How he’d sometimes let her sleep curled up in his arms all night long, his back against the headboard, just to hold onto that smell. Just to keep that small, fleeting moment of innocence before the world could take it away.
That nostalgia settled deep in his ribs, quiet and whole. This seemed like the only place in the world where suffering didn’t exist. Like his hands weren’t stained with all the things he’d done, all the lives he’d taken.
Because here, right now, with Maya, he wasn’t the man who had lost and lost and lost again. He wasn’t the man who’d left behind nothing but bodies and broken promises. No, she didn’t know any of that. She didn’t care.
She only knew his warmth. She knew the steady beat of his heart, the scratch of his beard against her soft skin, and the way he said her name. She only knew him as someone safe. And fuck, he wasn’t, he wasn’t, but—
God help him, he wanted to be.
Maya sighed, a tiny, content sound, pressing closer. And Joel—he let himself believe, just for a moment, that he was clean.
A soft gasp behind him made him turn to reality and toward the door. “Oh, Maya.”
Joel turned to find Leela standing in the doorway, hand to her mouth, eyes wide in amusement. She had changed—finally—into one of those oversized sweaters he’d seen her wear on colder nights, sleeves swallowing her hands. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at his chest.
Joel frowned. “What?”
Leela bit her lip, trying—failing—to smother a smile. She motioned vaguely toward him. Joel tracked her finger and glanced to the side. And felt it. Hot, damp.
Damned baby spit-up.
Maya’s little betrayal soaked through the fabric of his shirt, spreading down from his collar and shoulder to his chest in an uneven, milky stain. She smacked her lips contentedly against his collarbone, completely unaware of the mess she’d just made.
He sighed, shifting her to the other arm. He levelled her with a playful glare. “You gonna warn me next time you ruin my shirt, darlin'?”
Maya only gurgled in response, a soft, pleased little sound.
And then, following her daughter—Leela laughed.
Not the quiet, polite kind that he'd managed out of her once. Not the forced kind, either. A real laugh. Breathless, unexpected, warm. Like it had slipped out before she could stop it.
Joel felt it like a slow-moving punch to the gut. He didn’t hear that sound often. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard it before on his account. He'd finally done it.
It changed something about her, softening her face in a way that caught him off guard. Her eyes creased at the corners, the tightness in her shoulders eased, the exhaustion in her expression smoothed over—just for a moment.
It did something strange to him. Something he didn’t have the time to name. So he just exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath as he adjusted Maya over to the other arm, rubbing a hand over his damp shirt.
“Yeah, real funny. Your girl just aired her paunch all over me,” he grumbled.
Leela tried to sober up, apologizing, but another chuckle slipped out in between, and Joel caught the way she bit her lip, fighting to suppress it.
She was enjoying this. And he was in big fucking trouble.
"Don't move. I'll get you a spare shirt," she said, laughing, before walking to the adjacent closet doors.
Joel didn’t even get the chance to protest before Leela slid one side of the closet doors open, revealing—sweet Jesus.
His eyes landed on the neat rows of men’s clothing hanging inside. Not just a few misplaced items, not something left behind by chance. An entire collection.
Button-downs, slacks, henleys—clothes meant for daily wear. Added into the mix, were pressed suits, the kind that cost more than a month’s worth of supplies, the kind men used to wear to skyscrapers and boardrooms, back when the world was still upright. And golf shirts. For fuck’s sake, golf shirts.
Joel’s jaw hinged back up. Golf was a rich man’s game. He’d worked jobs near country clubs in his past life, and seen the kind of people who played. Men with money. Her father, perhaps.
Leela had definitely grown up rich. And looking at this—this untouched wealth, just sitting here, long past its time—it became clear. She probably still was.
Joel’s grip on Maya shifted slightly, the warmth of the baby pressing into his chest the only real thing anchoring him as his eyes dragged over the closet once more.
For all that Leela lived like a ghost, for all that she barely let anyone near her, this place still held echoes of what she came from. A past life that didn’t match the woman he’d seen standing at her front door, exhausted and hollow-eyed, desperate for her baby to stop crying.
Leela flipped through the hangers without hesitation, fingers brushing past labels he recognized—Armani, Burberry, Hollister. Eventually, she pulled out a green pullover. Soft, fine material. A little small for him, but it’d do.
She turned, offering it wordlessly.
Joel didn’t move to take it right away.
He was still staring at the closet. Not because he gave a damn about how much a fucking sweater cost, or whether she had a trust fund hidden away somewhere, but because it told him something. Something he hadn’t really thought about before.
Leela had come from comfort. Stability. A world where things were taken care of. And yet she’d buried herself in this big, empty house, alone, fighting tooth and nail to survive—like everyone else. And she never asked for help.
Leela cleared her throat. "It should fit. My father was a tall man."
Joel managed a sigh, shifting Maya in his arms. He took the pullover with one hand, already halfway through plucking open the buttons of his flannel.
While he worked, Leela stepped closer, ready to take Maya. She was quick about it, but Joel caught the way her fingers lingered, just for a second, as she scooped the baby up from his arms. Not on Maya.
On him.
Joel really tried to push it out of his head, write it off as an illusion, already plucking open the buttons of his shirt. His fingers brushed the fabric, and he paused when he caught the tag inside. Ralph Lauren, for fuck's sake.
Leela noticed with a small smile. "I didn’t take you for a man with fancy taste," she mused.
Joel let out a dry snort. "Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it."
He pulled off his flannel, the sleeves catching briefly on his wrists before he tossed it aside. The room wasn’t cold, but the air bit at his skin anyway. The scars felt it first—every healed cut, every old wound stretched over knotted muscle, each one a reminder of what his body had been through.
"Oh, man," he couldn't help but grunt, stretching his arms.
He worked the pullover over his head in one smooth motion, the fabric soft, snug across his shoulders. Felt like something he would’ve bought for Sarah back in the day, something she’d pull from a Macy’s rack, nodding in approval before insisting, "Dad, just try it on."
It fit better than he expected, but Joel barely registered that. His body had begun to ache. Not in one place—everywhere. It was late at night, it was cold, he missed his daily dose of whiskey, and he needed sleep for tomorrow.
The exhaustion sat in his bones now, permanent and familiar. His bad knee throbbed, aggravated from the cold, from the weight he put on it patrolling for hours at a time. His back had never been the same after that one fall, a long time ago. Some mornings, he woke up and could barely stand straight, feeling every single one of his years sink into him.
And yet, his body still held. Still worked. It wasn’t much to look at anymore. Not that it ever had been.
He had no delusions about himself—he wasn’t built for admiration. Never had been. Picking up girls and fooling around; was Tommy's thing. He wasn’t the kind of man people looked at twice, not in the way that mattered. His body told a story, but not the sort anyone wanted to read or had a happy ending,
His hands were ruined things, thick with callouses from years of exertion, from gripping rifle stocks, from skinning game, from chopping wood in the dead of winter. His knuckles were perpetually split, healing just enough before the next fight, the next job, the next reason to curl his fists. Scars mapped his skin, uneven and jagged, old bullet wounds and knife cuts, hard edges, marks of a life spent fighting for something—for anything.
He wasn’t young anymore. He wasn’t some smooth-talking son of a bitch with a face that turned heads. He was always angry at something, thinking about something, readying his next step, even if it was a complete waste of his time.
But he was still formidable. He could protect. He could endure the rough-hewn demands of survival, even now. He could fight like hell. That had to count for something.
But Leela—she wasn’t staring, exactly. Wasn’t not staring, either. It was subtle. Barely there. A flicker of something implicit, something fleeting, the way her gaze traced along his arms, his shoulders, abdomen, the sharp cut of his collarbone before snapping away. As if she hadn’t meant to look, and she’d caught herself a second too late.
Joel had been around long enough to recognize when a woman was checking him out. And hell—he wasn’t gonna lie to himself. It made him feel good. Fucking fantastic, really. Like he could wake up tomorrow feeling twenty years younger. Like he could leap right out of bed and his back wouldn’t stiffen before noon. Like he still had something left in him worth looking at.
He wasn’t an idiot, though. He wasn't going to let it go to his head.
Leela adjusted Maya in her arms, moving her weight as if giving herself something to do, something to focus on that wasn’t him.
And Joel—he pretended not to notice. Didn’t say a damn word about it. Didn’t shift under her gaze, didn’t smirk at her, didn’t let her see that she’d gotten under his skin in a way he hadn’t expected.
Just muttered a quiet, "Thanks," and left it at that.
Leela hummed in response, turning away to lay Maya down, who was already dozing her little head off, into the crib with practised care. Then, just as easily, she pivoted back to her bedside dresser, fingers moving over a stack of neatly folded quadrille paper.
"Can you pass something to Tommy for me?" she asked, voice soft, controlled. "It’s really important he gets this as soon as possible."
Joel might not have paid it much mind, might’ve brushed it off as just another errand he wasn’t keen on running—but then he saw it. The way her posture stiffened, the way her hands smoothed over the edges of the papers like they were something fragile, something vital. But whatever this was—it mattered.
She flipped through the pages, and for the first time since he’d met her, he saw something rare. Excitement. A flicker of life.
"It’s a wonderful breakthrough, Joel," she said, and there was a rare enough lightness in her voice, bordering on unguarded enthusiasm.
Joel just blinked. Leela wasn’t the type to get excited. Or maybe he's just never seen it in her before.
"So, I’ve been working on…" then she went into something technical for his dense mind, talking fast in words that blurred together. It all went miles over his head. Circuits, electrical theory, conduction points—half of it might as well have been a foreign language.
Joel just stared when she finished with a deep breath.
Leela instantly caught the look and pursed her lips. "Okay, um. Let me put it this way."
She shifted toward him, gesturing as she spoke, putting it into Layman's terms. "You know how the dam stops producing enough energy in winter? When the river freezes over?"
Joel gave a slow nod.
"So we rely on fuel, but fuel’s very limited. We've got the town expanding, and people coming in. So our batteries drain. If we had an alternative energy source, something reliable—" She held up the paper, tapping a rough sketch. "And that’s where this comes in."
Her hands moved as she spoke, cutting through the air with sharp, purposeful gestures. Not just passion, not just expertise. Conviction.
"Lightning is erratic, but it’s raw power. Joules of energy. Think about it. If we can direct a strike into a controlled medium—like a graphene capacitor—we can store it."
Joel narrowed his eyes, the concept clicking into his lagging brain. "So what, you think you can catch a goddamn thunderstorm and turn it into a battery?"
Leela wheezed a quiet laugh. "More or less."
He thought about it. "Seems like a hell of a thing to gamble on."
"It’s not a gamble. It’s math. Physics. It will work, Joel, I know it."
Joel didn’t argue. He didn’t understand it, not really, but he’d seen Leela work before. He trusted her genius. The nights she couldn't sleep—he’d sometimes blink awake to the sound of chalk scraping against a blackboard, catching sight of her standing there in the dim glow of the bulb, mapping something out with surgical precision. Or hunched over a notebook, scribbling feverishly, lost in calculations that only made sense to her.
It wasn’t just her passion—it was her outlet. A relief. A tether to something greater than herself, something she could control before she lost herself completely in the demands of motherhood. And if this was what she was holding onto, then perhaps it was more than just an idea.
She tucked the paper back into the stack, leveling him with a quiet look. "I also have a prototype," she said simply.
Joel raised a brow.
Leela nodded toward the hallway. "It’s in the basement if you want to see."
Joel wasn’t big on machines. Or gear. The finer technical details weren’t for him. But—he glanced at her, at the way she stood, weight shifting from foot to foot, something unreadable behind her eyes.
She wasn’t pushing him. She was waiting.
After a beat, he sighed, tilting his head toward the door. "Lead the way, ma'am."
X
The stairs were steep, the kind that creaked under their weight, but Joel kept a firm hold on Leela’s elbow, steadying her as they made their way down. She was still weak. Too breakable. As far as his knowledge went, she should've gotten better by now. And how the hell was she supposed to do that when she barely ate without cringing?
Joel had half a mind to tell her that, to point out how unsteady she was, how she winced when she put too much pressure on her feet—but she’d just brush him off with a shaky smile. So instead, he let out a quiet breath through his nose and adjusted his grip, keeping her close until they reached the bottom.
"There you go. Watch that last step," he guided as gently as he could.
She glanced up at him from the fringes of a smile, letting his hands go. "Thank you."
He expected damp walls, waterlogged corners, mould creeping up the corners, and a basement that smelled like rot and rust. As what he had been always used to when he went scouring towns nearby for supplies. What he got instead stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Well, I’ll be damned," he blew out.
It was a workshop. A big-ass one. Tools lined up on the magnetic walls, neatly arranged, half-finished projects sitting on a worktable, schematics pinned up in careful rows. More of Leela's notes and markers, taped-up designs. Funny how there was life only around all this machinery. Off to the side, an old wine cellar, the glass cases still intact, though the bottles inside were coated in dust.
And then—the cars.
Joel let out a low whistle. Two of them. Just sitting there like some abandoned luxury showroom. One was a Dodge Aspen, a classic in its own right. All violet and under repair. But the other...—his eyes caught the silver emblem glinting under the dim basement light. A prancing horse on the red steel.
"Come on," he muttered in disbelief, stepping forward, barely resisting the urge to run his hand over the hood. "Is that a… Maranello?"
Leela took a deep breath, still recovering from the stairs. "Yes. Custom made. Not sure if there's any left out there anymore."
"Holy shit." His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t want to seem desperate, but fuck, when was the last time he’d seen something like this? Much less, been this close?
"Can I, uh…" He gestured indistinctly at the car.
Leela flashed him a small grin. "Knock yourself out. The door's unlocked."
He didn’t need to be told twice. Joel reached out, fingers brushing over cool, crimson steel before yanking the door open. The new car smell hit him right in the face—leather, polish, something untouched by time. His chest tensed at the familiarity of it.
He slid into the driver’s seat, running his hands over the wheel, the knitting around the stick shift, and the soft beige leather of the custom interior. And just for a second—he let himself imagine it. Top down. Gliding down the I-10, no speed limits, no patrols, just him and the open road, wind in his hair, sun on his face, Raybans on. That dream all felt like a lifetime ago.
A soft knock on the passenger side window startled him back to reality.
Leela’s face appeared through the glass, her lips quirked in amusement. "Should I leave you two alone?"
Joel huffed, turning slightly to mask the grin tugging at his mouth. She opened the door and drudged her way inside, moving slowly. The descent had taken more out of her than she was willing to admit.
When she shut the door, he immediately rolled down his window, straining his ears toward the stairs. The one time he wished his hearing wouldn't betray him. Had he locked the door upstairs? Could he hear Maya if she cried? What if he couldn’t? How come Leela didn't seem to think about this? God, this girl really had no clue.
Her voice broke into his thoughts. "I wish I knew how to drive it." She ran her hand absentmindedly over the dashboard, voice softer now, almost wistful. "I believe the last great invention of man was the automobile."
"You said it," he mumbled.
Joel glanced at her and did a little mental math. She must’ve been nine, maybe ten when the outbreak hit. No middle school. No high school. No road trips, no late-night drives with her friends, music blasting. No first kiss. Just one world ending, and another one starting—a crueler one.
Leela exhaled, long and slow, sinking deeper into the leather seat like she could melt into it. Her fingers drummed idly on the handlebars, tracing invisible patterns, slipping into an old rhythm—one she didn’t even seem aware of.
Then, soft as a whisper, she started humming.
It was unhurried, quiet, like something she’d sung to herself a thousand times before. But it was enough to make Joel pause, something about the tune pulling at him. A half-buried memory, something from before. He knew that song. Hadn’t heard it in years, but it was still there, lodged somewhere deep in the creases of his mind.
"That’s—" He frowned, tilting his head, listening closer. "That Patsy Cline?"
Leela glanced up, surprise flickering across her face before something warmer took its place. "Walkin’ After Midnight. Yeah."
Joel hid a grin. "That is way before your time."
"So?" She smirked, tipping her head back against the seat, fingers still tapping, moving. "I had old parents. Rubbed off on me."
A layer beneath her words made Joel tread carefully. He, of all people, knew how age could sit heavy on a person, how some things weren’t worth prying open.
"Can’t have been that old," he muttered, though he wasn’t sure why he said it.
"My mom was seventy-eight when she passed."
Joel blinked. "W-o-w." The syllables came out slow, one after the other before he could stop himself.
Leela let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes this time. She glanced down, her fingers still moving, trailing over the leather, the stitching, following some old path only she could see.
"I miss them every day," she said, voice softer now, more distant. "I’m grateful they singled me out of those photographs. Brought me here." She gestured vaguely to the house above her, her home, before exhaling, like she was letting something go. "I just hope I’m doing them proud."
Joel felt something shift, and he realized: too much sharing. It had to go both ways. And he was never going to be ready for that. So he did what he did best, avoided and threw her off the scent.
"Man," he said abruptly, with a cluck of his tongue, "if I had the keys and some fuel, I’d ride the hell outta this beauty." The words came out before he could stop them. "And die a happy old man."
Leela laughed. A loud laugh, sounding much like her daughter just then, deep in her chest, like she hadn't done it in a long time.
"It’s got fuel," she said, still grinning. "You can still ride it."
"Just sitting here like it's nothing." He shook his head, a small laugh rolling out. "Christ. This is amazing."
He glanced down at the stick shift, thumb absently tracing the edge of the gear knob, but something else caught his eye.
Her nightgown. Hitched up, ruffled around the tops of her thighs, loose fabric pooling where she sat. Bare skin. Soft, smooth, taut over lean bone—too much of it. The way she shifted, unthinking, rubbing one knee over the other, restless. He felt a rock dislodge in his throat.
Fuck. For all that he could be—a guardian, a protector—he had to be a man.
His fingers curled against his palm, an old instinct, something long-trained. Look away, don’t think about it. He turned back to the wheel, forcing his eyes forward. Dashboard. Windshield. Glove compartment. The thin layer of dust coating the steering column. Anything but the way one more inch of movement would have left too much for his mind to comprehend.
But the problem was—she hadn’t bothered to fix it. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t care. So why should he?
He swallowed, jaw flexing tight. Because that was the kind of man he was. Greying, frustrated, scarce on love.
His fingers twitched, itching for something to do, something to grab. Instead, he moved without thinking, across the partition—one finger. Just a light tug, barely a breath of a touch, dragging the hem of her gown down, covering her knees. A simple thing. A quiet thing. A mistake.
Her whole body jerked, a sharp intake of breath—like she’d been touched by fire. Really, Joel felt it more than he saw it. The way her muscles tensed, a shudder raced, the quick clutch of her fingers as she held the fabric in place now, suddenly conscious of it.
Shit.
He withdrew instantly, fingers curling into a fist on the steering wheel. Should’ve just minded his goddamn business. Stupid, stupid man.
For a second, the air between them felt too tight. Even with the windows rolled down and winter winds howling outside, he broke into a sweat.
"Didn't see it," she mumbled.
He just shook his head, a small, dismissive grunt, keeping his eyes straight ahead. And that was that.
But the silence that settled over them after wasn’t comfortable. Not one either of them knew how to break.
Joel exhaled through his nose, fixing his stare on the windshield., fingers tapping slowly against the wheel, like he could smooth out the moment just by waiting it out. Jesus, he should’ve never touched her. Should’ve let it be.
“So, that prototype of yours,” he attempted to distract, voice rough. “You got it nearby?”
No response.
He frowned, risked a glance at her—and stopped cold.
Leela sat stiff in the passenger seat, her posture folded in on itself. One slender hand curled at her side, gripping the hem of her nightgown tight until her knuckles went white, the other was pressed to her face, knuckles braced against her nose. Her eyes filled with tears in seconds.
A long, slow breath in, too shaky.
Joel’s stomach sank. He knew that sound. He had seen a lot of it in his time. Had seen grief in all its forms—loud, violent, shattering. But this—this was different. This was quiet, heavy, desperate.
Her shoulders hitched, her breath sucking in too sharp like she was holding something back—something about to give.
And then, just like that, as if a thread had been cut, she sucked in another sharp breath, her whole body curling forward, hands coming up to cover her face—and it hit.
That same soft, keening sound he’d heard from her room almost every night. The one that came through thin walls, muffled by pillows, engulfed by fatigue.
But this time, she wasn’t hiding.
And Joel—he didn’t know what to do. His hands flexed against the wheel, confused and useless.
She wasn’t supposed to be crying. Not because of his pathetic self. Whichever way he saw it, this was his fault. He’d crossed a line, broken through a wall he’d meant to keep standing, and now she was here—crying. Because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.
His mouth opened, and his throat worked, but nothing happened. Fuck. What the hell was he even supposed to say? Everything seemed inappropriate. There was no justification for what he'd done.
His fingers curled tighter, nails digging into his palm. He had to fix it. Before it got worse.
His voice came out too rough, uncertain. “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Just go.”
It hit like a crack of thunder. A faint, clear command, strangled between a cry. His stomach twisted.
He hesitated for half a second, long enough to hear the way her breath hitched, how her fingers curled deeper into her hair, how she looked like she wanted to fold in on herself, disappear into the goddamn leather seat.
He swallowed, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
He'd had seen women cry before. Ellie, Tess, hell even Maria. He’d occasionally held them while they did. But not this. Not her. And he hated—hated—that it was because of him.
His fingers flexed against his sides, fighting the instinct to reach out, to fix something he wasn’t sure could be fixed. But she’d made herself perfectly clear. To leave her alone.
So he did.
He wrenched the door open, barely registering the way it swung shut behind him. Didn’t look back, didn’t breathe until he was back up the stairs and out the door.
As he jogged down the porch stairs, the cold biting sharper now, cutting straight through the thick weave of his sweater, Joel tried to breathe. Snowflakes clung to the expensive fabric, melting fast, sinking in. He barely noticed. His inhales came long, exhales too short, not quite ragged, but uneven—like he couldn’t get enough air, like something in his chest was pressing down too hard, and no matter how deep he pulled, it wasn’t letting up.
It wasn’t panic. He knew what that felt like all too well.
This was different. A slow, creeping wrongness. A feeling that something had already slipped through his fingers, something he hadn’t even realized he was holding onto. And now it was gone, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to fix it.
He pressed a hand to his mouth, and wiped it down the scruff on his jaw, trying to steady himself, trying to shove it all back where it belonged. It wasn’t working.
His fingers curled into an aching fist. His breath fogged in the air in clouds.
He needed that fucking drink now.
X
The cold still lingered in the morning air, settling deep in Joel’s bones, but that wasn’t the only thing weighing him down. He hadn’t slept worth a damn. Tossed and turned all night, drifting in and out of restless half-dreams—images he didn’t want, memories he didn’t need. He woke up cold, despite the blankets, with a dull ache in his joints, and a scratch in his throat. Maybe from the weather. Maybe from something else.
Didn’t matter.
What mattered was getting out of that house. Getting up, getting moving. Keeping his hands busy, keeping his mind from straying where it wanted to go—back to last night, back to the way she had curled in on herself, hands to her face, shaking with something he couldn’t fix. He despised being around something unfixable. Made him feel incompetent.
He gripped the stack of papers tighter, the edges digging into his fingers as he stepped into the stables. Tommy was there, adjusting the saddle on one of the mares, humming some old tune under his breath. The familiar smell of hay, leather, and horse filled the space, grounding Joel in the moment. He clung to that.
“Tommy,” Joel called, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.
Tommy glanced up, brow lifting in mild curiosity. “Mornin’, brother. No hard feelings from last night,” he said, giving the straps one last tug before stepping back. His gaze flickered to the papers in Joel’s hand. “What’s all this?”
Joel didn’t answer right away. Just extended them out. Tommy brushed his palms off before taking them, flipping through the pages absentmindedly—until he wasn’t. His fingers slowed, putting together the pieces, his brows knitting together, his mouth parting just slightly.
"What in the... I mean—I talked to her about this,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Told her we'd be having trouble. That was last week.” He let out a low breath, rubbing at his mouth as he stared at the pages like they had just appeared out of thin air. "She really did all this?"
Joel exhaled with a slight grin, feeling like someone had just handed him a gold star. An odd feeling settled in his chest—one he didn’t quite know what to do with. It wasn’t his place to feel this way, no right to. But still, pride curled warm and solid in his ribs.
“She stayed up workin’ on ‘em,” Joel muttered, not quite looking at him.
Tommy let out a short whistle, shaking his head. “Christ. This little genius just saved our asses out of the red.” He waved the papers at him. “Takin' this straight to Maria.”
Joel rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat. “Not just yet. There's a page is missing.”
Tommy paused and frowned, flipping through again. “The hell you talkin’ about?”
Joel crossed his arms, tilting his head. “I’ll give it to you if you let me fix that nursery instead of that goddamn kid.”
Tommy looked up at that, blinking. Then, realization dawned, slow and amused. His mouth curved into a smirk.
“For real, Joel?”
Joel scoffed, shaking his head. “Can’t even fix shelves right.”
Tommy cocked a brow. “He's just doing his job.”
“Little shit damn near had it fallin’ apart the last time I was there,” he argued. “Look, do you want the page or not? I'll just feed it to the horse.”
Tommy let out a sharp laugh, tipping his head back slightly. “You really got a bone to pick with this poor guy, huh?”
Joel’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t answer. Just kept his arms crossed, eyes unwavering. He wasn't backing down just yet.
Tommy shook his head, flipping the last page with a chuckle. “Fine, fine. You can fix whatever you want.” Then, without missing a beat, he held out his hand. “Now gimme the damn page.”
Joel handed it over without another word. But the way Tommy was still looking at him—grinning like he had something to say but was letting Joel walk away with his dignity intact—had him turning on his heel before his brother could get the last word in.
X
[ wow you read this far! now, if you're still reading, I'd just like to know - what song crept into your mind, about Joel or Leela, as you read this chapter? For Joel, definitely: Pain and Misery by The Teskey Brothers and as for Leela, ooooh: Wasteland by Royal & the Serpent! what about you? ]
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#joel miller#joel tlou#joel the last of us#the last of us hbo#tlou joel#joel miller tlou#pedro pascal#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#joel miller x oc#joel miller x you#the last of us fic#joel miller x original character#joel miller x female oc#joel miller fanfiction#tlou hbo#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller pedro pascal#game!joel#soft joel miller#dad joel miller#jackson!joel#grumpy joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n
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afterglow
pairing: joel miller x reader
description: in which, you spend an evening with joel on valentines day.
tags: MDNI! smut and fluff, established relationship, jackson!joel, fem!reader, sickeningly cute, so so much kissing, soft!joel (but hes also kinda dirty, i can't help myself), age gap (it was thought about when writing but it's not explicitly stated so imagine whatever), oral (f receiving, munch joel!! everyone cheered), fingering, unprotected piv (he pulls out), soft!dom joel kinda, aftercare, r and j's relationship is new but its implied that she already has a close relationship with ellie.
a/n: happy valentines day cuties!!! my gift to you. this started off super cute and soft and then two thirds of it became smut, idk where that came from. anywho, happy reading!!
wc: 3k
“hi darlin’,” joel says as you open the door.
the early evening sun casts a soft orange glow over the side of face, complementing his complexion perfectly. a shy, crooked smile tugs at his lips, the dimple on his right cheek deepening. one arm is folded behind him, holding something from your view and the other is planted against the frame of your door.
“hi baby,” you reply, giggling as you step forward to kiss him.
he accepts your lips eagerly, using the hidden arm to curl around your waist. you hear the faint crinkle of paper against your back. you hum sweetly into the kiss, pulling away to see what he’s got for you. a small bouquet appears between your bodies–a humble bunch of white and purple flowers that could handle growing in the cold weather, along with some that you suspect the gardeners had a role in providing.
“maria went on patrol with me today and helped me pick some o’ these out,” he explains, watching you toy with a lilac petal of a flower he can't be damned to remember the name of. “d’ya like em?”
your fingers rake softly through his beard, coaxing his gaze upward until his eyes meet yours. tears gather at your waterline, and joel should probably be alarmed—but he’s grown used to it, having been there for so many of your firsts. apparently, getting flowers was one of them too.
“i’ve never got flowers before,” you admit in a hushed whisper, sickening adoration pooling into your body, making you feel warm all over despite the cold air that sneaks its way into your house.
joel takes note of the wind picking up and guides you inside, a solid hand at the small of your back. he takes your dazed figure all the way to the kitchen, grinning amusedly at how you continue to admire the bouquet. he looks through your cabinets for something tall enough, settling when he finds a mason jar that would be perfect.
“i really like these, joel.” you smile up at him when he's in front of you again. he's holding his hand out expectantly and the jar filled with water in the opposite one. you give him the flowers with a reluctant pout, following him to the counter where he begins to set them up.
“‘m glad,” he expresses warmly, untying the ribbon that held the stems together. “damn shame i couldn't get you roses, the garden ran out pretty quick.”
you can’t help the fond smile that spreads across your face as you watch him try to organise the flowers nicely, carefully moving them around so he doesn't accidentally pull off a petal. when he's happy with his arrangement he turns back to you, neatly folding up the brown paper that wrapped the bouquet and placing it in your palm. “ellie made me promise to tell you that she helped with that so keep it in mind, i guess,” he says, nodding to the doodles of leaves that were peppered along the edges.
“noted,” you laugh, picturing her fiery, insisting nature with ease. you gotta fuckin’, i don’t know, make it pretty for her, joel. just ugh- give it to me.
suddenly, you remember the muffins that were kept warm in the oven. you scurry over there wordlessly, causing joel to twitch confusedly. you take the tray out with quick fingers, holding a muffin out for joel.
“it's a new recipe, cinnamon and pear,” you explain excitedly as he walks over to you. when he looks down at it, he sees you’ve managed to orchestrate two small slices of fruit to sit in a heart shape and it's awfully cute.
your eyes are trained intently on him as he takes a bite. it's instantly the best thing he's ever tasted but he chews thoughtfully for a few more seconds so it doesn't look like he's making his mind up on a whim. admittedly, he is but it's also just that good. the texture of the warm cooked pear complimenting the firm but soft spiced crumb of the muffin. he hums in approval when he swallows, shaking his head in disbelief.
“sweetheart, this is really fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, his voice rough in appreciation as he dusts off muffin remnants that have stuck to his bottom lip.
you beam, extremely pleased. you wait as he finishes eating. not that long, apparently, as two big bites later, it’s gone. he reaches up with his free hand and tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, twirling it before letting it fall.
“so about today,” he starts and you hum attentively. “thought we’d take a walk around that part of town that you like and then go feed the horses. maybe go back to mine if there's time.”
-
the walk is perfect. you swing your joined hands between your bodies, smiling to yourself while joel complains about his brother. the air is solemn, the overwhelming scent and sound of love seeping out of every house you walk by. you never thought life could be this good again or that you’d feel this good again. you owe it all to the mumblin’ grumblin’ man beside you, the one softly caressing your thumb with his own, bringing it up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of your hand.
when you reach the stables, joel pulls out the carrots he had tucked away in his large jacket pocket. (you’d made a detour at the greenhouse before coming here.) you divide the carrots into equal pieces for the animals, setting aside an extra chunk for a horse you remember ellie being particularly fond of–shimmer, if you recall correctly.
joel takes in the sight, endearing eyes unable to part from you. your hand reaching out calmly, vegetable centred in your palm, you bring it to the horse's mouths, giggling when their tongues peek out and tickle you. he crowds in behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle. you squirm a little when he tilts to press a kiss to your neck, claiming his lips are cold.
“well, let me warm ‘em up, sweetheart.”
-
you make it to joel's front door well after sundown, stars shining like diamonds spilled across the night sky. you make a mental note to go stargazing with him and ellie, if she wants, when the weather gets warmer. for now, you just want to be inside.
“she’s with her friend dina tonight,” joel answers your unasked, looming question. you bite back the smile that the words ‘friend’ and ‘dina’ prompt, knowing a lot more than joel about his kids’ relationship status. she's just waiting for the right time.
you turn around to him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so what you’re saying,” you muse lightly. “is that we have the place to ourselves.”
“mhm,” he smirks.
you twist the door open, often left unlocked, and let yourself through. “well then. come on in, mr. miller.”
he trails behind you up the steps, fingers lacing with yours. you walk into his room with a quiet sigh, taking off your shoes and watching as he follows suit. you love his room, a cultivation of who he is within four walls. you switch on the lamp on his bedside table, refraining from turning the main light so a faint glow encompasses the room, just enough to see the softness in his beautiful brown eyes.
“kiss me?”
he clicks his teeth before lowering his lips to yours, “don’t have to ask.”
his moustache tickles your upper lip and the coarse hair of his beard grazes your chin lightly, but it's not irritating. you welcome the sensation, it being a feature of his that you adore so dearly. proving this, your nails scratch the patch of grey at his jaw.
his tongue slips out, tracing the seam of your lips. a low sound escapes you when you grant him entrance, licking into your mouth languidly. there's no rush, there never is. it's a luxury that three months ago you would’ve laughed at, disbelief evident.
his hands find your waist, pulling your hips flush together. he slips off your jacket and greedily tugs at the hem of your shirt. you appease by lifting your arms. he reaches behind you when he gets your shirt off, deftly unclasping your bra. he does this all while kissing you, but when he finally gets your top half bare, he pulls away. to look.
“beautiful,” he exhales a quick, amazed breath that whooshes past his lips. he admires you unabashedly, trailing his hands up your sides and down your front. he nudges you gently, guiding you onto the bed, his frame looming over yours as you sit down.
you look up at him with dopey, half-lidded eyes, sneaking eager hands under his flannel and undershirt. your fingers trace over his skin, pressing into the soft warmth of his stomach, his body heat sinking into your palms. “back at ya, cowboy."
he takes this as a sign to peel off his layers, pulling them off with ease and adding them to the pile of discarded clothes. you spend a moment gaping at his torso before he lowers himself on top of you, dragging his lips up your neck as he does so. you whine when he begins sucking at your pulse point, teeth scraping your skin every so often. his kisses go lower and lower as he toys with the button of your jeans.
he kisses at your belly, lips catching on the exposed skin of your hips, then upper thighs as he slowly pulls your jeans and underwear down, purposefully avoiding where you need him most. he strips off his pants and boxers and nudges for you to scoot up the bed. you sink into the pile of pillows, joel not far behind as he sits bracketed by your thighs. he runs his hands up and down them, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, squeezing in intervals and leaning down to kiss them, kiss your knees and your calves.
“joel, please,” you whisper, growing a little antsy, his hands all over your body aren't helping.
“impatient,” he tuts, but there's no real reprimand in his voice. “jus’ let me take my time with you.”
“will you at least come up here and kiss me while you're at it?”
he smiles, “what’d i tell ya?”
“don't have to-” your poor impression of his southern drawl gets cut off by his lips on yours. you sigh dreamily into the kiss; you'll never get used to that feeling. his hand cradles your jaw, tilting it to deepen this kiss. you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking it into your mouth.
a needy sound rumbles in the back of his throat, and with a reluctant pull, he breaks away, shifting back to the space between your legs. he's lying on his stomach, cheek pressed against your inner thigh as he waits for your approval. when you nod, he dives in, no time to waste.
he licks a fat stripe between your folds, causing you to cry out. he hooks an arm over your hips to cease your writhing. you could say joel miller eats you out like a man starved, but right now, it's more like a savoured meal, slow and leisurely in its pace. he takes his time, measured strokes of tongue that are assuredly making you feel all the right kinds of ways. you thread your fingers through his hair, so soft, tugging lightly and he hums.
you dare to spare a glance down. it's deadly–him with his mouth attached to you like a vice and eyes staring up at you, decidedly looking like he belongs there. you want to look away but the sight is so enticing.
“baby, more,” you ask breathlessly. “please.”
“yeah?” he sounds equally out of breath, tracing a middle and ring finger around your entrance. “this what you want?”
you nod pathetically with a meek “yes.”
he pushes in slowly, met with no resistance. he finds that spot fast, pressing his curled fingers up. his fingers are longer and thicker than yours, reaching places you’d never been able to. he persistently rubs up, pulling out a little only to go back fast, just the way you like. all the while, he does this thing with his tongue–god, that tongue–where he flicks it from side to side over your clit, flattening it when needed, and it is earth-shattering.
that well-known feeling starts to build and you repeatedly tug at joel's hair, mewling softly, trying to signal him. he’d already figured you were close, but still, he nods. he lifts his head to see you, his thumb replacing his tongue.
“c’mon, sweetheart. give it to me,” he urges you on, kissing your hip bone with slick wet lips and his fingers working fervently like it's the most important thing in the world. joel would argue that right now, it is. “know you want to.”
“joel, yes, oh fuck-” you keen, shuddering violently as you finish. he keeps going, working you through it, lapping up the mess when his fingers slip out. he can't get enough of you. you weakly push at his head, “baby, enough. s’too much.”
suddenly, he's on top of you again, rubbing a clean hand over your hair. “okay, okay,” he coos, his voice low and lulling. he presses gentle pecks to your neck, making his way back up to your lips. you kiss him again, more sluggish than previously, whimpering when you taste yourself on him. fuck, you need him.
you carefully drift a hand between your bodies, curling your fingers around his length. he hisses, inhaling a sharp breath. “shit, are you sure-”
you press him against you, guiding his tip to your slit. “fuck me, joel,” you whisper, using your other hand to hold his face.
that's all he needs to hear before he starts sinking into you, simultaneously groaning as he does. he curses low, though it sounds and looks more like a whine when you see the way his face has twisted up in pleasure when his hips are flush with yours. you feel addictively full, so you hug your arms around his shoulders to prolong the moment. he buries his head in your neck, breathing shallowly as you flutter around him.
“gotta move angel, i gotta-” he gets cut off when you squeeze, nodding against his shoulder.
he thrusts greedily, pulling out almost fully until he somehow goes in deeper. it’s not fast but it’s not slow either, just enough that it leaves you reeling when he draws his hips back. the stretch of him is something you feel you won't get used to, it only just borders on pain that makes it feel deliriously good. all you can offer him are broken gasps as you find purchase on his back with your nails, digging into the flesh.
“fuck you feel good, so so good,” he croons, his voice is soft, breathy, as he presses a lingering kiss to your neck, the words barely a whisper between your bodies. “can't believe you’re mine, this perfect fuckin’ body, perfect fuckin' girl.”
maybe it's the wrecked rasp to his voice or the way the base of his dick rubs against you just right but the high builds fast, record time even. you squeeze around him frantically, mouthing sloppily at his shoulder.
“yeah?” he pants, lifting his head so he can look at you again, you’ve got the sense that he likes to watch. you like him watching you. “gonna give me another one? gonna cum for me?”
“mhm,” you hum, teetering on a sob as he starts fucking you harder, a determined look in his eyes. your face falls sideways into the arm that joel had pressed beside your head “oh god, ohgod-”
“there you go. good girl,” he gushes warmly as you finish. he speeds up urgently, letting your climax be the catalyst of his own, chasing something just out of reach. you pull his face to yours with desperate hands, clinging to him, needing to kiss him. his lips brush over yours messily, not quite kissing you and it drives you crazy. he cums with one more strong thrust, groaning loudly into your open mouth as he pulls out and spills over your stomach.
he slumps on you, heavy, as he comes to, smearing stickiness all over but you find that you don’t care much. you cradle the back of his head with gentle hands, murmuring sweet things. you can feel his soft exhales on your collarbone, sighing as you weave your fingers between his strands. his heart races against your own, almost in sync.
the two of you stay like that for a moment longer as everything slows down. nothing else matters apart from the silvery glow of moonlight filtering through his sheer curtains, spilling in revered ribbons across the floor, or the soft, grounding weight of his body on top of yours. his fingers trace the skin within reach, absentminded circles over your hip bones, lines beneath the curve of your breast.
eventually, he rolls off you, getting the sense that some of your limbs might be going numb. in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze, you don’t realise that he leaves, returning with a damp towel to clean you up. he wipes you up swiftly, murmuring a hushed sorry when you squirm away and joins you under the covers.
he pulls you into his side, letting you tuck yourself under his arm. he presses a kiss to your temple. everything is so serene you want to cry. your body has other plans for you when the dregs of sleep start to claw at your worn-down edges. joel feels the slow flutter of your eyelashes on his chest and he begins to rub a gentle hand over your back, attempting to coax you further. sleep offers its solace, and joel’s steady presence pulls you under, silently promising to keep you warm.
before you drift off though, you hear him–unbearably soft, whispering against your forehead.
“happy valentine's day, angel girl.”
reblogs and replies are appreciated :) | m.list
#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller smut#smut#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#joel miller one shot
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More joel everybody ! :)
Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.
Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk
Word count: 4.7k
Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2
He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.
Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:
‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’
Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.
But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:
“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”
And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.
Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.
If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.
But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.
With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.
Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.
No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.
Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.
Where the FUCK was his cum?
In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.
He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.
“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”
But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.
You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.
“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.
Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.
“Hold still,” he grunted.
“How come?”
“‘Cause I said.”
How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.
“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.
But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.
Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.
He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.
He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:
“Jo-el—”
“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.
“Push?”
“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”
You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.
Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.
And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.
At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.
You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.
He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.
You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.
Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.
“Joel, what’s—”
“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”
Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.
“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”
Well, fuck.
Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.
“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.
An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.
“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”
You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.
“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.
You’re old.
Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.
“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”
You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?
For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.
“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.
Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.
“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”
What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.
He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.
“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”
You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.
Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.
Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—
“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.
“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.
Joel carried on without a hitch.
“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”
You nodded along, not hearing a word.
“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”
Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.
“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”
That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:
“My own age?”
Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.
You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.
“What?”
“What?”
Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.
“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”
Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’
And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.
This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.
“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.
No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.
Smiling a little, too.
“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.
“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”
Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.
“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”
You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.
“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”
“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”
Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.
“Baby…”
To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.
Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.
You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.
It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.
Feels nice.
Tastes alright, too.
You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.
“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”
Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.
And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.
“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.
Joel cursed under his breath.
“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”
“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”
As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again
“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”
In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.
He communicated as much by moving to pull out.
You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.
“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”
Of course, it had been Joel.
Always, always him—the only one, in fact.
Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:
‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’
He couldn’t.
Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.
But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.
“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.
“I do.”
In fact, he loved it.
“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?
Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.
Idiocy.
“Just once?” Joel croaked.
Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.
“Just one?” you murmured back.
He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.
“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.
“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.
Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.
“One?” Joel panted. Confused.
He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.
“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.
Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.
“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”
The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.
In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”
Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.
“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”
Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.
To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.
“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”
Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.
That’s all he’s ever wanted.
Let the neighbors talk.
Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:
“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.
The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.
Something to stick.
“Please say it, baby.”
Someone to call yours.
“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.
A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.
“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.
“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”
As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.
“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”
“Ri— right there. Right there.”
Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.
“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.
It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.
Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it
“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”
He kissed the tip of yours.
“Hope they get this.”
He kissed either one of your cheeks.
“These too.”
You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.
The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.
Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.
There it is.
#IN CONCLUSION……….WE MAKIN BABIES#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel tlou#the last of us fic
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Guns and Roses
joel miller x f!reader



synopsis: fantasizing about joel miller gets you a lot more than you bargain for.
rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.
warnings: semi-grump x sunshine, joel is described to be taller than reader, feelings, smut (which includes reader being consensually choked out / breath play so if you’re not into that, heed the warning).
word count: 7.2k
a/n: listen, in my head joel miller is a 6’5” hunk of a kinky motherfucker. happy valentine’s day.
Joel Miller.
Your breath catches in your throat when you see his name next to yours on this morning’s patrol partner list.
You’ve never been partnered up with him and yet, you feel as if you know all about him. How grumpy he is. How he’s usually in charge when it comes to patrols. How he has low patience, and a no-bullshit type attitude. Some say he’s blatantly mean, and others are just straight-up afraid of him.
You aren’t afraid of him per se, but he does make you nervous. He’s got a stare that makes heat simmer low in your belly and an angry brow that makes you want to kiss the tension away. You’ve caught him staring at you a few times and it’s always made your cheeks heat, shying away from his gaze and devastatingly handsome face.
You’re brushing Shimmer’s coat before you saddle her up. Joel hasn’t arrived at the stables yet, so you spend a few minutes petting Shimmer and softly talking to her while you wait.
It’s almost like you can feel him before you see him. A chill runs down your spine as you hear heavy boots on the ground, and you turn to see the tall, stoic man in the flesh. You don’t know whether or not to say something to him. How he responds can set the mood for the rest of your morning.
Ever the optimist, though, you decide to take a crack at it.
“Morning, Joel.” You try to keep your tone light and casual, throwing in a small smile.
He eyes you up and down for a second, but it isn’t in disgust—intrigue, rather. His gaze locks on yours before he steps into the stables, opening the latch door to Callus’s stall.
“Mornin’,” he finally answers. His voice is gruff and raw, probably being the first words he’s spoken today.
You want to say more, but you leave it at that. You may have heard about how he is from everyone else’s point of view, but you want to decipher him for yourself. You just don’t want to push his buttons, especially at six thirty in the morning.
You huff and pet Shimmer one last time. “You ready, gorgeous girl?” You coo at her, giggling when she licks your hand. You mount yourself onto Shimmer’s back, grabbing the reins before clicking your tongue twice to get her to turn out of the stables. You glance back at Joel, catching him staring at you once again.
“I’ll, uh, meet you at the gate,” you say. He just gives you a small nod, and you face forward once more before guiding Shimmer to the gates where a couple of others wait. You greet everyone a cheerful good morning before Joel’s beside you, and it’s not long before everyone is sent on their way.
The sun has risen brilliantly and the chilly January air wraps around you as you trail behind Joel on his right side. Your eyes roam down his broad body, licking your lips as your gaze settles on the gun holster that’s clad to his thigh.
Suddenly your mind envisions Joel above you, staring at you with such carnal desire that it makes your whole core positively ache. You imagine he’s the super dominant type—possessive, territorial, and greedy in the best way possible. You can see him easily picking you up, slamming you against a wall while he fucks you senseless. He’s probably also the type of man that eats pussy for his own pleasure, not allowing himself to get off until he’s made you cum at least twice.
Well, fuck.
A whine almost slips past your lips and you’re back to reality, and your eyes shoot up to Joel’s as you find him staring at you completely unamused. You know your cheeks are burning, and you nearly wince when he has to repeat himself because you were too busy daydreaming about how good he’d take care of you—
Jesus Christ, you need a cold shower.
“Christ, Sunshine, are you even payin’ any mind to me?” He’s irritated and it makes you want to get swallowed up by a hole in the ground.
“Sorry, uh, what did you say?”
He sighs as if he’s completely inconvenienced, grumbling something under his breath and—wait, did he just call you ‘Sunshine’?
“Said the log book ain’t too far from here. Let’s scope out the area to make sure it’s clear before we sign it n’ head back,” he says. You nod and follow his lead, surely trying not to piss him off any further.
Joel ties Callus’s reins to a nearby tree, and you’re about to dismount Shimmer when Joel raises his hands up to you. You furrow your brows in confusion, wondering what the hell he’s doing before he rolls his eyes with a huff.
“Ain’t got all damn day, Sunshine. C’mon.”
You loop your feet out of the stirrups, Joel’s hands catching your waist as you slide down Shimmer’s side. You land right in front of him, so close that you can feel his breath on you. So close that you can easily inhale his scent, and he’s all earthy, manly musk with a hint of coffee. He smells absolutely divine.
You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your face. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage and you literally have to remind yourself to breathe. He’s just so fucking close and it’s so goddamn dizzying.
You should say something. You’re about to, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth turn up into a smug smirk before he turns his body away from yours to walk toward the small shack that has the log book in it. You’re taking this time—the distance away from him—to catch your breath and keep a watchful eye on the area, making sure it’s in the clear.
Joel reemerges a few minutes later, and the sun catches on his gun in his thigh holster. The handle gleams and your eyes are drawn to it once more. You’re staring at his thighs now, wondering how it would be if you rutted yourself over them.
Your eyes snap up to Joel’s once again, and he’s looking at you with a quirked brow.
“Signed the book. We all good here?” He gestures his hand to the vicinity, and you nod.
“All good.”
Shit. Your voice is breathless. You really can’t be any more obvious.
You mount yourself back onto Shimmer, waiting for Joel to lead ahead of you to start heading back home.
“So,” Joel starts, and his voice startles you. He slows Callus down so Shimmer can catch up to him and you both ride side-by-side. “Where are you from?” He asks, and you have to hold back a snort. Small talk is not something you expected him to resort to.
“QZ or pre-outbreak?” You counter back, looking at him as he faces ahead. You admire his side profile like this and he’s all strong jaw, beautifully chiseled nose, and plush lips. The leaves on the trees contrast beautifully against his golden skin, spewing glimpses of yellow and bright green.
“Pre, I guess.”
“California. You?”
He raises an eyebrow at that. “Texas. So you’re a city girl?”
This time you can’t help but huff a laugh and roll your eyes.
“No, Texas, not all of California is glitz and glamour,” you’re full-on giggling now, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in what you assume to be his half-assed attempt at smiling.
“What do you miss most about it?”
You don’t even need to think about it. Without missing a beat, you look at him with a soft smile before murmuring, “The ocean.”
He doesn’t say anything after that. You both head back into the gates of Jackson in peace, dismounting the horses and going about your days after reporting back to Maria.
Over the next couple of weeks, you’re getting paired with Joel every time you’re on morning patrol. You keep fantasizing about him and having him in the dirtiest way possible, and the tension is growing rapidly.
Joel’s jaw is taut when you bat your lashes up at him, and your cheery demeanor has his walls slowly crumbling down just for you.
It’s too much, though. The tension is palpable, nearly making you suffocate in the want and desire you have for this man—someone you have absolutely no business pining after.
You have to ask Tommy to take you off of patrol duty for a few days and have someone else fill in while you volunteer to take care of the horses in the stables or tend to the greenhouse.
You don’t see Joel for nearly a week, and you come to the realization that it kind of drives you crazy.
The next time you see him is at dinner in the mess hall. Joel stands in all his glory, sporting a green flannel that hugs his biceps perfectly and pants that hang on his hips like a glove. He’s also got that damn holster strapped around his thigh again, probably because he had just gotten back from patrol not too long ago.
When his eyes meet yours from across the room, you know you’re doomed.
And when he shoots you a barely there smile, but one you recognize nonetheless, you’re absolutely done for.
You swallow harshly and go back to paying attention to the conversation happening with your table, trying to ignore the holes he’s burning into your head. A dark, desirable warmth stirs deep in you and you have to force yourself to pay attention to what’s going on around you. The whiskey you drank definitely isn’t helping you, either.
You barely talk all dinner though, too nervous with the older Miller brother’s lingering gaze on you for most of the night.
You clean up after you’ve eaten and give Maria a grateful smile and hug, thanking her for a wonderful dinner. She eyes you conspicuously, knowing that you love being a part of community events since tonight is movie night. She finds it odd when you tell her you’re turning in early tonight, but she lets it go without question.
You walk out of the mess hall, shivering immediately as the cold air hits your body. You weren’t very well dressed for the cold weather, and while it was nice in the mess hall, you’re regretting not layering up this when it’s so cold outside.
You hear heavy footsteps behind you, walking fast to try and catch up to you. Once again, you can already tell who it is before you even turn around.
“Leavin’ so early, Sunshine?” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, but it can easily be passed off as being too cold.
“Um, yeah, gonna turn in for the night.” You muster up a tight-lipped smile, not meeting his eyes before turning back around.
Joel puts a hand on your shoulder and electricity zings through your entire body. “Reckon I can walk you home, since I’m already out here.”
Fuck.
“Sure,” you say, tensing under his touch. You can’t see it, but he furrows his brows at you and cautiously falls in step with you as you walk back home.
“Jesus, Sunshine, you’re freezin’.” He takes off his thick coat and wraps it around your shoulders, and you’re nearly a fucking puddle on the floor. The coat smells like him and it takes everything in you to not bury your nose in the fabric and inhale. His scent is intoxicating.
Everything about him is intoxicating.
It’s not long before you both reach your doorstep after a few minutes of walking in silence. You fumble with the key to open your front door, nerves heightening once again.
Jesus Christ, you need to get a hold of yourself.
Once you get the door open, you stand there for a beat before looking up at him. He’s all alluring brown eyes and subtle sexy smirk that makes you gooey in the knees.
You contemplate it for a moment, but before you can overthink your decision, you bite the bullet and ask against your better judgement. “Do you want to come in?”
He hesitates, assessing you. He nods after a few seconds and follows you inside, and you feel your pulse start to race quicker. It’s irritating how much of an effect he has on you, and he doesn’t even know it.
“Nice place you got,” he says, running a hand through his hair before taking a seat on your couch. He spreads his thighs wide, taking up so much fucking room, and all it makes you want to do is be all over him.
There’s just no fucking way he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you.
“Thank you.” You don’t really know what to say to him at this point. Conversation flowed so easily on patrol, but now you’re in this confined space with him and want nothing more than his lips on yours, consuming your entire being.
“Can I, uh, get you anything?”
Be more awkward, yeah? You chastise yourself for being unable to behave normally around him.
“Just your company,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the couch. You swallow thickly and make your way over, plopping yourself down on the couch, leaving enough distance between the two of you.
He chuckles lowly under his breath, but you still hear it against the stark quietness of your quaint home.
“So how come I haven’t seen you on patrol lately?” His deep voice is like plunging into a warm, dark abyss. It’s full of the unknown but so comforting at the same time, and it makes your head swim.
You shrug your shoulders, gaze moving to your hands that fidget in your lap. “Just wanted to focus on helping out elsewhere.”
“Bullshit. I think you’re lying.” He says it with such confidence, cocking his head to the side as he studies you. You didn’t think he’d call you out so easily.
Your brows shoot up. “I am not—!”
Even you could hear the blatant defensiveness in your tone. You look at him with a fiery gaze, brows furrowed downward at his all-too-true accusations.
“You are. Why haven’t you been on patrol?” His voice is huskier now, knowingly eyeing you like he can see right through you.
“Dammit, Joel,” you huff, tipping your head back against the couch. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
The truth. As if it were that simple.
Yeah Joel, truth is that me, little miss innocent Sunshine, has been fantasizing about you fucking my brains out every time I see you, you think.
Joel moves closer and his face is mere inches away from yours, brown eyes intense as they watch you in such a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Your gaze shifts elsewhere because the tension is too much, and you’re left feeling like a shell of a woman under his scrutiny.
And that’s when you realize he already knows. You don’t need to tell him shit, because somehow, some way, he knows your dirty little secret and the ways you fantasize about him.
“Trust me, Sunshine. Last thing you want is to get tangled up with a guy like me.”
Your eyes snap up to his.
”And that’s where you’re wrong, Joel. I want you.”
“‘S a dangerous game you’re playin’, baby.”
Baby.
“I’m not playing games, Joel,” you say. There’s a finality in your voice that really let him know you weren’t fucking around. “You seriously wanna know why I asked Tommy to be taken off of patrol?”
He gives you a slow, singular nod. The muscle in his jaw ticks as something fiery blazes behind his darkened eyes.
“Every single time I’m around you, I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. Your presence is all-consuming, and every time I look at you, all I can picture is the ways I want you to have me. It’s not normal, Joel. That—that is why I asked to be taken off of patrol.”
His expression doesn’t waver, but the muscle in his jaw ticks impossibly faster. He’s as still as a statue, and it’s so fucking quiet that you can hear a pin drop.
There’s also another reason why you didn’t want to tell him: rejection.
You can see him fighting a battle in his head, and this is already humiliating enough as it is. You don’t think you can handle the I don’t want you words that’ll eventually spill out of his mouth, so you stand up and take a deep breath, walking toward the door. You tug it open and his brows furrow as you stare at him expectantly.
“I just—please, just leave.”
His lips flatten into a straight line before he stands up and takes a few strides to get to where you’re at. He’s gazing down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to say something before he snaps it shut seconds later. His face hardens into that infamous grumpy stare, all harsh lines and tight jaw.
He walks out without saying another word.
You close your front door and slump against it, heaving out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Your eyes snap up to the ceiling, and regret begins to sink her nasty claws into your skin.
Fuck.
-
A couple of weeks pass after that whole incident in your house with Joel. You’re awoken by a loud knock on your door, and you grumble the whole way down before opening it. Tommy stands in the frame with a pleading look, and you furrow your brows as you try to fully wake up.
“Tommy…?”
“Hey sweetheart. I need a big favor,” he says. He shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking like he wants to dash away at any given second.
“What is it?”
“Christy called out from her patrol shift today and you’re pretty much the only one who knows the routes well enough to cover.”
You scrub your face with your hands, and peek an eye out from behind your fingers.
“Only because it’s you, Tommy,” you huff a laugh, and he flashes you his bright smile.
“You’re a lifesaver. Maria and I are really grateful.”
“It’s the least I can do,” you say, but then you pause. “Who’s my partner for this shift?”
Tommy’s eyes avert to the wood on your porch, and you immediately knew. You didn’t know how much Tommy knew about this thing, whatever the hell it was, between you and Joel.
You’re not really sure it’s a thing anymore, though, considering you kicked him out after telling him how you really feel. You have no idea what’s going to happen on patrol today, and you really don’t want to find out, but Tommy and Maria took you in when you were at your lowest.
You literally owe them your life.
“Will you still cover?” His voice is soft. The corner of your lips twitch up into an almost smile, and you reach out to pat his arm.
“For you and Maria.”
And that’s how you found yourself in the stables at the crack of dawn, making sure the saddle on Shimmer was secure.
Heavy footsteps enter the stables, and you already know who it is. You hear another pair of footsteps not too far behind, and you don’t turn around until you hear Tommy call your name.
“Hey, I’m glad I caught you while you’re still here. Are you still good to come over to ours later and help Maria with the cupcakes?”
You hoist yourself up onto Shimmer and give Tommy a smile.
“‘Course.”
”You goin’ with anyone to do the dance?” Tommy asks, and Joel looks between you both. The Valentine’s dance is coming up tonight, and you told Maria you’d help with whatever she needed. You just didn’t plan on going.
“Nah,” you wave him off playfully. “I don’t have anyone to go with.”
“Oh c’mon, you oughta meet a handsome fella—or lady, I don’t discriminate—at the dance.”
Your eyes flicker to Joel for a split second only to find him already staring at you, before you look back to Tommy. You roll your lips into your mouth before shrugging with a small smile.
“Maybe.”
“Well just think about it,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. You give him a nod and your eyes drift to Joel one last time before moving Shimmer out of the stables and toward the gate.
You greet everyone at the gate before Joel makes his way beside you, and you’re all sent on your way. You silently follow Joel, an unspoken rule between you both that he’s obviously in charge. He doesn’t attempt conversation, and you know better than to poke the bear, but the tension is still palpable.
You make it to your assigned area before hopping off of Shimmer, shotgun tightly gripped in your hand.
“I’ll go scope around back,” you say, treading off before he can even reply.
You’re lost in thought as you look around, until you hear a branch break behind you. You swing around so fast that you almost hit Joel with your shotgun.
“Jesus, Sunshine, it’s just me,” he says, frowning.
“Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that, dammit! I could’ve shot you!”
“But you didn’t. You’re cute when you’re mad.” Amusement wraps around his words and he smirks at you, and you roll your eyes.
“So you don’t hate me, huh?” You ask, and you know it’s probably stupid to even take the conversation in that direction, but what else have you got to lose?
He’s quiet for a moment, looking beyond the trees as he sighs.
“No, Sunshine, I don’t hate you.”
You meet his gaze as you look up at him, his tall frame turning toward you as he walks closer, forcing you to step backwards until your back hits a wooden wall. He rests one hand beside your head and stares down at you.
You know he can easily see the effect he has on you, with the way your breathing picks up and the furrow between your brow. You can’t even meet his gaze, because you know if you do, you’re absolutely done for.
“Why’d you kick me out of your place the other day?”
You take a moment to try and collect yourself as best as you possibly can, but you know it’s no use.
“I didn’t want to get rejected. It’s already humiliating enough to admit that you drive me fucking crazy.”
“How so?” He leans down, nosing at your jaw before placing a kiss below your ear. You gasp, closing your eyes to relish the feeling of his lips on you.
You need them everywhere.
“Just—you—fuck,” you sigh. You can’t even get a coherent thought out with his proximity and intoxicating scent and warmth wrapping around you, welcoming you into something much more desirable.
His lips are at your ear.
“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers, and you bite back a moan as he presses his lips against your neck. “Does this look like rejection to you?”
“Joel—”
“Fuck, darlin’—drive you crazy? You have absolutely no idea what you do to me. Not a fuckin’ clue.”
“What do I do to you, Joel?” Your voice is meek as you stare up at him, trying to find your bearings.
He stares at you for what seems like a century, before leaning down so close that his nose brushes against yours. He hesitates, and you figure it's because he doesn’t want to push you if you don’t want to do this.
You’ve already made it abundantly clear, so you meet him the rest of the way and envelope your lips with his.
The feeling is cosmic—better than anything you’d ever expected. It’s the kind of kiss that sends tingles down your spine and makes your toes curl in delight.
You moan in desperation, tugging him closer to you by the sherpa lapel of his jacket, tangling your other free hand in his soft curls at the base of his skull.
He groans into your mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and you get lost in the art of kissing each other.
You don’t know how long you’re there pawing at each other like a couple of desperate, touch-deprived fools, but eventually you pull away because your lungs are fucking burning for air.
You pant against his lips, tightening your hold on his lapel.
“I wish you woulda let me say my piece instead of kicking me out,” Joel confesses. You lean your head back onto the building and sigh, looking up through the treeline.
“I’m sorry, Joel. I was just scared.”
“Ain’t a thing to be scared of, baby. As much as I’d love to continue this, I reckon it’s best we get goin’. They’re gonna wonder where we’re at.”
Your eyes flutter closed as you nod, pushing yourself off the building. You scope the area with him one more time and to your luck, no activity to report. Joel signs the log book and you both head back to Jackson in a comfortable silence, a total one-eighty from earlier.
You leave each other at the stables with not another word spoken, but a longing gaze that says everything you’re both feeling.
You head to Tommy and Maria’s house to help Maria with the cupcakes as promised, and you head home that night with the older Miller brother on your mind yet again.
By the time everyone is heading over to the dance, you’re all cozy in your oversized t-shirt and a book in your hand. You’ve just showered, and knowing you have off tomorrow from any and all work has you feeling extra relaxed.
A knock on your front door startles you though, and you dog-ear the page you’re reading and set the book on your bedside, but you hear heavy boots walking up the steps already. You scramble and grab your pistol from your nightstand, standing on your knees on your mattress as you hear the footsteps getting closer to your bedroom door.
“Sunshine?” Joel’s voice calls, and you sigh in relief as you switch the safety back on and toss your pistol onto your nightstand.
He’s in your doorway, leaning against the frame as he takes the image of you in. The t-shirt you’re wearing only falls to the middle of your thighs, and you’re not wearing anything but panties underneath.
The sight of him staring at you in such a hungry way has you gasping softly, and the feeling of arousal already sticks to your underwear.
You take this opportunity to stare at him, too. Your eyes roam slowly down his frame, and yet again you’re fantasizing about all of the things you want to do with him.
Your eyes halt halfway down his thigh—and you couldn’t help yourself.
You kept staring at the holster, perfectly wrapped around his thick thigh. The leather was a parcel of fine craftsmanship, made to fit him like a glove.
The gun in the holster was the cherry on top as it sat flush against his body, and you just couldn’t stop fucking staring.
Joel was waiting for you to pounce—challenging you, mocking you. He quirks his eyebrow up at you as he crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps pop.
You swallow thickly as you force your gaze to meet his eyes, which have so clearly darkened.
“Sweet girl,” Joel groans, “Keep starin’ at me and my thigh holster like that and I might just have to choke you out with it.”
Oh, fuck. You clench around nothing at the thought.
You nearly whimper as he crosses the room to get to your bed, towering over you once again. His large palm cups your cheek and you can’t help but look up at him like you’re mesmerized.
Maybe you really are.
He runs his thumb over your bottom lip before tugging it down, and that dangerous smirk is back on his lips.
“Tell me,” he says.
You’re so entranced by this man that it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up and process what he just said.
“What?”
“Tell me what you fantasize about.”
Your eyes dart to the pink comforter on your bed.
Joel tsks and shakes his head, hand moving to your jaw so you have to look up at him.
“Tell me, baby. I want to give it to you.”
He lets go of your jaw and sits down next to you on the bed, tugging you onto him so you’re straddling his thigh.
You look down at his denim-clad leg, biting your lip before Joel ruts you forward.
“Stare at my thighs so goddamn much you might as well ride it, hm?” He strokes the back of your head, and your eyebrows furrow at the delicious friction.
You nod. “This was one of the things,” you say.
“I know, baby. Use me. Wanna see you get off by pleasin’ yourself on me.”
You sharply inhale. He moves his hands down to your thighs, pushing the t-shirt up to your hips before dipping one hand between your legs. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and hums as he rubs your aching pussy through the fabric of your underwear.
“Fuckin’ soaked already, Sunshine. Can’t believe I really do this to you.”
“Why’s it so hard to believe?” You ask, testing the waters by rutting your hips forward once. You softly moan at the feeling, and Joel moves his hands to settle on your hips.
“‘Cus, I’m the mean grumpy ol’ bastard of the town and you’re the sweet, innocent happy woman that gets on well with everyone.”
You laugh at that, moving your hands to his shoulders to give them a squeeze. You quirk a playful brow at him before rutting your hips once more.
“Who said I was innocent?”
You tilt your head, and his eyes get impossibly darker. Joel hums, considering you for a second.
“I like it rough, baby, so you gotta tell me if anythin’ I do is too much.”
You clench around nothing once again, feeling your arousal seep down your thighs. The thought of him being rough with you sends you over the fucking moon.
“Will do, cowboy.”
The corner of his mouth tilts into an almost smile, and he leans in to kiss you with the same hunger from earlier. It’s easy to follow his lead, as your hands find his curls once more and you start to rut your hips.
Your feet barely touch the ground like this, but ever the gentleman Joel is, he helps you by moving your hips back and forth with his hands at your hips. You’re panting his name and his face is buried in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping the skin there.
“That’s it, there you go,” he coos. “Wish you can see how pretty you look gettin’ off on me. Fuckin’ stunner you are.”
You inhale sharply and squeeze your eyes shut, tossing your head back between your shoulders. Joel dips his head down and captures a clothed nipple into his mouth, and you let out a loud whine.
It’s almost too much, with the delicious pressure on your aching clit, hands roaming over your hot skin and the expertise of his mouth.
You feel the white-hot sensation shoot through you, and you bow your back as your orgasm blindsides you and forcefully crashes through you.
“Joel!” You gasp his name as he brings his hand down between your legs, cupping your sex and rubbing you through the thin fabric before he tosses you onto the bed.
You’re staring at your ceiling trying to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you two seconds to think before he’s on top of you. His lips clash with yours, all teeth and tongue and desperation, before he’s tugging off your underwear and shirt to fling them across your bedroom behind him.
You sit up on your elbows as you stare at him, watching him as he slowly unbuttons his flannel, tossing it on the floor with your clothes.
His tanned skin glows in the sunset through your windows, and the shadows carve out the muscles in his biceps perfectly. He looks ethereal like this, towering over you with a hungry, insatiable stare.
He unstraps his thigh holster from himself, sliding the gun across the floor and tossing the holster onto the bed next to you.
He hovers over you once again, smirking down at you as he looks at the pretty, glistening mess between your legs.
He wraps his arms around your thighs and he drags you toward the edge of the bed, flipping you over before harshly smacking your ass.
You suck in a breath at the sting and he’s hungrily watching the way you clench around nothing.
“Oh you like that, huh pretty girl?” He asks, tone nothing short of dark and teasing.
You don’t even hesitate.
“Fuck, yes, Joel.”
His calloused hands massage your ass, giving it another smack before you hear shuffling behind you. You turn your head to see that he’s kneeling behind you, and he looks right into your eyes as he spits on your pussy. You moan at the sight, and he grabs your thighs before burying his face in your cunt.
“Oh fuck,” you cry, relishing in the feeling of his tongue working your slick, aching core so expertly.
Each flick of his tongue has purpose, so fluidly blending together that it feels like a fucking composer conducting an orchestra.
Your body is a violin, a piano, a flute.
A symphony waiting to reach crescendo.
His tongue glides and prods and his mouth eats you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have, and you’re grabbing onto your pretty pink comforter for dear life as you gasp and moan his name louder and louder with each pass, each flick.
Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as his tongue sinks into your warmth, fucking you for a brief few seconds before traveling upward toward your asshole.
He stays there, licking and kissing your tight little hole, going to a place nobody ever has before.
You reach back and thread your fingers through his hair, forcing his face into your flesh as he greedily licks you up. He moves his tongue back down to your pussy, drinking your arousal like you’re the finest nectar on Earth.
Hell, to him, maybe you are.
That devastating bliss curls around you and your insides once more, and when Joel wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, you’re absolutely done for.
You scream his name like a prayer on Sunday, tears forming in your waterline as this orgasm rips through you more forcefully than the last. You’re quivering by the time he stands up straight again.
“I could eat that sweet little pussy for the rest of my God-given life,” he says, and you look back at him with a weak half smile.
You’re already so fucked out, but you know he isn’t done with you yet. Your eyes move down to the bulge in his jeans, and the outline of him makes your mouth water.
“Let me suck your dick,” you say, and Joel chuckles before leaning down to give you a wet, you-flavored kiss.
“Another time, baby. Wanna fuck you first.”
It’s like your body answers to his call each and every time, so willing and ready for him.
“Wanna see stars, Joel.”
“And stars you’ll see, sweet girl.”
He leans down to kiss your hair before ridding himself of his jeans and boxers, erection springing free.
He groans at the newfound freedom, and you can see his pre-cum beaded at his tip.
You can’t help yourself—you reach over and swipe your thumb over it, popping your finger into your mouth with a satisfied hum as the salty flavor of him dances on your tongue.
“Why do I have a feelin’ you enjoy giving head?”
You quirk a brow at him. “You wanna find out?”
He laughs. It’s a sweet, rare sound. It’s one you want to capture in a jar to keep and cherish forever.
“Later, baby. I wanna make you feel good tonight.”
You’re about to say you already have—twice, in fact, but he’s moving behind you before you can get the words out. He rubs your ass one more time before spreading you open.
You can tell he admires the view with the appreciative hum that evades his throat.
“You sure you wanna do this? You can still back out, y’know.”
You look back at him, batting your lashes twice. He gets the message.
His mouth quirks up and he swipes his head through your folds, catching onto your clit. You whine at the feeling, and Joel smacks your ass once more for good measure.
He settles himself at your entrance and pushes into you slowly, letting you take him inch by inch until he’s reached the hilt.
His hips are flush against your ass, and he’s so fucking large and heavy inside you that it lights your body aflame with pure pleasure.
“Joel,” you cry, and Joel strokes your back while he allows you time to get used to the sting, the delicious stretch.
The feeling is indescribable, being so full like this, let alone with the man you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks now.
“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey. She’s takin’ this cock so well,” he praises.
You moan at his words, finally squeezing the words out of your throat. “Move, please.”
So he does.
He starts off slow at first, testing the waters, before completely pistoning into you. He knocks the breath out of you, and it’s almost too much, but you fucking love it.
You haven’t felt this type of bliss in your life, well, ever, and Joel is giving it to you on the first go of him fucking you.
He slows his hips down before he grabs the thigh holder and dangles it in your vision, and you look back at him with what had to be the most pathetic pleaful look.
“You still want this?” He asks, and you nod.
“Words, baby. Need to hear you say it.”
“God, fuck! Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes,” you cry. “Please, Joel. Need you to—fuck—need you to choke me out. Need it rougher. Need you,”
“Fuck, baby, you’re a goddamn dream,” he grits. “Tap my thigh twice n’ hard if you need me to stop.”
“Okay,” you murmur.
He wraps the leather strap around your throat, buckling it securely before giving it a soft tug.
“This feel okay?”
You nod, and he gives you a warning look.
Words.
“Yes, Joel. ‘S perfect.”
He pulls at the strap, and it squeezes the sides of your throat as he resumes fucking you.
He’s pounding into you relentlessly and a deep, guttural groan leaves his chest and the sound scrapes low in your belly. It makes your pussy flutter around his cock, squeezing him so tight that his hips stutter.
“Fuckin’ squeezin’ me, baby. She loves this cock, don’t she?”
You whine and nod, clawing at the comforter as he pulls the strap tighter. Your breathing becomes more shallow and your vision starts to go black around the edges.
You’re starting to see the stars Joel promised you.
Joel hears that your little noises he loves oh-so-much have ceased, so he lets up on the strap. You gulp in a big breath of air, looking back at him to give him a wicked smile.
He almost cums at the sight.
“Reckon you like it rough, too.”
You hum in agreement, reaching between your legs to cup his balls. He nearly chokes on a moan at the feeling of you beginning to massage him, and he slaps your ass before pounding into you once again.
He pulls on the strap again, but this time he leans down so his lips are at your ear.
“Takin’ this cock like you were made for it, honey.”
He kisses your neck and moves his lips down between your shoulder blades, nipping at your skin before slinking a hand between your thighs, finding your clit in one perfect move.
You want to scream and cry his name, but it’s nearly impossible with the restriction on your throat. Your vision blurs black at the edges again and before you know it, your third orgasm of the night is tearing you apart from the inside out. A silent scream evades you.
You’ve reached the crescendo.
You’re convulsing around him, and you think he’s saying something like there you go, good girl, but the blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you can barely even register his voice. You barely even feel him take off the holster from around your neck, too.
Everything blurs together in bliss and dazzling stars and by the time you come to, Joel is grunting words you can finally hear.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me?”
You do your best to push yourself away from him and clamber onto your knees, right in front of him.
You give him a satiated smile, all hooded eyes and a fucked out appearance that has him losing it.
He tosses his head back as he pumps himself a few more times before his cum paints itself across your chest and lower half of your face.
You’re truly a sight to behold—the look on Joel’s face when his gaze meets yours again says it all.
He leans down and cups your face, kissing your forehead.
“I’ll be right back,” he says.
You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, sitting down on your bed again before Joel is back with a wet washcloth in his hand. He coaxes you to lay back against your pillows as he wipes you down gently.
The stark contrast of the softness he’s exuding now versus when he fucked your brains out is quite an amusing thing, but appreciated nonetheless.
He tosses the washcloth in your hamper after he’s finished, slipping his boxers back on before climbing into bed with you.
He tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze, and his thumb traces over the side of your face.
“You okay?” He asks, voice gentle and full of worry.
“More than okay,” you reassure him. Your limbs feel like goo and you can barely keep your eyes open, but you’re floating on cloud nine.
You curl into him and he kisses your forehead once again, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close.
“Listen, Sunshine. I ain’t really a flowers type ‘a guy,” he starts, and you look up at him again.
Your heart sinks a little and you’re sure Joel can see your face deflate, so he quickly follows up on his previous words.
“But baby, for you, I’d pick out any one you wanted.”
And you know that’s his way of saying he’s all in. You let his words marinate for a minute before kissing his chest, right above the steady beat of his heart.
“Even the white roses from Maria’s garden?” You tease him, knowing those flowers are her prized possession.
He laughs again, and without a beat, leans his face down to yours with such an incandescently happy smile that his usual frown seems something so foreign to you.
“Even those.”
a/n (pt 2): huge thanks to @ozarkthedog for encouraging me and letting me ramble about this fic.
also, i can’t help but make joel a sappy motherfucker too. he’s a sappy kinky motherfucker.
sorry for any mistakes. this wasn’t revised that well.
hope y’all enjoyed tho.
dividers by @saradika-graphics
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller imagines#joel miller tlou#grumpy joel#game joel miller#joel miller game#the last of us fanfiction
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i want to worship his body, every part of him, i’d make him lie in bed, let him finger me while i lick, bite and suck his tummy, making sure i’ve tasted every part of it, while his other hand is guiding my head to his cock and make me gag on it <3
#joel miller#joel miller pedro pascal#joel the last of us#the last of us#pedro pascal#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller smut#old men#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel smut#game joel miller#soft joel miller#tlou fic#older man younger woman#oldermen#age g4p#daddy k!nk#smut#pascalispunk#tlou fanfiction
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save a horse
cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader
summary: what started as a frustrating, never-ending rivalry with Joel Miller—his reckless riding, his cocky smirks, his infuriating ability to get under your skin—turned into something else entirely. Something you couldn’t control, couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried. Because beneath all the fighting, the competition, and the stubborn pride, there was heat. And once you gave in to it, there was no turning back.
a/n: “rivals” to lovers, banterrr, cocky Joel, suggestive scenes, heavy kissing, Joel calls reader princess and darlin’
joel miller masterlist
There’s a fine line between love and hate, and Joel Miller lived on the other side of that line—just far enough to keep me from crossing it. Every time I saw him, it felt like that line was being tested, stretched tighter and tighter, as if we were both stuck in some kind of wild tug-of-war.
I had my life all planned out. The pristine, polished world of show jumping and barrel racing was where I thrived. Clean, controlled, the kind of competition where technique and precision mattered more than the mess. I rode with grace and poise—everything about me screamed class and focus.
Then there was Joel.
Joel was the kind of cowboy who thrived in the dirt. The rougher, the better. He was known for his wild, reckless rides—bareback bronc riding, calf roping, and the like. He didn’t care about the mess. He thrived on it. He loved the mud, the sweat, the adrenaline of it all. He reveled in the chaos, and I couldn’t stand it.
We met at a local rodeo competition one fateful evening. I was there for the barrel race, wearing my pristine boots and jacket, my hair perfectly styled beneath my hat. Joel was competing in the rough stock event, his face covered in dust and grit, his clothes stained with sweat. He had the audacity to walk past my stall just as I was prepping my horse.
“Hope you’re not planning on getting too dirty in that competition,” he smirked, his voice low and mocking. “This ain’t your kind of rodeo, y/n.”
I shot him a sharp look, barely containing my irritation. “I don’t think I asked for your opinion, Joel.”
He chuckled, leaning in a little closer, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’re a little uptight, aren’t you? I’d hate to see you get all flustered in the dirt. You’ll never make it through the next round.”
I could feel my pulse quicken with a mix of anger and something else—something I definitely didn’t want to acknowledge. “Maybe you should stick to your rough events. Let the classy riders handle the rest.”
He leaned back, eyes narrowing, his lips curling into a smirk. “Classy, huh? Well, you better hope you can handle a real challenge when it comes your way.”
I was ready to snap back, but I didn’t have time. The announcer called for the next round, and I needed to focus. I shot him a glare before walking away, but I could feel his gaze on me the entire time.
The competition was intense. Every part of me focused on executing each turn, each jump, with perfection. I had trained for years, and it paid off. My time in the barrel race was top-notch—clean, precise, with every second of the run perfectly controlled.
But as I crossed the finish line and the crowd erupted in applause, I spotted him again. Joel was in the middle of his calf roping event, the exact opposite of what I’d just done. His horse was galloping full speed toward a runaway steer, and I couldn’t help but watch. He was all muscle and grit, moving with an ease that looked almost reckless. His rope flew through the air, securing the steer in one fluid motion, and the crowd went wild.
I hated that it was impressive. I hated that it made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the competition.
Afterward, I found myself near the stables, cooling down my horse when Joel appeared again, this time covered in more dirt than ever. His shirt was half undone, his hair sticking out in every direction.
“You know,” he said, walking up to me, “you were pretty impressive out there.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying to remain composed. “You’re just trying to be nice because you lost.”
He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent an unexpected shiver through me. “I didn’t lose. But I’ll admit, you made it look easy.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Well, I don’t roll around in the dirt for a living.”
Joel’s eyes glinted. “I’ve never been afraid to get dirty. Guess that’s what makes me better at what I do.”
I looked him up and down, shaking my head. “You’re just a mess, Joel. There’s no finesse in what you do. It’s all chaos.”
“Chaos is how things get done,” he said, stepping closer. “Everything has to be perfect for you though, doesn’t it?”
“That’s what makes me a winner.”
He cocked his head to the side, his lips twisting into a grin that made my stomach twist in a way I couldn’t control. “Funny. I think we both know it’s not always about perfection.”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool. “Maybe. But at least I’m not playing around with danger and risk every second. I’d rather be classy than reckless.”
Joel’s smile faltered, and for a second, I thought he might actually take offense. But then he leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “You know, y/n, maybe one day, I’ll show you how much fun it can be to throw caution to the wind. You might surprise yourself.”
I shook my head, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest. “Don’t hold your breath, Miller.”
For a moment, we just stood there, the tension between us palpable. The air crackled with something that wasn’t hate, but it wasn’t quite attraction either. It was something in between, something that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
“Alright, princess,” Joel said, his voice softer this time. “You keep riding your pretty little circles. I’ll keep riding the rough stuff. But don’t forget—when you’re ready for a real challenge, you know where to find me.”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned, leading my horse back to the stables, trying to ignore the heat in my cheeks and the pulse of excitement that had nothing to do with the competition.
Joel Miller was chaos. He was everything I wasn’t. But somehow, despite myself, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were both waiting for the inevitable clash. And when it came, it was going to be one hell of a ride.

I don’t know what it was about Joel Miller that set my blood boiling—maybe it was the way he always had to have the last word, or maybe it was the fact that he rode like a reckless idiot and still managed to win. Whatever it was, I couldn’t stand him.
And yet, I couldn’t seem to avoid him either.
“Careful, princess,” Joel drawled one afternoon as I tightened Maple’s saddle before practice. “Wouldn’t want you breakin’ a nail before your big fancy event.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose, forcing myself to keep my focus on the leather strap in my hands. “And I wouldn’t want you falling off your horse and bruising that oversized ego of yours,” I shot back sweetly.
Joel smirked, leaning against the stall with that insufferable confidence. “Darlin’, I don’t fall.”
I finally turned to look at him, crossing my arms. “No, but you sure like to run your mouth.”
He grinned. “And you sure like to pretend you don’t like it.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You’re delusional.”
“Yeah? Then why do you always find me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You find me, Miller.”
He took a step closer, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Right. And you’re always right here, ready to argue.”
I hated that he was right. I hated that he knew exactly how to get under my skin, knew exactly what buttons to push.
And worst of all, I hated that I liked it.
Every run-in with Joel was like this—an endless cycle of back-and-forths, teasing jabs that always left me flushed, irritated, and on edge. He was rough and reckless, all dirt and sweat and wild confidence, while I was polished, precise, and disciplined. We weren’t supposed to mix.
But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering beneath every argument, every too-long glance, every time he leaned in just a little too close, like he was daring me to cross that line.
And maybe, just maybe, I was getting closer to doing exactly that.
—
The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the rodeo grounds, the smell of dirt and hay thick in the air. Most of the competitors were unwinding before the next round, tending to their horses or grabbing something to eat.
I had been brushing down Maple when I heard a small voice nearby.
“Can I pet him?”
I turned, curiosity piqued, and spotted a little boy standing a few feet away from Joel and his horse, Ford. The kid couldn’t have been older than six, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, rocking on his heels like he was nervous.
Joel, who had been adjusting Ford’s saddle, turned to look at him.
For a second, I expected him to wave the kid off. He wasn’t exactly known for being warm.
But instead, Joel crouched down to his level, resting his forearm on his knee. “Yeah? You like horses?”
The boy nodded eagerly. “He’s big.”
Joel chuckled. “Yeah, he is.” He reached up, giving Ford a firm pat on the neck. “But he’s a good boy. You wanna sit on him?”
The kid’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Joel nodded. “C’mon.”
The boy practically bounced in excitement as Joel lifted him up with ease, settling him gently on the saddle. He kept a firm hand on the kid’s back, making sure he was steady, while Ford stood still, completely unfazed.
The boy grinned wide, gripping the horn of the saddle like he was ready to take off. “I’m a cowboy now!”
Joel chuckled, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it. “That’s right, little man.”
And damn it if my heart didn’t melt right there.
I had seen Joel Miller in plenty of ways—cocky, infuriating, reckless.
But this?
This was new.
He was gentle. Patient. And watching him interact with that kid, making his whole day with nothing more than a simple ride, did something to me that I really didn’t want to think too hard about.
I must’ve been staring too long because suddenly, Joel’s eyes flicked up and locked onto mine.
The smirk came back instantly, like he could sense the effect he had on me. “What?”
I rolled my eyes, quickly turning back to Maple. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t look like nothing.”
“Shut up, Miller.”
But as much as I tried to ignore it, the image of Joel smiling up at that kid, looking so damn soft, was burned into my mind.
And for once, I didn’t hate it.
—
The day was winding down, the sun sinking lower in the sky, and the arena was quiet except for the faint rustling of hooves and the occasional call from the crowd. The final competition was just around the corner, and I was out on the practice field, determined to get in some last-minute work before everything went down tomorrow. Maple was calm as always, and I was focused, running the barrels with precision and grace. Every turn was tight, every motion measured. I was in control, just like I always was.
But the world has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it.
I had just completed my last run when I heard a sudden, sharp sound from the far side of the arena. At first, I didn’t think much of it—until I saw the flash of a calf breaking through the fencing, charging across the field at full speed, clearly startled and out of control.
I instinctively pulled on Maple’s reins, trying to guide her out of the way, but she was spooked, her head shooting up as she began to buck and rear. The calf was moving fast, its hooves pounding the earth, and Maple, already skittish, couldn’t seem to calm down.
“Maple, whoa, easy girl!” I shouted, trying to get her back under control, but the harder I tried, the more she panicked. I was losing my grip, my heart racing as I struggled to hold on. The cow was heading straight for us now, and Maple was getting more and more frantic.
“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, pulling harder on the reins, but nothing worked. I was completely out of control, the adrenaline surging in my veins as Maple bolted, jerking me to the side. I could feel the ground beneath me shift, my grip slipping, and then—without warning—Maple’s leg caught on something, and she pitched forward, throwing me off.
I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs as pain shot through my back and shoulder. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. I tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t respond, the pain paralyzing me as I gasped for air.
“Y/n!”
I heard a voice—Joel’s voice—shouting through the haze.
Before I could even react, I felt the ground shift beside me. Joel was there, dismounting Ford and rushing over to me, his face a mask of concern, his eyes wild.
“Stay still,” he said, his voice rough as he kneeled beside me. His hands hovered over me, unsure of where to touch, and I saw the rare flicker of concern in his usually confident gaze.
I tried to push myself up, the pain from my shoulder shooting through me. “I’m fine,” I lied, gritting my teeth. “I don’t need your help.”
Joel’s expression darkened, and his hands moved to my shoulders, gently forcing me back down onto the ground. “Don’t move. You’re not fine.”
I glared at him, the frustration bubbling up again. “I said I’m fine, Joel. Just… just go away.”
“Please just stop being so damn stubborn.” His voice was harsh, almost angry, but not with me—more with the situation, with how I was refusing help when I clearly needed it. He wasn’t joking now. “I’m just trying to help you.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the pain in my shoulder was too much, and I winced, the sharp sting cutting off my words. My breathing was labored now, my heart still pounding in my chest from the chaos of the moment. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other, me lying in the dirt, Joel kneeling beside me, both of us breathing hard from the rush of adrenaline.
“Look, I don’t need you playing the hero,” I managed to mutter, trying to sit up again, but Joel gently pushed me back down.
“I’m not playing anything, y/n. You can’t even move. I’m not going to leave you out here alone just because you’ve got too much pride to admit you’re hurt,” he said, his tone firm, but underneath, I could hear the edge of concern. “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’ll drag you out of here myself.”
I glared at him, but the frustration I felt earlier melted into something else—a mix of embarrassment and anger. He wasn’t wrong. I had to admit, I had overestimated myself, and now I was paying the price.
“Fine,” I muttered, still struggling to sit up, but feeling the weight of the pain in my body. I could barely lift my arm without it aching. “I guess you’re right. But don’t think I’m going to thank you for it.”
Joel raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk returning, but it wasn’t as cocky as it usually was. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just making sure you don’t make it worse by being stubborn.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but another wave of pain shot through my shoulder, making my breath catch. I grimaced, closing my eyes. “I’m not stubborn,” I managed to mutter, my voice strained. “I just don’t like being treated like I can’t handle things.”
Joel’s expression softened, just slightly, and for a moment, I saw something else in his eyes—something genuine, not the usual teasing or arrogance. “I get it. But sometimes you need help. And it’s okay to accept it.”
I swallowed hard, the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck, but I couldn’t argue with him. I was hurt. I couldn’t handle everything on my own, and right now, I really did need him.
“Just help me up,” I finally muttered, my voice quiet, but there was a hint of surrender in it now.
Joel didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, carefully pulling me into a sitting position, his hand firm on my back as he steadied me. “Easy,” he said, his voice soft now. “We’ll get you back to the stables and make sure you’re okay.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, the rush of the competition, the pain, and Joel’s unexpected calm all mixing together in a way I wasn’t sure how to process. I hated needing help. I hated showing weakness, especially in front of someone like Joel. But as he gently helped me up and guided me back to safety, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry anymore.
Maybe, for once, it was okay to let someone else take charge. Even if that someone was Joel.
Joel guided me carefully back toward the stables, his arm lightly supporting my back as I limped along beside him. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my shoulder, and I was starting to realize just how badly I had underestimated the situation. Maple had finally calmed down, now tied to the post a few yards away, but my head was still reeling from the chaos, the fear, and the sharp ache that spread from my shoulder down my side.
Joel’s grip on me was steady, strong, but not intrusive—just enough to keep me from stumbling. He kept his pace slow, making sure I could keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by a seriousness that felt oddly comforting in the midst of everything.
When we reached the stables, he led me to a bench just outside, carefully helping me sit. His hand lingered on my shoulder for a moment, the touch gentle yet reassuring. I looked up at him, surprised by how quiet he was. Usually, he would’ve been making some sarcastic comment or teasing me for getting hurt, but now he seemed… concerned. In a way I hadn’t expected.
“Stay put,” he said, his voice softer than usual as he crouched down to inspect my shoulder. “I’m going to grab the first aid kit. You’ll be fine.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure about that. The pain had dulled a bit since I sat down, but it still throbbed with every movement. I wanted to argue, to tell him I could take care of myself, but at this point, it seemed pointless. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was stubborn just to prove some point.
Joel disappeared into the nearby barn and returned a few minutes later with a first aid kit in hand. He knelt down in front of me, his eyes scanning my shoulder, and I could see him evaluating the injury carefully. There was no arrogance now, no cocky humor. He was all business.
“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” he muttered, gently lifting my arm to get a better look at the injury.
I winced, trying not to flinch, but the pain was undeniable. “It’s nothing,” I said, forcing my voice to sound dismissive. “Just a little bruise. I’ll be fine.”
Joel didn’t buy it. “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything. This could be worse than it looks.” He carefully started cleaning the area around the bruise, his touch light but deliberate, making sure he didn’t aggravate the injury. “You always act like you don’t need anyone’s help. But it’s okay to admit when you’re in trouble.”
I gritted my teeth at his words, but there was no edge to his tone—just quiet honesty. I didn’t want to admit that he was right, that maybe I had been pushing myself too hard lately, that maybe I had been too proud to ask for help. But it was hard to keep up the act when he was standing there, so close, so damn calm.
“I don’t need a lecture, Joel,” I muttered, trying to shift my position slightly.
His hand paused as he looked up at me, his eyes catching mine. “I’m not lecturing you. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t make it worse. You can’t keep pretending like you’re invincible. You’re not.”
The words hung in the air between us, and for the first time, I felt a wave of vulnerability wash over me. I didn’t want to feel like this. I didn’t want to admit that maybe I had been running on empty for far too long, that maybe I didn’t have it all figured out. Not with him, not with anyone.
“You’re right,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know what happened back there. It’s like I lost control for a second.”
Joel didn’t respond immediately. He finished cleaning the cut and then started wrapping it in gauze, his movements methodical and practiced. I had expected him to make some quip, to tease me for showing weakness, but instead, he was quiet—focused.
When he finished, he finally looked up, his expression softer now. “It happens to the best of us. You got scared, and that’s okay. But you don’t have to do this alone, y/n.”
I met his gaze, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach. His sincerity was something I hadn’t expected, and it threw me off more than I cared to admit.
For a long moment, neither of us said anything. The only sound was the quiet rustling of the wind and the distant hum of the rodeo grounds. I could feel the tension between us, still hanging in the air, but now there was something different about it—something that wasn’t just about competing, or winning, or proving who was stronger.
“Thanks,” I said, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. “I didn’t expect you to… actually help.”
Joel gave me a dry chuckle, sitting back on his heels. “Don’t go thinking this means I’ve gone soft, darlin’. I’m still gonna beat you tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help but smile, the familiar banter easing the weight of the moment. “You’re still insufferable, you know that?”
His grin returned, that cocky edge creeping back into his voice. “And you’re still stubborn. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. Makes the competition interesting.”
I shook my head, but this time, there was no animosity behind it. Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something—maybe even gratitude—for the way he’d handled this.
“Just don’t think you’re getting an easy win,” I shot back, feeling a hint of the old spark return. “I’m coming for you.”
Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, his eyes glinting with the usual challenge. “Bring it on. I’ve been waiting for you to step it up.”
For a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness between us, the rivalry still there, but tempered by something new. Something I didn’t quite understand, but I was starting to admit I didn’t mind.
Joel stood up, offering me a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the bed and breakfast and take it easy for the rest of the night. You’ve got a competition to win tomorrow.”
I hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him help me up. The steady warmth of his grip was comforting, and I couldn’t ignore the way my pulse quickened with his touch. There was something about Joel—something that pushed all my buttons, something that made me want to keep fighting and keep running, but also, maybe, something that made me want to stay.
I brushed off the thought, refusing to let it linger as I walked beside him back to the stables. There was still a competition to prepare for, after all, and tomorrow, I’d make sure he knew that I wasn’t going down without a fight.

The morning buzzed with the smell of fresh coffee and bacon as I walked into the small dining room of the bed and breakfast. Most of the rodeo crowd was already there, gathered around wooden tables, chatting between bites of biscuits and gravy.
Still half-asleep, I grabbed the nearest cowboy hat from the rack by the door and plopped it onto my head without thinking.
I didn’t realize my mistake until I felt the weight of a stare burning into me.
Slowly, I looked up—right into the amused eyes of Joel.
He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, that damn smirk creeping onto his face. “Mornin’, princess.”
I blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Joel tapped his fingers on the table, clearly enjoying himself. “That your hat?”
I frowned, reaching up to tug it down more firmly—only to freeze when I realized it wasn’t mine.
It was his.
I had grabbed Joel’s hat.
Before I could rip it off my head, he tilted his head, voice dropping just enough for only me to hear. “You know what they say…” His smirk turned downright sinful. “Wear the hat—“
“Don’t.” I yanked the hat off my head and smacked it against his chest before he could finish that sentence.
Joel just chuckled, gripping the hat with ease, his fingers brushing mine for a split second longer than necessary. “Hey, no need to be shy about it. Could’ve just told me you wanted—”
“Don’t even start.” I huffed, grabbing a cup of coffee and heading straight for the other side of the room, ignoring the way my face burned.
“Hey, wait,” Joel called after me, and despite every bone in my body telling me to keep walking, I paused.
His voice was quieter now, a little more serious. “How’s your shoulder?”
I blinked, surprised. “What?”
“Your shoulder,” he repeated, leaning forward with that same familiar, cocky grin, but his eyes—there was something softer there. “Y’know, after that little run-in with the calf yesterday. Didn’t want you to use it as an excuse when I beat you later.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the unexpected flutter in my chest. “It’s fine. Barely hurts.” I squared my shoulders just to prove the point. “And I’m still competing, so don’t get your hopes up.”
Joel chuckled, tipping his hat. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”
Even with my back turned, I could feel his eyes on me.
And worse?
I wasn’t sure I hated it.
Competition day always had a certain energy to it—electric, tense, buzzing with anticipation. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the rodeo grounds, the air thick with the scent of dust, horses, and sweat. The crowd was already gathering, and the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena, calling out the lineup for the day’s events.
I should have been focused. I needed to be focused. But, of course, Joel was making that impossible.
“You nervous, princess?” His voice came from behind me, slow and smug as I checked Maple’s saddle one last time.
I exhaled, gripping the leather a little tighter before turning to face him. “Not in the slightest.”
Joel grinned, standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, looking like he hadn’t lost a wink of sleep over today’s competition. Unlike me, he didn’t believe in overpreparing or second-guessing. He just rode, wild and free, as if the rules didn’t apply to him.
“You sure?” he pressed, tilting his head. “You’ve been triple-checking that saddle for the last five minutes.”
“Maybe I just like to be thorough,” I shot back.
Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, walked up just in time to witness our usual back-and-forth. He clapped Joel on the shoulder, shaking his head with a grin. “Man, do y’all ever stop?”
“Nope,” said another voice—Kailen, my best friend, who had been standing nearby, watching with barely concealed amusement. She raised a brow at me. “You know, for two people who claim to hate each other, you sure spend a lot of time talking.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the announcer’s voice rang through the speakers, calling up the tie-down roping competitors—Joel’s event.
Joel shot me a wink. “Guess we’ll have to finish this conversation later.”
“Can’t wait,” I muttered as he strolled off, exuding nothing but confidence.

Joel went first. I watched from the sidelines as he rode out with Ford, moving like they were one body. He chased down the calf, lassoed it with effortless precision, and leapt from his saddle in one fluid motion.
The crowd roared as he finished his tie-down in record time, standing back with that damn smug expression as if he knew he was the best.
Tommy whistled from beside me. “Damn, he’s gonna be impossible to deal with after that one.”
Kailen nudged me. “You good?”
I forced myself to unclench my fists. “Fine.”
I wasn’t.
Because the second Joel met my gaze from across the arena, his smirk turning into something slower, something challenging, I felt my stomach flip in a way I really didn’t need before my own event.
It was my turn.
The crowd was still buzzing from Joel’s performance, but I didn’t let it distract me. I mounted Maple, adjusting my grip on the reins as we trotted into the arena.
I took a breath. Blocked out the noise. Focused.
Then, at the sound of the buzzer, we flew.
Maple moved with power and grace, muscles coiling and releasing as we weaved around the barrels with razor-sharp precision. The turns were tight, the speed unmatched. Every movement was calculated, controlled—until the last barrel.
Just as I rounded it, I saw a blur of movement from the corner of my eye. Something—someone—was too close to the fence. Maple spooked, just a fraction of a second’s hesitation, but it was enough to cost me.
We crossed the finish line fast, but not fast enough.
I let out a breath, my heart hammering as I slowed Maple to a trot.
Second place.
Not first.
Not him.
As I dismounted, frustration burned in my chest. I had been so close.
“Hell of a ride,” Joel’s voice came from behind me, and I turned to find him standing there, Ford’s reins in hand, watching me with that unreadable expression. “Shame about that last turn, though.”
I gritted my teeth, yanking off my riding gloves.
“What?” His lips twitched. “I’m just sayin’—”
“You’re gloating.”
Joel stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You mad ‘cause you lost, or mad ‘cause you lost to me?”
I shot him a glare, my skin still buzzing from the adrenaline. From the way he was looking at me. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re predictable,” he murmured, his eyes flickering down to my lips before meeting my gaze again. “Always so desperate to be perfect. Always so scared to just let go.”
I hated that he could see through me. Hated that he knew how much this got under my skin.
But most of all?
I hated how much I wanted him to kiss me right then and there.
“Y/n!” Kailen called, jogging up before I could say—or do—something stupid.
I tore my eyes away from Joel, breathing out sharply. “Coming.”
Joel leaned in just a little, voice low in my ear. “We’re not done, darlin’.”
I turned my head, meeting his gaze with a challenge of my own. “Not even close.”
The rodeo wrapped up as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everything in a hazy golden glow. The smell of sweat, dust, and leather lingered in the air as competitors packed up for the night, some celebrating, some nursing bruised egos.
I should have been happy with second place. It was a solid run, and I knew Maple and I had given it everything. But standing there watching Joel grin and drink a beer like he hadn’t just walked away with a damn trophy made my blood boil.
And worse? It made something else simmer beneath my skin.
Kailen nudged my side, her gaze flicking between me and Joel, who was leaning against the fence with Tommy, talking and laughing. “You look like you either want to murder him or fuck him.”
I scoffed. “Try murder.”
“Sure,” she said, dragging out the word like she didn’t believe me for a second. “You gonna pretend you weren’t watching him the whole time?”
I turned sharply toward her. “I was not—”
“You totally were.” She smirked. “And he knows it.”
I glanced back at Joel, and sure enough, his eyes were already on me, like he’d been waiting for me to look. The second our gazes met, he lifted his beer bottle slightly, that damn smirk never leaving his face.
Cocky asshole.
I tore my gaze away and turned to Kailen. “I need a drink.”
She grinned. “Now that I can help with.”

Later that night, most of the rodeo crowd had gathered around a bonfire outside the bed and breakfast. Someone had set up speakers playing old country music, and the smell of barbecue mixed with the smoke from the fire.
I sat on a hay bale, nursing a beer, trying to shake the way Joel had been in my head all damn day.
But of course, he had to make it worse.
“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Joel’s voice drawled from behind me.
I exhaled slowly before turning to look at him. “Why? Thought I’d be too busy polishing my second-place ribbon?”
Joel chuckled, taking the spot next to me like he belonged there. “Nah. Just figured you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me after today.”
I scoffed, taking a sip of my beer. “I don’t.”
“Yet, here you are.”
I turned to him, narrowing my eyes.
He leaned back, propping an arm on the hay bale, looking so damn relaxed it made me want to shove him off. “You always this fun at parties?”
I set my drink down and faced him fully. “What is it you want?”
He studied me for a second, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he shrugged. “Just wonderin’ how long you’re gonna pretend you don’t feel this.”
My breath caught, but I covered it with a laugh. “Feel what?”
Joel tilted his head, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before flicking back to my eyes. “This,” he said, voice lower now. “The thing between us.”
I swallowed, suddenly hating how warm the fire felt against my skin. “There is no thing.”
Joel just smirked, like he could see right through me. “Right.”
The tension was thick—too thick.
I should have left, should have walked away before I did something stupid.
But Joel, of course, had to push.
“You mad ‘cause I won, or mad ‘cause you know I’m right?” he asked, leaning in slightly.
And just like that, my patience snapped.
“God, you are so insufferable!” I huffed, standing up abruptly.
Joel followed, rising to his full height, his body inches from mine. “And you are so damn stubborn.”
“Because I don’t fall for your stupid games?”
“No, because you pretend you don’t want this!”
My jaw clenched. “I don’t.”
Joel let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”
I pushed at his chest, more out of frustration than anything, but he barely moved. “You are the last person I’d ever—”
Before I could finish, he grabbed my wrist, tugging me forward. “Then tell me to stop.”
I froze.
The bonfire crackled behind us, voices and laughter distant, drowned out by the pounding of my own heart.
Joel’s eyes searched mine, his breathing heavy, his grip firm but not unkind. “Tell me to walk away, y/n.”
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Joel's grip on my wrists tightened, his eyes burning with a fury that mirrored mine. "I'm talking about the fact that I can't stand you, y/n. I can't stand watching you shut me out, push me away, acting like you've got everything figured out."
I blinked, stunned by the words he'd just said.
"You can't stand me?" The words stung, more than I wanted to admit, but I was too furious to back down now.
Joel's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah. I can't stand how you make everything so damn hard. I can't stand how you act like I'm some kind of joke. But I can't stop thinking about you either. You don't get it, do you?" His voice dropped to a whisper, the raw emotion there now, the heat between us intensifying with every word. "I want you, y/n. I want you so fucking much, and I can't stand it."
The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, staring up at him, realizing that everything l'd been fighting— everything I thought I knew-was coming to a head. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, the heat and the desire that had been simmering beneath our constant bickering now breaking free in an overwhelming wave.
Without thinking, I pushed myself up onto my toes, crashing my lips into his with all the pent-up frustration, desire, and raw emotion I'd been holding back. His hands immediately moved to my back, pulling me flush against him, and the moment our lips met, it was like everything exploded. His kiss was demanding, urgent, filled with everything we hadn't said before-the anger, the passion, the need.
I tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body against mine, the way our breaths mingled as we kissed like it was the only thing that mattered. I could feel the way his muscles tensed under my fingers, the rawness of him, the way he was losing control just as much as I was.
"Y/n," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and raspy. "I can't stop... can't stop thinking about you."
I pulled away just enough to look him in the eye, my chest heaving with breathless anticipation. "Then don't," I said, my voice shaky but full of conviction. "Stop fighting it."
Joel groaned against my mouth, his arms wrapping around me in an instant, pulling me flush against him. The kiss was rough, urgent, months—years—of tension exploding all at once.
He backed me up until my back hit the fence, his hands gripping my hips like he was afraid I’d pull away. But I wasn’t going anywhere.
The kiss deepened, urgent, messy, full of everything we had been avoiding. I felt his hands running down my back, pulling me even closer as if he couldn't get enough, as if everything we had been holding back was finally being released in the fire between us.
My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles flexed with every move. I pulled him closer, his breath coming fast and shallow as he kissed me harder.
I didn't think about the competition. I didn't think about the risks or the consequences. All I could focus on was the heat between us, the passion that had been building for so long, finally bursting open in a wave that left us both breathless and lost in the moment.
When we finally broke apart, both of us gasping for air, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his hands still gripping me tightly.
"Shit," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "That was-"
I didn't let him finish, pulling him back into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more deliberate.
Joel's grin spread, a familiar cocky smirk returning, but now there was something more beneath it-something real, something that neither of us could deny.
We made it back to the bed and breakfast and I wasn't sure what I expected after everything— after the anger, the lust, the feeling of crossing some line l'd never been able to cross before-but in that moment, none of the thoughts I had before made sense anymore.
Joel's lips were still on my skin, his hands brushing against my body with a familiarity that felt too natural. I couldn't quite process it all-the way my heart raced, the way he moved so confidently, but also with that trace of hesitation like he was waiting for me to push him away. And I could feel the shift, the change, that had come with everything.
I could feel it in the way he touched me now-so gentle, but deep with a hunger I hadn't expected.
His lips trailed over my neck, down my jaw, slowly, like he was savoring every second. It made my breath catch, my pulse quicken as I let myself fall into the feeling, into him.
"Y/n..." he whispered, his voice rough, barely above a breath. "I didn't think it would be like this. But damn, I can't stop..."
He didn't finish the sentence, and I didn't need him to. I knew exactly what he meant. It was the same thing I was feeling, the same pull, the same want.
I wasn't thinking anymore. I wasn't thinking about the competition, about the rivalry, about all the reasons we shouldn't be here, doing this.
I reached up, pulling him into a kiss, my fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as if somehow that would make it all make sense. His hands slid under me, lifting me slightly, and I could feel him shift, his body pressing against mine with a desperate kind of intensity.
We couldn't keep our hands off each other. His touch was scorching, a contrast to the cool sheets beneath us. My hands roamed over his chest, feeling the taut muscles there, the heat radiating from him.
He groaned softly when my fingers brushed his collarbone, his lips parting in that same quiet desperation.
I could tell he was holding back-like he was giving me a chance to stop him, to pull away. But I didn't want to. I couldn't stop him.
When his hands found their way down to my waist, pulling me even closer, I couldn't stop the soft gasp that escaped me. And that was it. He kissed me again, this time rougher, the pace of his movements picking up, pushing me deeper into the moment.
I wanted him. God, I wanted him more than I wanted to admit.
Joel's mouth found mine again, his hands now working to tug my shirt off, and I wasn't stopping him. I didn't care anymore. All the walls, all the resistance, all the history between us—it melted away, and the only thing that mattered was what we were doing right now.
We were giving in. We were no longer fighting it.
My body responded instantly, moving against his, matching the intensity of his kiss, the roughness of his hands. He was relentless, his kisses growing deeper, more urgent, as if he couldn't get enough.
And I couldn't either.
The way he touched me made everything else feel irrelevant. The way his lips trailed down my body sent sparks of heat that burned away every other thought I had, until all I could think about was him.
It felt so right, but at the same time, so completely new.
Every touch, every movement, was a revelation. He wasn't the same man l'd been arguing with all day. He was someone else now-someone raw, someone real. Someone who was finally, finally, showing me all the things he'd been holding back.
And I realized, in that instant, I wasn't the only one letting go. He was too.
His body pressed against mine, heat radiating off him, as if he was saying everything he couldn't with words. His kiss was hungry, fevered, but there was something more to it-something soft, something almost... gentle.
I felt his hand on my back, guiding me, moving me closer, as if there was no space between us, as if we were meant to be tangled up in this moment, in this feeling. We were no longer the same stubborn, competitive people. We were two people who had finally let go of everything and just given in.
And I couldn't bring myself to stop.
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagines#joel miller one shot#joel miller imagine#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller smut#joel miller#joel miller angst#joel miller x you#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal x you#pedro x reader#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#pedrohub#pedro pascal
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Farmer's Daughter

Warning +18 only age-gap,Explicit sexual relations, explicit language,dynamic power
Note:English is not my first language so I apologize in advance if I make any spelling or grammatical mistakes. Many thanks to everyone who read the first chapter of Redemption
The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold. Joel looked toward the farmhouse in the distance. The place seemed peaceful, surrounded by fields of wheat swaying gently in the wind. He took a deep breath and moved forward, feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders. It wasn’t the first time he’d made this kind of delivery, but he never felt comfortable in such open spaces, so far from the noise of the city.
As he approached the main house, a figure appeared on the porch. It was a young woman, no older than twenty, with messy brown hair and hands busy with a large basket of strawberries. She wore a worn-out overall and boots. Her alert eyes locked onto Joel with a mix of curiosity and caution.
“Hello?” she asked, her voice firm but slightly trembling.
“I’m Joel,” he replied, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I have a delivery for your father. He said he’d be here today.”
The young woman frowned and looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again.
“My father isn’t here. He had to go to the nearest town for supplies. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Joel nodded slowly, assessing the situation. He didn’t like leaving the delivery with someone other than the intended recipient, but he couldn’t afford to come back another day. He had other matters to attend to, and the trip to the farm had been long.
“I understand,” he said finally. “Can you handle it? It’s important.”
She hesitated for a moment but then nodded with determination.
“Yes, I can. Come in.”
Joel followed her inside the house. The place was modest but cozy, with rustic wooden furniture and open windows. On a nearby table, there was a disassembled rifle, and Joel noticed the young woman casting nervous glances at him. He didn’t blame her. In such an isolated place, distrust was understandable.
“What’s your name?” Joel asked as he set his bag down on the floor.
“Lena,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t worry, I know how to handle these things. My father has taught me everything I need to know.”
Joel gave a half-smile. There was something about Lena that reminded him of Sarah, his daughter. That mix of innocence and determination that only young people who had grown up in tough environments could have.
“Good,” he said, opening the bag and pulling out a box of tools. “Here you go. Tools and some spare parts for the tractor. Your father and I agreed on an exchange.”
Lena nodded and took the box, placing it carefully on the table. Then she walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a cloth bag.
“Here’s what you agreed on,” she said, handing it to Joel. “Some money and a few preserves we made this summer. I hope it’s enough.”
Joel quickly checked the contents and nodded.
“It’s just what we need. Thanks.”
There was an awkward moment of silence as they looked at each other with curiosity, each assessing the other. Joel noticed Lena’s beauty, her body covered by the fabric of her jeans. Lena noticed Joel’s strong arms, his dark hair, and the marks of age on his face. Finally, Lena broke the ice.
“Are you a mechanic?” she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
“Something like that,” Joel replied, shrugging.
She nodded, as if she understood perfectly.
“I think I’d better go,” Joel said, looking intently at the young girl.
Joel walked down the path leading back to his truck, but something stopped him. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something about Lena that made him stay, something that drew him in beyond the simple transaction. Maybe it was her eyes and the way they looked at him with curiosity and maybe even desire.
Lena was still on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair with one leg resting on the railing, watching him with those eyes that seemed to see right through him. Joel slowly approached, feeling the air between them charged with a tension he couldn’t ignore.
“Do you need something else?” Lena asked, her voice soft but firm.
Joel stopped a few steps away from her, looking directly into her eyes.
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “Maybe I just need a moment.”
Lena studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether to trust him. Then, with a calm movement, she stepped down from the porch and walked toward him. Joel could feel the warmth of her body, the scent of earth and fresh grass that surrounded her.
“My father won’t be back until tomorrow,” Lena said, her voice now barely a whisper.
Joel felt a shiver run down his spine. He wasn’t a man who let his emotions take over easily, but there was something about Lena that made him lose control. Without a second thought, he closed the distance between them and took her by the waist, feeling her tense for a moment before relaxing in his arms.
“This shouldn’t be happening,” Joel murmured, though his actions said otherwise.
“Maybe not,” Lena replied, bringing her face closer to his. “But it is.”
Their lips met in a slow but passionate kiss, filled with a need neither of them had admitted until that moment. Joel felt the world around him fade away, leaving only Lena and the warmth radiating from her. His hands explored her back, feeling the tension in her muscles, as she pulled him closer, as if she couldn’t stand the distance between them.
“Joel,” Lena murmured between kisses, her voice trembling but full of desire.
He didn’t respond with words but with actions. He lifted her effortlessly, feeling her wrap around him, and carried her back inside the house. The door closed behind them, and Joel pressed her against the wall, never breaking the contact between their lips. Lena held him tightly, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go.
“This is crazy,” Joel said, though his hands were already unbuttoning Lena’s overalls.
“Don’t worry, I’ve always hoped someone attractive would pass by here,” she replied, sliding her hands under his shirt to feel the warm skin of his back.
Joel couldn’t resist. The need he had been suppressing for years surfaced, and he let Lena guide him to her room, a small space with a bed covered in white sheets. He gently laid her down on the bed, looking at her with an intensity that made Lena hold her breath. His hands explored every inch of her body, feeling her respond to every touch, every caress.
“Joel,” Lena whispered, arching toward him. “Don’t stop.”
He had no intention of doing so. With slow but deliberate movements, Joel undressed her, revealing the soft, warm skin hidden beneath the layers of clothing. Lena looked at him with eyes full of desire, and Joel felt his own body respond to the intensity of her gaze.
“You’re too beautiful,” Joel murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along her neck and shoulders.
Lena held him tightly, feeling the world around her fade away, leaving only Joel and the warmth radiating from him. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt natural, as if they were destined to meet in that moment.
“Joel,” Lena moaned, burying her hands in his hair. “Don’t leave.”
He didn’t respond with words but with actions. He removed the only piece of clothing she wore under her overalls—a pair of white panties. Joel took a condom from his wallet, creating a small, painful distance between them to put it on his large member. Lena looked down to see it, a small smile of amazement on her face.
“It’s too big for me, Joel,” she said as she kissed him uncontrollably. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” he said, positioning himself at her entrance.
He thrust in for the first time, bracing himself against the headboard of the bed. Both were a mess, moaning after the first thrust.
He pulled out completely, catching Lena off guard, and then thrust back in with a strong, painful motion. Lena began to tear up.
Joel pulled away for a moment to give her a break and stimulate her breasts. They were the perfect size, fitting perfectly in his hand. He took one roughly and lazily licked her nipple, looking up at her to see her reaction. She only moaned in response to the pleasure. He lowered his arm and grabbed his member, massaging it against her leg as he realized that, due to their height difference, he couldn’t reach her sweet spot.
Joel realized what she wanted and stopped licking and biting her breasts, leaving them red and marked by him. He helped fulfill her desire by rubbing his member against her clit.
“I knew it from the moment I saw you,” Joel said as he thrust hard into her. “Knew what?” Lena asked, arching like a cat in pleasure. “That you were too needy for cock. Did you think I didn’t notice how innocent you were pretending to be? Daddy’s little girl, what would he think if he found out you slept with an older man?”
“He’d probably be mad because from now on, I won’t be able to be without you.”
Joel continued to move firmly, feeling Lena adjust perfectly to him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, leaving marks on her skin. Lena moaned with each thrust, her nails digging into Joel’s back, drawing red lines he barely felt in his ecstasy.
“What else do you want, Lena?” Joel asked in a hoarse voice, his lips brushing her ear. “Tell me.”
Lena could barely form words, but her eyes begged for more. Joel smiled, satisfied, and changed the angle of his movements, searching for that spot that would make her scream. When he found it, Lena arched her back, a muffled cry escaping her lips.
“Joel!” she screamed, her hands clutching him as if he were her only anchor in a sea of pleasure.
Joel didn’t slow down, feeling his own climax approaching. His hands moved to Lena’s breasts, massaging them firmly, feeling her nipples harden under his fingers. Lena moaned, her body trembling beneath his, each of Joel’s movements bringing her closer and closer to the edge.
“Baby, you’re going to come,” Joel murmured, his words a hot whisper against Lena’s skin. “Let it go.”
And she did. With a muffled cry, Lena let herself be carried away by the wave of pleasure, her body convulsing beneath Joel’s. He held her, feeling his own orgasm hit, filling her with each final thrust.
When they finally stopped, both panting, Joel collapsed beside Lena, pulling her to rest against his chest. Lena curled up against him, her breathing still uneven.
“That was...” Lena began, but Joel interrupted her with a soft kiss.
“You don’t need to say it,” Joel said, stroking her hair. “I know.”
Lena smiled, closing her eyes as she relaxed against him. Joel held her, feeling a strange sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Maybe this wouldn’t change anything, but for a moment, it had been perfect.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x oc#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us#joel miller smut#pedro pascal smut
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Swept Away: Season Two
Chapter One: Long Time, No Sea

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: You and Joel return to Fiji, and Tommy gives you the grand tour of the new hotel.
Chapter Warnings: language, fluff, wedding talk, smut (18+ MDNI), airplane sex, unprotected piv sex, fingering, food and alcohol consumption, brief mention of OC substance abuse, possessiveness
WC: 6.7K
Series Masterlist
Eight Months Later
You breathed in a deep sigh as you scrolled through your emails in the back of the town car. It was pitch black outside as Richie drove you through the silent streets of Los Angeles to the airport, where Joel's private jet awaited your arrival.
"Don't be checkin' work now," Joel scolded from beside you. When your eyes shifted to him, you scoffed when you saw him doing the exact thing he told you not to do. He glanced up when he heard the noise and smirked.
"I got a company to run. You can relax a few hours til people are awake."
You rolled your eyes, chalking your attitude up to three hours of sleep and very little coffee, then stuffed your phone in your bag.
"It wasn't work, anyway."
"What was it?" he asked, sounding distracted.
"Wedding stuff," you shrugged, letting your gaze drift out the tinted window.
Joel put his phone in his lap and turned to you. "Nadia's buggin' you at this hour?"
Nadia was the highly recommended, very expensive wedding planner Joel had hired. She was wonderful: she had been in the business over ten years and had incredible taste. The problem you kept running into was the fact she was so goddamn detailed. She wanted your opinion on every possible thing, even down to the napkin rings, giving you at least ten different options, most of which looked exactly the same to you.
"I don't think she ever sleeps," you joked.
"What's she askin' 'bout now?"
"Fonts for the menus."
Joel shot you an incredulous look and you giggled. "It's a lot of work planning a wedding for over three hundred people."
"And you're doin' a great job," Joel assured you. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to help you more. I'm gonna be better-"
"No, no, it's fine," you said, cutting him off. But Joel shook his head and pocketed his phone before holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers.
"I'll pick the font. Lemme see."
"You want to pick the font for our dinner menu?" you squeaked. He grinned and nodded, hand still outstretched.
"Can't be that hard. Feels like somethin' I could handle."
You hummed and pulled your phone back out so you could bring up Nadia's email with the attached samples, then handed it over. You bit your lip when Joel squinted and tucked his chin into his chest before relenting and pulling out his glasses.
"You didn't need those to read your emails?"
"I need 'em 'cause all these damn fonts look exactly the same, baby," he murmured while his eyes scanned your screen for a few minutes. Finally, he huffed and shrugged his shoulders before picking one and holding it up. "How's that?"
"Edwardian Script," you read from your phone, then nodded. "Sure. I'll send it back to her."
"Unless you like somethin' else," he began.
"Nope, I love it," you told him as you typed out your reply to Nadia. Then you tucked your phone away and looked at him. "Besides, none of it really matters. I just want you."
Joel smiled and lovingly pinched your chin. "You got me. Always did." Then his lips brushed softly over yours and for a moment, all the stress that had been building up from work and wedding planning melted away.
"We're here, sir," Richie said from the front seat. You pulled away and peered through the front windshield at the dark tarmac where only Joel's plane sat, all lit up.
"You ready to open this damn hotel so we can have ourselves a wedding in a couple months?" Joel asked softly, fingers still stroking your jaw. You grinned and nodded before planting one more kiss on his lips.
"I'd marry you right here at the airport," you said, making him smile wide, "but Fiji does sound a little better, I guess."
Richie parked the town car and immediately jumped out to open your door. You took his hand and thanked him, shouldering your bag while Joel scooted out behind you and shook Richie's hand.
"Keep a good eye on the place."
"Will do, sir."
You threw your arms around Richie's neck and thanked him again with the promise to bring him and his wife something back from the island, then eagerly took Joel's hand so he could lead you to the plane.
A feeling of déjà vu came over you when you greeted the familiar looking pilot and crew. A lot had changed since the last time you found yourself boarding Joel's private jet to head off to paradise. You entered the cabin and dropped your bag on the couch with a tired sigh, hoping that this trip would be a lot less stressful than the last.
It was very early and you were beyond exhausted, so once the plane took off and you got the all clear to unbuckle your seatbelts, you made a beeline for the bedroom to curl up and rest. With a loud yawn, Joel followed, which was how you found yourself intertwined hours later.
When you cracked open one eye, you could tell from the beam of light desperately trying to break through around the circular covered windows that it was later in the morning. The sun had already risen high enough in the sky for it to be bright enough to wake you. It wasn't something you were used to; sleeping in. Even on the weekends, your body was so used to waking up that by seven at the latest, you were tossing and turning. But if you thought you were bad, Joel was worse. He was normally up before the sun. By the time you made your way downstairs, he was typically just leaving the home gym or eating breakfast. So to have him wrapped around you from behind still snoring softly in your ear while the sun shone brightly in the sky, your instinct told you to savor it.
You closed your eyes and leaned back into his hold, burrowing into his chest and soaking up his warmth. With the chaos of the wedding planning and the hotel on the brink of opening in just two weeks, life had been hectic. It was nice to have some time for just the two of you.
It was so peaceful, you nearly found yourself drifting back to sleep, but then you felt Joel's beard tickle your neck. Half a second later, he inhaled deeply and his arms flexed around your middle, tugging you slightly closer. A satisfied groan rumbled in his chest when he woke up enough to remember where you were, and then his lips grazed the side of your neck.
You giggled when his beard dragged across that sensitive spot behind your ear and you felt him smile against your skin.
"Mornin'."
You shuddered at his thick, sleep addled voice. "Good morning," you said sleepily. Your body felt boneless, muscles perfectly relaxed. "How much more time do you think we have?"
With a heavy sigh, Joel rolled back to tap a button on the nightstand behind him. Like magic, a small television quietly emerged from the depths of a dresser situated across the room. Then the screen lit up, showing a tiny airplane arcing over the ocean. On the side of the screen, stats were listed, including how much time was left on your flight.
"Got eight more hours," he said before pressing a soft kiss against your throat. You smiled and closed your eyes when his arms wrapped around you once again, pleased he wasn't in his usual rush to get up and check his phone. But then his hips bumped into you, giving away his arousal, and it dawned on you why he wasn't in a hurry that particular day.
"Do you have any ideas on how we can pass the time?" you asked breathlessly. His fingers began to toy with the hem of your sweatshirt, making you squirm under the covers. Without answering, his hand disappeared up your front. He slid slowly across your belly until he was cupping one breast in his palm, causing you to sharply suck in air through your nose when his thumb brushed over your nipple.
"No bra?"
"I had just rolled out of bed, remember?" you whispered. Joel made a pleased noise behind you before switching to your other breast.
"Can't wait to see you in those bikinis again," he said softly against your ear.
"You see me in bikinis all the time at home," you gasped, eyelids fluttering as he continued to tease you underneath your sweatshirt.
"Ain't the same. You're different at the beach. More relaxed." His lips grazed your shoulder and you whined. You hadn't even realized you were rolling your hips into his as he flicked and rolled your nipples until his other hand flattened out across your stomach to stop you. "You want it bad, huh?" he teased.
You pressed your lips firmly together and nodded. A sigh of relief broke free when he slipped his fingers past your waistband, dipping experimentally through your slit.
"Shit," he hissed, "you do want it bad."
"Joel," you moaned, hand reaching behind to curl around the back of his head. He slipped two fingers inside you, earning a gasp from you both, then slowly began to stretch you open. Every time he withdrew his fingers, he slid them up to your clit, circling it wetly once or twice before diving back inside. As the pressure between your legs grew, each leisurely swirl and thrust pushing you higher and higher, you began to search for his mouth over your shoulder. His lips collided with yours, tongues tangling messily in between your shared moans within the stillness of the cabin.
"Oh, that's it," Joel crooned against your mouth. Your hips were bucking into his hand, chasing your high with little moans that kept getting louder the faster his hand moved. "Give me one, then I'm gonna fuck you so good, you ain't ever gonna wanna leave this bed."
Your orgasm slammed into you, causing your back to arch away from his chest. There was something about the possessive tone in his voice, the authoritative command, assuring you he knew you better than you knew you. He knew what you liked and he knew what you needed. His steady hands were always in control, in every possible way. You loved taking care of him, but you'd be damned if you didn't love it when he took care of you, too.
When he felt your muscles relax and heard a contented sigh leave your lips, he was on you in the blink of an eye. With one quick roll, he had you face down. He reared back and tugged your pants down your legs, tossing them onto the floor before sliding your sweatshirt over your head while you just laid there, still soft and pliant from your climax.
His hands wrapped around your hips, pulling them up while your chest remained pressed against the bed. All at once, he slid his cock inside of you with a heavy groan. You had expected him to fuck you just like that: face resting on the sheets, ass up in the air for his taking, but to your surprise the flat of his hand pushed your lower back down to the bed.
A question formed on your lips but never reached the light of day because he began to move, destroying any chance at finding your voice. His legs bracketed yours, which had been pushed together and stretched straight underneath him, leaving just enough room for his cock to slide in and out of your cunt.
A strangled moan pushed itself past your lips, getting lost in the soft bedding. Joel flopped down, pressing his chest against your back, forearms planted on either side of your head. The angle was so intense and it was nearly impossible to move from the way his body formed a shell around you. All you could do was lie there and take it. Your fingers curled around the plush comforter while his hips rocked against you at a torturously slow pace, forcing you to feel every inch as he murmured filth into your ear.
"How's that, huh? Feel good? This what my girl needed? So full'a me, bet you feel it in your throat." His teeth sunk into your shoulder, pinching your skin at the same time as a particularly hard thrust. It finally made you cry out loud enough that it had him chuckling in your ear, "Flight crew's gonna hear."
It was the last thing on earth you cared about. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed was Joel and what he was doing to pull unfathomable amounts of pleasure from your body.
"S-so go-od," you stammered, eyes rolling to the back of your head while Joel continued to fuck you deeper than he ever had before. You must have looked like an absolute mess. Hair tangled from sleep, now spread out across your pillow in every which way. Eyes all glassy, jaw hung open while you struggled to breathe beneath him, but it wasn't his weight that was stealing all the air from your lungs. It was the slow drag of his cock, forcing you to just lie there and feel.
"I like you like this," Joel rasped in your ear. He began to move a little faster then, hips shifting and angling in such a way that it had your vision blurring and your pulse skyrocketing. "Can tell nothin' else is goin' on in that pretty head other than how good it feels when I'm fuckin' you. Am I right?"
You nodded while lifting your ass just the slightest bit. All you could smell was his skin, all you could feel was his warmth, all you could hear was his deep voice telling you how beautiful you were, how hard you worked and how nice it must feel to just relax and let him take care of you.
His palm slid across the top of your hand so your fingers could lace together, but when he felt the sharp sting of your engagement ring between his fingers, he smirked and started to fuck you a little harder. He fucking loved seeing that ring on your left hand again, but loved it even more that you wore the second ring on your right finger. Call him possessive, crazy... whatever, he didn't care. It could not be any fucking clearer who you belonged to now.
Just then, the airplane hit a small patch of turbulence. The shifting in the cabin caused him to drive his cock deeper inside you, making you gasp and cry out his name.
"Shh, baby," he chuckled, but he kept moving. Your other hand reached back, grabbing a handful of his messy curls, tugging him down into the crook of your neck. His mouth immediately got to work, sucking and biting at the skin there until he left little bruises.
It was overwhelming, to say the least. He was everywhere. His body completely covered yours, trapped between him and the bed, cock buried so deep you weren't sure you would be able to walk out of the room when he was done. And just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his lips left your neck to find your mouth, plunging his tongue past your teeth with a groan you felt vibrate against your back.
Your entire body began to shudder when you felt it. That pool of pleasure that had been slowly filling back up was about to overflow. You tried to warn him, but words were hard to come by. Fortunately, his mouth was still seared over yours when it happened.
You might have said his name, or maybe you were just cursing, but either way you knew you were definitely screaming because by the time your orgasm finished crashing over you, your throat felt raw and you were panting for air against his mouth like you had just run a marathon.
"Good girl," he whispered before lifting his head back up. You were grateful for it, the chance to breathe fresh air even while he rammed into you mercilessly for about thirty more seconds, until his body went rigid and he gasped your name, spilling himself deep inside you.
Joel pulled out and sat up, causing your eyes to widen from the sudden loss, and he flipped you back over. His hand caressed your face gently, swiping away tears you didn't even realize were there, as he examined you closely.
"You alright? Was it too much?"
His chest was heaving and his cock was still hard between his legs. He hadn't even given himself a chance to enjoy his release and soften inside you before checking on you.
"I'm good," you rasped, throat still hoarse. Your shaky hand came up to cup his. "Promise. I'm good. Just - holy shit," you whispered, letting your eyes slide closed so you could melt back into the mattress. Joel laughed once he was satisfied you were telling the truth and collapsed next to you.
"You hungry?" he asked casually while unplugging his phone. He bent one leg as he studied the screen, completely naked and unbothered while you were still waiting for your limbs to stop shaking.
"Where on earth do you find the energy?" you asked. His eyes found yours and he shrugged.
"I slept in."
You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief before turning to sit up and gather your clothes. "I'm gonna go wash up," you told him. He made a little noise of acknowledgement as you staggered into the bathroom. When you caught sight of your reflection, you twisted your face in disgust and began to quickly get to work, hoping to make it look a little less like you just had the life fucked out of you before entering the main cabin.
Since you were only a few hours away from landing, you decided to slip on the white linen dress you had picked out. With two fucking rings on your hands, you decided to keep accessories to a minimum and instead just slipped a pair of sunglasses into your purse for later before timidly opening the bedroom door in search of Joel.
As you expected, he was sitting at the table typing away on his laptop. You frowned when you saw he had changed his clothes to a casual short sleeved button down and relaxed khakis.
"Didn't you want to take a shower first?" you asked, sitting across from him. He smirked and shook his head, eyes still glued to the computer screen.
"Nope."
His gaze lifted quickly and he shot you a wink. You laughed and dug around in your duffel bag for a book to read, deciding work could wait.
"What's the plan when we get there?" you asked, leaving your worn paperback on the table in front of you, then reached for a cold bottle of water from the cup holder by the window.
"Tommy's meetin' us at the airport," Joel said, abandoning the keyboard and leaning back into his chair. "He's gonna take us to the hotel. Ain't ready for guests just yet but we're gonna stay in the presidential villa. Wanna take her for a test drive, see if anythin's missin'."
"So, we get the whole hotel to ourselves?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows. Before Joel could respond, a flight attendant emerged from the galley with two plates of covered food. You both made room on the table and she placed them down in front of you.
"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked.
"No, we're all set," you said, looking up to give her a friendly smile. Joel agreed and she quickly made her way back into the kitchen, and it was only then you realized she had been unable to look either of you in the eye.
"You don't think they heard us, do you?" you whispered. Joel had already begun eating, but around a mouthful of chicken he gave you a look and slowly nodded.
"You weren't exactly quiet, baby," he reminded you.
Your eyes widened and your face instantly grew hot. Pressing your palms against your cheeks, you shook your head and groaned.
"Oh my god, tell me you're joking."
Joel just laughed and took another bite of food. "None of their goddamn business, who cares?"
"I care!"
"Then next time I'll just have to put somethin' in that pretty mouth of yours to keep you quiet."
Your ears burned and you gently swatted at him from across the table, making him laugh. It was sweet, really, to think about the last time the two of you were on his plane heading to Fiji and how different Joel was now. Before, he was gruff and very serious, entirely focused on business and not at all interested in having any fun once you arrived on the island. To see him now with a smile on his face and wearing casual clothes in place of a stiff suit made your chest swell with happiness.
"Have you heard anything from Sarah?"
"Not yet, but I warned her I'd fuckin' know if she had any parties while we're gone," he said, then checked his phone for any possible missed calls or texts from his daughter.
"Joel, she's seventeen and she's got a whole mansion to herself for the next two weeks. She's going to have friends over."
"Friends is one thing, but I ain't havin' any boys sniffin' 'round her in my own house while I'm gone," he said sternly. You hid your smile behind your fork, secretly adoring the way Joel had become so paternal in the past year. "'Sides, she ain't alone. I got staff there 'round the clock keepin' an eye on her and the place."
Joel and Sarah's mother didn't have a very pleasant history. After he discovered she had gotten pregnant, she tried to bait him into marriage just so she could have access to all of his money. Joel broke things off with her and closed himself off emotionally for over a decade. He ended up having a difficult time maintaining a relationship with Sarah, as well, but after some encouragement on your part, they reunited. Progress was slow at first, but you didn't expect anything less. Then Joel found out Sarah's mother struggled on and off with substance abuse, something that kept him awake more nights than you could count. After a particularly long night of Joel tossing and turning, you suggested asking Sarah to move in with the two of you, and while it took some time to get used to a third person in the house, you noticed Joel immediately started sleeping better. Sarah still visited her mother often, occasionally even staying overnight for a weekend here or there, but Joel's mind was at peace knowing she was safe.
"Alright," you said, folding your hands on the table after your plates were cleared. "So Tommy's taking us to the hotel - then what?"
"Was gonna have him show me 'round, check on all the progress, see what need's doin' 'fore next week."
"Next week? The hotel doesn't open for two weeks," you reminded him. He shook his head and glanced at his phone when a notification popped up.
"Soft open is next week, so we only get the place to ourselves for a few days," he said, then cocked an eyebrow before adding, "think you'll be able to behave yourself?"
"Me?" you sputtered with your hand pressed to your chest in mock offense. "I'm an angel, I have no idea what you're talking about."
Joel chuckled and turned his attention back to his laptop while you stared out the window, lost in thought.
"So are my parents staying at The Parador?"
Your parents, who had never left the mainland United States, agreed to a vacation only after they found out all expenses would be paid when you made your plans to return for the grand opening. He had told you at the time he thought your mother would want to be involved in the wedding planning, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was his way of trying to score some points with them.
When you told them the news about your engagement, they were shocked, to say the least. It wasn't the reaction you were hoping for but to be fair, you had hardly given them any time to come around after you had begged your mother to give Joel a chance. Since your big news, they hadn't come out to visit once and any time you brought up wedding plans over the phone, your parents got very quiet before ultimately changing the subject to something else.
Joel shook his head. "Booked 'em a nice villa at The Sapphire. Didn't want them to put up with the growin' pains from a new staff. Wanted 'em to be comfortable."
You studied him from over the top of his computer, heart breaking a little bit at the tone in his voice. He didn't like to let it show, but you could tell it bothered him. Part of you wondered if he booked them a trip so he would get a chance to get to know them better and change their minds.
"That was thoughtful," you said softly. Joel just grunted and continued to work, so you stretched your leg out under the table, nudging his knee with your foot to get his attention. When his eyes flickered back up to you, you tilted your head to the side and said, "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, you know. I'm the one spending the rest of my life with you - not them."
The corner of his mouth twitched and you smiled when he said, "I know. Just want them to know how much I love you, is all."
You knew Joel could come off a little brash at first. Hell, your first impression of him wasn't the best. In fact, it took some time before you could see past that hardened, cutthroat businessman exterior to who he really was underneath.
Although... when Joel met your parents, you saw with your own eyes how hard he was trying. He was warm and inviting the entire time your parents were in his home. Their standoffish behavior didn't make much sense, but you chalked it up to the abundant displays of wealth combined with losing their only daughter to an entirely different lifestyle as their reason, and knew deep down that one day they would understand why you fell in love with him.
"Thought your folks were joinin' us, sweetheart," Tommy said from the driver's seat of a beat up work truck.
"Not for a few more days," you replied, tightly pressing your lips together to keep yourself from squealing when Tommy took a sharp, bumpy turn. Joel was in the backseat next to you, hanging onto the door for dear life. If there wasn't a rip in the leather digging into the back of your thigh, you would have laughed at the expression on his face. The old Dodge truck was a far cry from the luxurious town cars or any one of the hideously expensive vehicles currently in Joel's garage back in L.A.
"Aw, that's nice. Got any plans?"
"Uh-" you squeezed your eyes shut when Tommy hit a pothole, then took a deep breath. "Yeah. I was going to take them into town to eat one night, and show them around The Parador so they could see exactly what it is I'm spending all my time on," you laughed. Joel shot you a quick smile before furrowing his brow when Tommy ran a stop sign. "Maybe see if they'd want to do jet skis or check out the fire dancers. I was gonna leave it up to them, but I know they want to do their own thing, too."
"And they'll be plannin' the wedding, right?" Tommy confirmed, quirking an eyebrow at you over his sunglasses in the review mirror.
"Oh, yeah, duh," you laughed, "that, too."
Tommy grinned and dropped an arm out his window, letting his fingers dance on the warm breeze as he drove up the service road behind the hotel.
"Front's just been paved, don't wanna drive on it just yet," he explained when Joel began coughing from all the dirt kicking up.
Finally, he threw the truck into park, the radio and air conditioning cutting at the same time so you could now hear the distant shouts of workmen and power tools coming from inside the hotel.
"Alright, brother... you ready to finally see what all your money's gotten you?"
Joel kicked open his door and slid out, then turned to extend a hand for you.
When you exited the truck, the first thing that struck you was the sheer size of the resort. The parcel of land Joel bought from Glenn was almost ten acres of literal paradise. Through the massive glass windows that were installed practically everywhere so the guests could enjoy the view, no matter where they were. Amongst all the natural foliage, you knew somewhere was a lagoon that had a lounging area built around it for guests, along with four climate controlled pools and six different restaurants, all of which offered outdoor seating. In addition to all that was a private beach, a tennis court, a handful of manmade waterfalls, and a golf course.
And all of that was just the outside.
"Better be good. Those purchase orders were lookin' mighty pricey the past couple months," he grumbled. You squeezed his hand and smiled up at him as you followed Tommy up to the back entrance of the hotel, your excitement contagious and causing Joel to crack a smile of his own.
"Forgot how damn hot it is here," Joel said, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. Tommy twisted around to hold open the door and stepped to the side, allowing the two of you to enter first.
"You're in luck. AC was turned on last week."
The hotel was two weeks away from the grand opening and one week away from the soft opening, so when you entered the lobby, it was far from the construction site you had remembered from previous video calls. Joel had come out by himself a few times, but you hadn't seen the hotel unless it was through a screen. You realized quickly the videos and pictures didn't do the place justice.
"Two story lobby," Tommy said, pointing up like you could somehow miss the massive, sparkling chandeliers hanging above your heads. "Front desk is tucked into the side next to the doors so the guests experience the beauty of the place right off the bat, 'stead of starin' at a desk with computers, just like you said," he continued as he lead you further into the space. Joel nodded and slowly looked around, examining every sconce and white marble tile for any defects while your fingers trailed over the textured bronze wallpaper lining the entire entrance.
Tommy continued to talk, pointing things out and searching for Joel's approval: the deep teal couches and chairs that scattered around the room. The tropical looking café set across from the front desk that carried more blends of coffee than Starbucks. The spotless white flooring and countertops. He even showed you the bathrooms, making sure everything was perfect and up to Joel's standards.
When Tommy finally saw his brother crack a pleased smile with a firm clap on the shoulder, his face lit up with relief.
"Y'did good," Joel told him before releasing his grip and spinning back around. His next order of business was to introduce himself to the hotel staff, who were all adorned in pressed black pants with a matching black shirt that had a flare of deep teal on their breast pocket which matched the lobby furniture. You smiled to yourself as you followed Joel's lead, shaking their hands before stopping in the kitchen to meet more employees. All of the hard work he had put into this hotel, his dream, was actually paying off.
Afterwards, Tommy led you up to the presidential villa, which was in it's own private wing. While you rode the elevator, he explained how each room had a balcony, two flat screen televisions, pillowtop mattresses, blackout drapes, a safe, and a small kitchen area.
"And that's just what all rooms got standard," Tommy said once he stepped off the elevator and fished out the keycard they handed him at the front desk. "'Course, there's different levels, y'know that."
You and Joel exchanged looks behind Tommy's back while he unlocked the door to your room. Obviously, you knew all of that - especially Joel. He was the one who had final say over every detail. But hearing how excited and proud Tommy felt kept either of you from saying a word.
What surprised you first when you entered the villa was, even though you had taken an elevator up a few floors, you still found yourself looking out at the beach through the spotless glass windows. Tommy said something about a hilly terrain being the reason and how much of a pain it was to build around it, but you hardly heard a word because your eyes were drawn to the huge painting hung behind the soft, white couch. It was an exact replica of the painting Joel had bought you the last time you were on the island. Ellie's familiar brush strokes of soft pinks, blues and whites filled the canvas. You laughed in disbelief before you rushed over to examine it closer, then glanced happily over your shoulder at Joel, who stood back with his hands shoved in his pockets and a pleased look on his face.
"Was hard to keep it a secret but I wanted to surprise you."
You jut out your lower lip and held out your hand for him to join you, your expression softening when you heard the shy tone in his voice. Tommy was across the room, opening up the big glass doors to let in the sea breeze when you took Joel's hand and stood on your tiptoes, giving him a kiss that had his cheeks turning pink.
"I love you," you whispered when you fell back onto the flats of your feet. Tommy began fiddling with the remote for the stereo, talking to himself while Joel gazed down at you adoringly.
"I love you, too."
A year and a half earlier
It had been almost a month without you, but it felt like more. Every breath hurt, he could barely sleep, and forget about focusing on work. It was supposed to be the highlight of his career - obtaining the unobtainable parcel of land in Fiji. Yet he couldn't enjoy it, because his every waking thought was consumed with you.
It was even worse being so far away, back on the island where everything started and ended. Yet he still made sure to pick out the next day's floral arrangement to be sent to your door. It was the only way he could remind you that he was thinking of you, even though you had begged him to stop, he wouldn't, because it was the only way to make sure you didn't forget about him.
Once he picked the arrangement, he emailed it to Liam and with a sigh, dropped his phone onto the table next to his lounge chair.
The sun was beginning to set; casting gorgeous hues of bright orange, pink, and yellow across the sparkling water.
You would have loved it.
He figured it was now or never, so he shucked off his shirt and made his way to the shoreline.
Just like he remembered, the water was warm and crystal clear. He submerged himself up to his shoulders and allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. No matter how hard he tried to relax and enjoy himself, his inner turmoil kept his muscles tense and his mind busy. Why did he have to be such an asshole? Why couldn't he had just spared you both the pain and gotten over his bullshit? You hadn't asked him for much. You just wanted to be let in, you wanted him to trust you with his deepest shame and regrets. But his fear of being judged and losing you was too much.
Ironically, he lost you anyway, so what was the point?
The waves lapped gently over his shoulders and the sound of people packing up their things on the beach drifted across the breeze. He wondered what you were doing at that very moment. Given the twenty hour time difference, it would be around bedtime for you, but the day before. He liked to imagine you getting ready for bed, putting all those different creams on your face and neck before brushing your teeth. He hadn't ever seen the inside of your apartment, so all he could do was remember how you looked getting ready for bed when you stayed with him on the island. You used to hurry into bed and dive under the covers to curl up against him. He smiled to himself at the memory, missing how unexpectedly comforting your presence was to him at night.
Maybe you missed it, too. Maybe you missed it right at the exact same moment.
When he reopened his eyes, the sun had sunk considerably lower and the beach was mostly empty, so he got to work. He walked slowly through the water, using his feet to search for the precious pink seashells to replace the ones he accidentally broke. Every few feet, he felt a cluster of smooth shells with the tips of his toes. It took almost ten minutes, but he finally was able to collect a decent amount. He waded back to shore, arms full amidst the twilight. Once he got back to his towel, he noticed a good portion of the shells were broken or cracked. He tossed those into the sand, only keeping the ones that looked absolutely perfect.
When he was satisfied, he wrapped them carefully in a spare towel and collected his things before heading back to his room.
He wasn't stupid. He knew seashells wouldn't fix everything. But he was hoping the gesture was enough to show you how much he cared.
Maybe it was a start.
Present Day
Joel trailed after you as you drifted from room to room, then grinned when you squealed at the master suite, which was right off the sitting room. He hadn't told you yet, but the presidential villa was going to rebrand into the honeymoon villa. He had created it with you in mind and based on the way you were jumping with excitement when you saw how a private garden and a courtyard filled in on either side of the glass walls surrounding the spa bathtub, he did a good job.
"Joel, this room is insane," you grinned. He stood next to the tub while you skipped down the galley-like closet until you reached the opposite side, turning around in the entryway of the bedroom and bathroom.
"You like it?"
"I love it!"
Joel smirked and nodded before strolling past the tub, into the bedroom. You followed on the other side, staring in awe at the floor to ceiling glass French doors that opened out to the infinity pool.
"I can't believe we get to spend two weeks here," you breathed. Joel walked up behind you, bending so he could hook his chin over your shoulder and wrap his arms around your waist.
"We can come here any time you want."
You giggled when his stubble brushed over your skin, tickling you.
"How about we come back here in a couple months?" you asked, leaning into his hold and letting him sway you back and forth. "Maybe get married or something?"
Joel chuckled into your skin, giving your shoulder a kiss.
"There's nothin' I want more."
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kiss me
grumpy!joel miller x reader
summary: Joel despises the superficiality of Valentine’s Day, and you, a hopeless romantic who adores love in all its forms, find your friendship tested when you spend Valentine’s week together as single friends, only to discover unexpected feelings that blur the line between friendship and love.
a/n: a little valentine story for yall 💞
joel miller masterlist
Valentine’s week was my favorite time of year. Everything felt lighter, softer—like the world was wrapped in a warm, pink haze. Even if most people thought it was cheesy, I loved it. Love letters, heart-shaped candies, couples holding hands—it made me believe that love, real love, was still out there.
Joel Miller didn’t share that belief.
“Don’t even start,” Joel grumbled the moment he picked up my call, his deep, tired voice crackling through the phone.
I grinned, curling up on my couch with a cup of coffee. “Start what?” I teased, already picturing the irritated look on his face. “I was just calling to check on my favorite Valentine’s Grinch.”
He let out a long sigh, and I bit back a laugh.
“What do you want, y/n?”
“Well,” I drew out the word, knowing exactly how much he’d hate what I was about to say. “We’re both single this year. Why don’t we spend Valentine’s week together?”
There was a beat of silence. I imagined him blinking in disbelief.
“You’re joking.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” I insisted. “Movies, takeout, no pressure. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even convince you that love isn’t as terrible as you think it is.”
“Not happening,” he muttered, but I heard the faintest smile in his voice.
“Is that a yes?” I pressed, holding my breath.
Another long sigh, then—“Fine. But don’t expect me to wear anything pink.”
I laughed, my heart fluttering. “Deal.”
The next few days felt like walking a tightrope.
We spent almost every moment together, but never crossed the line. We did all the things couples do—late-night drives with music humming softly in the background, sharing breakfasts at the little diner on Main Street, walking through the park while I pointed out every couple holding hands just to watch Joel roll his eyes.
But neither of us said it. Neither of us dared to admit what was simmering beneath the surface.
“This is exhausting,” Joel muttered as we sat on a park bench, sipping coffee.
“What is?” I asked, smiling into my cup.
“All of this. People pretending for a week that they’re in love.”
I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Not everyone’s pretending, you know.”
He scoffed. “Name one couple that ain’t puttin’ on a show.”
I didn’t even have to think. “My grandparents.”
Joel raised an eyebrow.
“They’ve been together for 53 years,” I said softly, my smile turning wistful. “They met in college. My grandpa still brings her flowers every Friday. And she still laughs at all his bad jokes.”
Joel let out a low hum, like he wasn’t sure if he believed me.
“I’m not saying it’s common,” I added, reading his mind. “But just because it’s rare doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
He glanced at me then, his gaze lingering a little too long, a little too soft. My breath caught, but I looked away before my feelings betrayed me.
One afternoon, we ended up in the bookstore downtown, wandering through the aisles. Joel found himself in the history section, while I was drawn to the romance novels, of course.
“You’re really gonna read one of those?” he asked, leaning against the shelf with a teasing smirk.
“Yes, Joel,” I shot back, holding up a book with a dramatic cover. “It’s called escapism. You should try it sometime.”
“I’ll stick to the real world, thanks.”
“Where love doesn’t exist?” I teased.
“Exactly.”
I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re hopeless.”
As we walked out, I couldn’t help myself. I nodded toward an older couple sitting on a bench, their hands intertwined, lost in their own little world.
“Look at them,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me that’s not real.”
Joel followed my gaze, but said nothing. I wished I knew what he was thinking.
It started with a simple plan—cook dinner, keep things light, pretend my heart wasn’t on the verge of bursting every time Joel Miller looked at me.
I wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen well enough to whip up something decent. Joel sat at the counter, watching me with an amused expression, a beer in hand.
“You sure you’re not gonna burn the place down?” he teased.
I shot him a playful glare. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”
He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was trying not to melt under the weight of his gaze.
I turned on some music to fill the silence, letting the soft strum of a guitar filter through the room. And then it happened—one of my favorite love songs started playing. A soft, sweet melody that made my chest ache.
“Uh-oh,” Joel muttered, already sensing what was coming.
I grinned, turning to face him. “Dance with me.”
“Y/n…” he warned, shaking his head.
“Please?” I stretched out the word, giving him my best pleading eyes. “For me?”
He let out a long sigh, but when I reached out my hand, he took it without a fight.
His hand was warm as he pulled me close, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his calloused fingers. We swayed in my tiny kitchen, the smell of dinner forgotten, the music weaving around us like a secret only we knew.
“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, but there was a softness in his voice, in the way his hand rested on my waist.
“Maybe,” I whispered back, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I could feel it—the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, the way his breath hitched when I leaned in closer.
For a moment, it felt like we weren’t pretending anymore. Like the feelings we never spoke about were real, tangible.
When the song ended, Joel pulled back slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. The air between us crackled with something unspoken.
“Dinner’s gonna burn,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he stepped away.
I laughed softly, but my heart still ached.
Because even when we danced around our feelings, I knew the truth.
Valentine’s Day arrived quietly, the way it always did.
I felt like I was losing my grip. Every smile, every lingering glance, every time Joel’s hand brushed against mine felt like it was unraveling me.
When I opened my apartment door that morning to find Joel standing there—grumpy expression firmly in place—holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, I froze.
“Uh… these are for you,” he mumbled, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
I stared at the flowers, then at him, trying to process the fact that Joel Miller—the man who swore up and down that Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commercial scam—was holding flowers for me.
“Is this a joke?” I teased, even though my heart was racing.
“Do you want ‘em or not?” he grumbled, shoving them toward me.
I laughed softly, taking the bouquet from his hands. “They’re beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… you like this kinda thing. Figured you deserved somethin’ nice.”
My chest tightened at his words. Joel Miller, who claimed not to believe in love, had just done something more thoughtful than any grand gesture ever could be.
That night, we ended up back at my apartment, a bottle of wine between us, laughing over old memories.
“I don’t get it,” Joel said, leaning back on the couch, his voice quieter now. “You got your heart broken—bad—and you still believe in all this love stuff.”
I swallowed hard, the memory of my past relationship still a dull ache. “Because I know what it feels like to be loved, Joel. Even if it wasn’t forever. And I know what it feels like to be alone, too.”
He looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re not alone,” he whispered.
And for a moment, I let myself believe him.
The night felt endless, every moment stretching out between us like a question neither of us wanted to answer.
I could feel Joel beside me, the weight of his presence grounding me, but also unraveling me. The flowers he’d given me sat on the table, delicate and unexpected, just like him.
“Joel,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.
He turned to me, eyes darker than usual, something unreadable flickering in them.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, Joel was already moving.
His hand cupped my face, rough fingertips trailing along my jaw, and then his lips were on mine.
This wasn’t a tentative kiss. This wasn’t careful. This was Joel Miller finally giving in, finally letting go of every wall he had built around his heart.
His mouth pressed urgently against mine, and I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt as if holding on for dear life. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
I felt everything in that kiss—every unspoken word, every moment we’d danced around our feelings, every piece of him he’d kept hidden from the world.
When we broke apart, breathless, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his voice rough and low.
“I can’t fight it anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.”
I swallowed hard, my heart aching in the best way. “Then don’t.”
He kissed me again, softer this time, but with the same intensity, the same longing that had always been there—waiting for us to finally stop pretending.
In that moment, I knew. Joel Miller didn’t just care for me.
He loved me.
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagines#joel miller one shot#joel miller imagine#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#joel miller smut#joel x reader#joel miller angst#joel miller x you#joel miller fluff#joel miller#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#pedrohub#pedro x reader#pedro pascal
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Let Me Go
Widower Joel Miller / F Reader
Letting go of your pain might be the hardest thing to do, even if you end up hurting another.
DESCRIPTIONS:
Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Angst and Feels, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning
DID I MENTION ANGST?
Word Count - 5893
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, I GUESS?
Top Tip - Do not listen to your heart if it tells you to start typing when you're about to get your period. It may result in the following.
---
It hurt. No one told her how much it would hurt. To see the man she loved move on. Met someone else. Brought you back to the house she used to share with him. She hated that you got to live in the house she helped her husband scrimped and saved for. She hated that you got to sleep in the bedroom that she decorated. She hated that you managed to get that stain off his shirt that she couldn’t manage, no matter how hard she tried. She hated that you kept the house in better shape than she ever did. She hated that the far end corner of the garden had never looked better. She hated that the tree in the backyard was gone. She hated that you got to cook in her dream kitchen. She hated that he ate your cooking. She hated that you knew what his favourite dish was. She hated that you cook it well. She hated that he took a second, even a third helping of it every time. She hated that you got to make his favourite cup of coffee every morning, his plate of bacon, eggs over easy and toast next to it.
She hated that you took care of him so well.
She hated that everyone in his life supported his union with you. Hated that they introduced him to you. Hated that he agreed to meet you in the first place. She hated that they just accepted you. His family, her family, her friends, everyone loved you. She hated that he went to all the gatherings they used to go to together with you. That it’s you who’s laughing with everyone now instead of her. That it’s you who’s getting him a plate to eat. That it’s you sitting next to him, and not her.
She especially hated that her parents and her in laws let you take care of Sarah. Her heart broke to see her baby bond with you. She hated that his parents let him take Sarah home to live with you. She hated that her own parents supported this decision. She hated it. She hated that Sarah had a special smile reserved just for you. She hated that you had a special kiss reserved only for Sarah, one that made her giggle for hours on end. She hated that Sarah looked so happy to be with you. She hated that you and Sarah had a special language you used, one that only the two of you could understand. She hated that you could soothe Sarah when she’s upset. Hated that Sarah fell asleep so easily in your arms.
She hated that he took you to the farmer’s market, Sarah in the baby carrier on his chest, carrying the basket with you walking next to him instead of her. She hated that the whole town now knew the two of you as Joel and Annie. She hated how easy it was for everyone to just accept you. She hated how everyone never mentioned her anymore. As if the two of them never happened. As if the two of them never mattered.
She hated that she knew all this. That she could see all this. Hear all this. The people who wouldn’t leave her alone kept telling her to move on. How could she? When you just swooped in and took her place as if she didn’t matter? As if she never existed?
She didn’t mean to leave him. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay with him and Sarah. But she was broken. It was the only way. She didn’t have a choice. She had to. So she did. It broke her heart to do it.
He was devastated. His life turned upside down. His world crumbled. He couldn’t even take care of Sarah, not without thinking of her. His parents took Sarah in, just so he had some time to adjust. But he couldn’t, and Sarah was without a father and a mother. So they introduced him to you. And to her surprise, he married you within a month of meeting. She was devastated at how easy it was for him to move on. She had to watch as he moved you into her dream house. Watch as you play family with her family.
She couldn’t watch anymore. It hurt too much. So a few weeks after you moved in, she stayed away. Refused to see or hear anything about you anymore.
He brought Sarah to see her without your knowledge. They would spend hours with her before going home. He told her he missed her. That he wished it was her with him and Sarah, and not you. That he married you out of necessity, not out of want. That he hoped she can forgive him. That she was the only one in his heart. That she was always on his mind. That he loved her, that he will always love her. That he will come see her again the next day, giving her a kiss.
It made her happy. She was never leaving him, and him, her.
**********
You greeted Joel and Sarah as they came home from the park, the happy girl babbling endlessly as she ‘told’ you about her adventures with her Daddy. Joel let you entertain Sarah for a while, cleaning her up as you did, going to the bathroom to clean up himself, and the three of you sat down for dinner. You fed Sarah first, Joel taking her once he’s done and waited for you to finish eating, the table, as usual, silent, save for Sarah’s babbles and the two of you entertaining her.
After dinner, you put Sarah down and spent the rest of the night prepping Sarah’s meals for the next day, cleaning the kitchen up and going to bed to read. Joel came in to kiss Sarah one more time as she slept and went next door to the master bedroom to sleep.
The next morning, you prepared his breakfast as usual, got Sarah ready and packed his lunch as he ate. He asked you if there was anything you needed from the store. You gave him a list of bread, milk, eggs and formula, and stood in front of the door as he kissed Sarah goodbye and left for work.
After he left, you went about your day, doing your chores as the lady of the house.
You spent the morning in your small garden in the backyard. You brought Sarah with you, her happy babbles from the carrier on your chest keeping you entertained as you took care of your flowers and herbs and vegetables. You brought out little bowls you filled with seeds and water for the birds and small critters and placed them on the new tree stump on the other side of the backyard, the bit that you did not plant in. This little patch on the left, this was yours. This was your own little space.
Once the sun started to come out more, you went inside to do the rest of your chores.
You did the laundry, using exactly the same laundry detergent she had used. You dusted and wiped the house, moving the decors and furniture she had chosen before putting them back exactly where it was, the way she had liked. You wiped all the picture frames of her and your husband on their wedding day, hung them back up or rearranged them on the shelf, making sure they were just so. You cleaned his bathroom, wiping and cleaning everything in the cabinet, placing all her lotions and perfume back in place before going on to clean the guest bathroom that you and Sarah used. You made his bed, changing the sheets before folding and placing the blanket she had used carefully on her side of the bed.
You folded the laundry and carefully stored them. The sheets and towels in the linen cabinet in the laundry room, his clothes placed alongside hers in their wardrobe, Sarah’s in hers, and yours in the small suitcase you had come to the house with, which was then pushed under the small single bed he had bought for you to sleep on in the nursery.
You stopped for lunch, something simple for you, something you prepped the night before for Sarah. You spent Sarah’s nap time reading one of the books you borrowed from the library, getting the things you needed for dinner out while you waited for Joel to come home. He usually took her to the park immediately when he got home, and you used that time to get a new book from the library a few streets over.
You enjoyed this time. This, and the gardening in the mornings. You loved that this was your time. For you, and only you. You enjoyed perusing the shelves for a new book to read. Enjoyed talking to Ike, the elderly librarian and his wife Tracy. Enjoyed the walk to the library, enjoyed the walk back, all excited to go on a new adventure when you read the book later.
You prepared dinner when you got home, climbing a small stool you brought in from the garden to get the plates and bowls, just as you did when putting them back after they dried. She was taller than you, and she placed them there. You served dinner when he and Sarah got back, and the routine repeated every day on the week days.
On Saturdays, Joel brought you and Sarah over to his and her parents’. They lived next door to each other. They were always happy to see you, and of course, elated to see Sarah. The three of you would spend the entire day there, him going fishing with his Dad and father in law, you with his Mom and mother in law and Sarah. You had breakfast, lunch and dinner together before going home, where his mothers taught you recipes that he liked. He brought you and Sarah to the farmer’s market on Sundays, getting whatever provisions you might need for the week, sometimes stopping at the ice cream place for a treat. He also brought you to gatherings, if there were any, his friends always more than happy to welcome you among them.
You loved the weekends. You loved that you had people to talk to. You loved that he talked to you on those days. You loved that you felt like a real wife, a real couple on those days. You savoured every minute of those days. Before you got back home and entered the house you lived in, the one you took care of, the one that had no sign of you anywhere, save for the small patch of garden in the far corner of the backyard.
The house where the only person who talked to you on a regular basis couldn’t form words yet. The house that you shared with a man who only talked to you when asking what you needed from the store. The man who only looked at you when there were others around, others who loved you, talked to you as if you mattered. The man who, in the beginning, only talked to you to correct you when you misplaced his wife’s décor and lotions, when you moved the plates and bowls to a lower shelf so you could get to them better, when he saw you take her blanket to wash, snatching it off your hands. The man who you heard cry himself to sleep for weeks after you moved in. The man who you could still sometimes hear cry himself to sleep every now and again.
The man you didn’t dare cross because your survival depended on him. The man who chopped down the tree in the garden when he came home one day to find that you had hung a makeshift swing on the branch, wanting to make it a place you could read at.
You pretended not to see him when you pass the cemetery on your way to and from the library, pretended to believe him when he told you early on he was taking Sarah to the park. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t do anything.
You knew your place.
You were thankful. You had escaped from your abusive father and made your way to the small town he lived in. You cleaned houses to make ends meet, renting a small room down the street from his parents and in law’s house. You helped them take care of Sarah when she came to live with them. They knew your history, they knew you could use a good life to leave your past behind. They liked you. Loved you. You knew they talked about this union amongst themselves before even talking to you. They wanted Sarah to be taken care of. You knew they had to coax him to even consider meeting you. She had been in his life since infancy. It wasn’t easy for him.
You knew he only married you because his parents and in laws asked him to. You also knew that he only agreed in the end because he couldn’t bear to be separated from Sarah, but going back and forth to his work place was not an option. You knew he only did it because he wanted Sarah to grow up with a mother and a father. You knew he only did it to make sure someone was home to take care of her house. So that someone was there to take care of her child. So that someone was there to take care of him.
You knew.
But you didn’t think it would be this lonely.
Almost a year passed. You lived your life as the lady of the house as you always had, going through the motions, thankful that you had a roof over your head, thankful for this happy little girl you had the privilege of taking care of every day, thankful for the groups of people who accepted you into their circle. The fact that the man you lived with did not was just a side story you did not want to think about.
He had warmed up to you, though, starting some simple conversations with you here and there. But otherwise, your life was pretty much the same as it was when you first moved in.
You were feeding Sarah one morning as he had his breakfast as usual. You got up to put her empty bowl in the sink, when you heard her say her first word.
“Mama.”
Your heart stopped beating. She called you Mama, her happy face smiling at you, her chubby arms splayed out, asking you to pick her up. You did, giving her so many kisses she squealed with laughter. You looked at Joel, happiness clearly written on your face.
But the face that was staring back at you was not a happy one. He screamed at you, accusing you of teaching Sarah the offensive word, that you were trying to push her out of his and Sarah’s lives. That it was not your place to do that. That there can only ever be one woman for him and it was the world’s greatest show of unfairness and tragedy that you were there to celebrate this happy day with him and not her. That you would get to see this perfect child that he made with her grow up, and not her. That you get to reap the benefits of her ultimate sacrifice to bring this beautiful little girl into the world while she rots in the ground.
He screamed at you until his face was red, until his voice cracked. He only stopped when Sarah started crying, snatching her away from you, taking her into his truck and driving away.
You stood in the kitchen, unable to move for a while. You then cleaned the kitchen up, before going into the backyard. You got on your knees and pulled out the flowers and herbs and veggies you planted, piled them into the firepit and burnt them all, raking the patch of soil you had previously used flat, trying hard to get it to look the way it did when you had first found it. You then went inside, got yourself ready for the day, took your suitcase out from under your bed, placed your simple wedding ring on your pillow and closed the door behind you, walking out of her house with the only, previously unseen traces of you.
**********
She knew immediately something was wrong. He came early today. And he was crying. Crying hard. He didn’t say anything. Just sat there for hours and cried himself hoarse. Sarah was crying too. But she could see that she wasn’t crying for her. That he wasn’t crying for her either, at least, not just for her. She could see how conflicted he was. He was inconsolable, one hand clutching an upset Sarah, the other on her headstone, sobbing his heart out.
He finally calmed down, Sarah asleep in his arms, having cried herself to exhaustion. He still hadn’t said a word, sitting cross-legged on the ground, a tired, blank look on his face.
“Sarah said her first word today.”
Her heart soared. Her baby girl spoke! She said her first word!
But… this was good news. Why was he so upset?
“It was Mama.”
Oh, she could fly right now.
“Annie. She was Mama, not you.”
Oh.
“She was so happy to hear Sarah say her first word. I screamed at her. I told her she would never be her Mama. I told her I wish you were here, and she was not.”
He began crying again, his shoulders shaking from his regret.
Yes, he regretted saying that. She could see.
A part of her wanted to be angry. Why was he so regretful of hurting your feelings? He promised her he would love her until death did them part.
“Death did part you, my dear,” the old lady, one of the people who wouldn’t leave her alone said. “You’re not here anymore, you shouldn’t be here anymore, you need to let him move on.”
No! Why should she? It’s not fair. How was it fair that she had to leave and you got to stay? She died giving Sarah life, why should you get to enjoy her? Why should you enjoy the results of her hard work? Sarah? Joel? The house? How was that fair?
“Go to the house, dear. You’ll see,” they all told her.
She followed him home when he finally picked himself up from the ground, walking like a zombie to his truck to go home. He walked into the house, struck by it’s silence.
She could see him panic. He placed Sarah in her crib, running around the house calling your name, getting more and more flustered the longer he did so, you nowhere to be seen. He went into the backyard, seeing the burnt remnants of some vegetations, going to the far end corner of the backyard, immediately getting on his knees, his hands on the obviously recently flattened soil, breaking down one more time, this time, she knew for sure that his heartbreak was not for her.
He went back into the house when Sarah cried, washing his hands, going to the fridge. He got a container out, emptying its contents into a pot, reheating it before getting Sarah from her crib. He soothed her, the little girl searching around for someone. He cried into her hair, telling her he was sorry, placing her in her chair before getting her food from the stove, feeding her with a forlorn look on his face.
He left Sarah with the neighbour, driving around town looking for you. She watched as he got more and more frustrated, the words ‘please, I’m sorry’ falling in whispers from his lips as his eyes roved around the public spaces. She watched as he called everyone he knew, asking them if you had dropped by, giving some excuse that you had planned to visit, and wondered if you had gone over that day, clearly disappointed when they told him they hadn’t seen you. She watched as he moped around the rest of the day, only coming to life whenever Sarah needed him.
He fell asleep in the nursery that night, crying himself to sleep on the single bed that wasn’t there when she lived here. He found the ring you left on your pillow, breaking down, placing the ring on his pinkie and clutched it to his heart, his face buried in your pillow. She was seething. How could he be that upset over you? The woman who stole the life she wanted with him. The life that was so unfairly snatched away from her. She would give anything to be here with him, with Sarah. To still be here. And here he was, moping around for you.
She left the nursery, looking around the house she had only lived in for two months before she had to leave.
And that’s when she noticed it.
With the exception of the bed Joel was now sleeping on, and the lack of tree in the backyard, the house was exactly the way she left it. She walked around, feeling as if she had never left. Everything was still there. Her clothes, her pictures, her products, her trinkets, everything still where they were.
“It’s as if she was never here,” the old lady said.
No, that’s not true, she thought at first. But… the old lady was right. There was no trace of you in the house, only her. You didn’t even sleep with him, you slept in the nursery. While there was a part of her that felt a sense of relief that he wasn’t sleeping with you, there was an unease in her heart at what things must have been like for you.
She thought of the things he told her he had said to you, what you must have felt to live in the shadows of her memory, doing everything a good mother and wife would do for Sarah and for him, only for him to say those things to you.
She wondered if she would have been okay with such treatment, if the situation was reversed. Would she had been okay living in a shrine for her husband’s late wife?
To her own surprise, she felt sad for you. She looked at the house you had been taking care of for the past year, only a few months after she passed. You had taken excellent care of it, better than she did, in fact. She looked at her baby girl, the little lady flourishing under your care, healthy and happy. So happy, so loved, she called you Mama. Because you were her Mama. You raised her, loved her, took care of her, kept her safe. She may have given birth to Sarah, but to her, you were her Mama, and she called you so, because that’s what she knew. And Joel, the man you married, the one who was supposed to love and care for you, chastised you for it, breaking your heart.
Because he hadn’t moved on from her.
“Because you wouldn’t let him, my dear,” the lady said. “It’s time for you to let him go. You need to let him move on, for his own good, for Sarah’s own good.”
She knew the old lady was right. And for the first time ever, she didn’t fight her words.
She laid next to him on that single bed, softly calling his name. He opened his eyes, smiling at her. He kissed her, tears in his eyes.
“Am I dreaming?”
She nodded.
“I miss you,” she told him.
“I miss you too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not letting you go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I need to. You need to move on. Go find Annie. Beg for her forgiveness.”
His tears fell. “I’m sorry. I fell for her. I didn’t mean to. I tried not to, I really did. It scared me. I’m so scared I will forget you. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want Sarah to forget you. When Sarah called her Mama…”
“Annie is her Mama,” she told him, her own tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m not here anymore, and I’m glad Annie is. She will take good care of Sarah, you know that. You can make sure Sarah remembers me, Annie will help, I know she will. She’s a good person, she won’t let you or Sarah forget me.”
He could only nod. She was right. You wouldn’t. You never did.
She missed this. Talking to him in bed.
“What happened to the tree in the backyard?”
“I cut it down.”
“Why?”
“You asked me to hang a swing there before, do you remember?”
She nodded, still confused.
“I came home about a week after I married her, and she had hung one. Wanted to use it as a reading spot. It was my one regret about you. That I didn’t hang that swing. And to see it when you didn’t have one just…”
“Joel…”
“I know.”
“This bed is creaky. Did you build this?”
“No, I bought it.”
“Why didn’t you build it?”
“I’ve only ever built things for you, I felt like I would be betraying you if I…”
“Honey…”
“I know… I know…”
“Don’t treat your wife like that, you didn’t treat me like that, why would you do that to her?” her tears fell, accepting that you were his wife now, not her. “Promise me you’ll treat her well?”
He nodded, taking her face in his hands, kissing her one more time. He wanted the moment to last forever, but his eyes wouldn’t stop closing, his head felt heavier and heavier.
“I love you Joel, I always will. I need to let you go for you to be happy. Let me go too, honey. Be free. Love again.”
Joel woke up the next day feeling as if the world was lifted off his shoulder. He got Sarah ready for the day and asked the neighbour to take her one more time while he ran some errands.
He came back an hour later with boxes, rolling his sleeves, opening the wardrobe he shared with her, taking her favourite dress out, hugging it for a while, before placing it in the first box.
**********
Two weeks later, you were choosing some apples at the grocery store for Ike and Tracy, they had nicely allowed you to stay at the in-law suite at their house while you figured out your next step. You’ve been helping him out at the library in the meantime, running his errands for him. You were just thinking of what to get him for his lunch when you heard someone call your name.
“Hi Annie! So good to see you back on your feet!”
It was Maddie, one of Joel’s closest friends.
“What do you mean?” you asked, wondering if Joel had told them what happened.
“Well, you missed Sunday brunch, Joel said you were down with the flu?”
Oh.
“Right, yes, I’m feeling much better.”
“Well, glad to see you up and about again. That man was miserable when you were down. Everyone was teasing him on Sunday, missing his wife like that when you were home sick!” she laughed, giving you a quick hug before leaving.
“Right,” you said to yourself. “He missed his wife.”
Too bad you were not the wife in question.
You walked back to the library, looking at the job application you had collected from the grocery store, the fruits and sandwiches you got in a bag on your shoulder, some light groceries in your hand. Maybe you could do this for a while and move on in a few months? Save some money to have a downpayment? The small savings you had while working back then wouldn’t last you that long, and you needed to make sure you would be okay for a while when you figure out what you were going to do.
You couldn’t stay here, not without running into people you knew.
Not without running into Joel.
You had been lying low, angry at yourself that you couldn’t even run far. The circumstances of your situation wouldn’t allow you too. You only went out in public when you knew he would be at work, just so you wouldn’t risk seeing him. Just so he wouldn’t yell at you again.
The thing was you understood why he was so angry. His wife, the love of his life, the mother of his child, died, and he wasn’t prepared to lose her. He would never see her again. You understood that - it was why you didn’t push. You understood that he needed time. He married you within a few months of her untimely death out of necessity. But that day, you realized just how much he wasn’t ready to have you in his life, despite the fact that you had been married for almost a year.
Much as you hate to admit it, much as you hated yourself for it, despite the way he treated you, you loved him. And by God you loved Sarah. But you had no place in their life, he wouldn’t let you have one in his life. So you needed to leave and find your own way.
And getting this job would be a good first step.
Just as you were approaching the library, someone took the groceries out of your hand.
“Joel.”
“Hi.”
You took a step back from him, not daring to look him in the eyes.
“Please don’t… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. At the time, I didn’t know why I did that…”
“I do,” you said.
He nodded, regret filling his features. He stayed where he was, unable to stand the way his heart lurched when you took a step back from him. He knew your history, and he yelled at you. He made you feel unsafe. He couldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see him again.
“Annie, I know why you left, I’m so sorry I treated you like that. I wasn’t ready, but I am now. Please, forgive me. I’m so sorry, Annie. Please.”
“Everything okay here?” Ike asked, coming out of the library.
“Uh, yeah, here, your lunch,” you said, handing him the bag. He took it, eyeing Joel. “It’s okay, I’ll be in in a minute,” you told him. He had been asking what happened between you and Joel, but you never said anything. You didn’t know why. Maybe you were ashamed, maybe you were stupid.
Ike went back inside but stayed visible, still eyeing Joel.
“How are you doing? Do you need anything?” he asked.
“I’m fine. How’s Sarah? Who’s looking after her?”
“Mrs Adler. Sarah’s not doing too well,” your body language shifted, “She’s healthy,” he quickly added, “She misses her Mama. And I miss my wife.”
You hesitantly smiled, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But I can’t bring your wife back from the dead, Joel. I’m sorry,” you said, taking the bag from his hand and turning to go into the library.
“It’s you,” he quickly said, his eyes filling with tears. You turned. “You are her Mama, you are my wife. You, not Laura. Please, can we talk?”
You didn’t know why, but you sat down on one of the benches in front of the library and waited for him to sit too.
“I never expected you to forget her, Joel. I know my place. I know you didn’t want to marry me. I showed Sarah her pictures every single day, telling her that’s her Mommy. I never wanted to take her place, and you didn’t hide the fact that you didn’t want me there either. I never expected you to. But I can’t stay knowing that you never will.”
“I do want you there. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready, it just felt like I was betraying her, like I’m cheating on her. And I worry every day that Sarah would grow up not knowing her. I didn’t want to feel like I’m replacing her. So when Sarah called you Mama…”
You nodded. It’s not like you didn’t know all this before.
“I donated all her stuff. Save for a few things, for Sarah to have one day, her pictures, her jewellery, a dress or two, but I gave everything else away. Please come back, come back home, Annie, I’ll build you a garden, a swing, a reading nook, that bird bath and feeder you always wanted, anything you want, just please come back. I miss you. I love you. I need you. Please.”
You were quiet. Too quiet. Joel could feel his heart break.
“I need some time to think it over,” you quietly said, eyes on your feet.
Joel could only nod defeatedly.
**********
A year later, you were carefully pushing a toothy, laughing Sarah on a swing set in the park, the little girl shockingly still full of energy after a whole day at the petting zoo. The sound of Joel’s truck made the little girl squeal with joy, scrambling to get out of the swing to get to him. You carefully released her from the swing and placed her on the ground, her little legs running wobblily towards her Daddy. He picked her up, and kissed her, smiling at you as you walked over with her bag in your hand.
“Hi,” he said, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Did you have fun with Mama?” he asked her, the little girl quickly launching into a babble of tales about a horse she rode that day.
“It’s a pony, and there were seatbelts,” you told him, passing him her bag.
“Ah,” he laughed, taking it from you. “Can I drop you off?” he asked, hopeful that he didn’t have to say goodbye to you yet.
“Nah, I’ll walk,” you said, giving Sarah a kiss. “I’ll see you in two days okay?” you and Joel both laughed as she raised three fingers, nodding. You followed them to his truck and waited as he strapped her into the car seat.
“Listen,” he said as he shut the door. “My parents are taking Sarah next weekend, I was wondering if you’ll go out with me? Friday? Maybe we can go to dinner?”
“Next Friday is Valentine's Day. Is this dinner a date?”
His ears turned pink, “Uh, it doesn’t have to be a date, if you’re not comfortable with that, we don’t have to call it that…”
“Joel.”
“Hmm?”
“We’re still married, you can ask me out for a date.”
“I can?” he asked, looking relieved and elated at the same time.
You nodded.
“Okay, uh, yeah. Annie, will you go out on a date with me?”
You smiled, got on your tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek.
“I thought you would never ask,” you said, turning away, your heart feeling like it was made of cotton candy.
Joel refrained himself from jumping with joy. He got in his truck, telling Sarah it was time to go home, Daddy needs to finish painting that reading nook he’d been building.
“For your Mama, when she comes home.”
@joelalorian @harriedandharassed @kirsteng42 @vickie5446
Tagging just because - let me know if you want out.
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller x you#tlou fanfiction
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fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod modern warfare#arthur morgan#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#john price#captain price#zaddy pedro#javier pena x reader#pedro pascal#frankie morales#narcos#soap cod#rdr2 arthur#red dead redemption 2#good omens#henry cavill#draco malfoy#love and deepspace
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Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: Joel won’t fit.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)
Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠
Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.
Word count: 2.3k
This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.
The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.
You, who were young enough to be his daughter.
You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.
You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.
But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.
“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”
It was simple.
“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”
And true.
The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.
“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.
Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.
Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.
It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.
“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.
“He’s so big.”
Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.
Again.
You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.
“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”
You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’
And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.
He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.
But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:
“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”
Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.
And his vision blurred more at that word, him.
“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”
Another quarter-inch.
“—so, so bad.”
“Daddy!”
Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.
You whimpered again.
“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”
Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.
“Honey, it’s—”
“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.
“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”
“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”
Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.
He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.
“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”
That made you go still.
You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.
“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”
You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.
“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”
You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.
“Be brave…and patient for me.”
From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.
Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.
Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.
It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.
“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.
With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.
“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”
His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.
“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.
“He’s so…” you trailed off.
You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.
“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.
“I know.”
This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.
“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”
“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”
“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”
Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.
Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”
Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.
“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”
Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.
“You think so, sweet pea?”
“I know so. I need it.”
“Need him?”
“Y-Yes.”
How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.
Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.
As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.
“Da-a-ddy. Please.”
You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.
Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:
“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”
It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.
So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.
Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.
“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.
His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.
“Daddy.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.
He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.
“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”
You shook your head. Cried a little more.
Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.
“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”
“Y-Yeah?”
His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.
Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.
“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”
It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.
“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.
“Say what?”
“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”
The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.
His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.
“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”
You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.
And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.
Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.
When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:
“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”
His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.
It was a small pulse, at first.
Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.
Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.
He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.
You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.
You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.
He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.
It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.
Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.
Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.
Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.
“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”
can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔
#I WROTE THIS IN A FUGUE STATE LISTENING TO KEITH WHITLEY#IF IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE IT’S PROBABLY JUST BC I’M SLEEP-DEPRIVED AND STUPID#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller tlou#the last of us fic
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‘tis the season || one shot
joel miller x f!reader



nothing new. nothing exciting. just some pwp. major shout out to my very freaky girl @dinandwhiskey, this fic was born due to our 4am conversations about fucking Our Old Man on viagra. and to my fellow ocean unicorn @joeloverture, for the encouragement, always. and to @pedrospatch, for being my eyes, and my biggest cheerleader, you have my heart. anyway – merry christmas eve eve & happy holidays ya filthy animals. may 2025 be ever so kind to you <33
pairing: dbf!joel x reader summary: you’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together. or, joel fucks you after taking viagra. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings: [no-outbreak au], implied age gap [no mention of ages but reader is in college], secret established long distance relationship [that’s a mouth full] [that’s what she said], drug use, joel miller on viagra is a beast, pet names [baby, darlin’, sweetheart, kiddo], sexualization of the terms kiddo & old man, [mocking] dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut that occurs off page [i.e: face-sitting, fingering, anal play, ass eating/rimming, a reach around handjob, f! & m! receiving oral], softdom!joel, unprotected piv, missionary, mating press, overstimulation [rip our girl she’s fighting for her life], dacryphilia, finger sucking, biting, smidge of a pain kink, creampie, squirting, joel fucks you while you’re on the phone with your father, mentions of christmas, (2) christmas puns [author apologizes in advance for said puns], probably [most likely] inaccurate and unrealistic descriptions to the effects of viagra [remember, this is fiction!!], omitting a few tags as to avoid spoilers!!, aaaaand lastly, they’re in love BYE! word count: 3.5k
masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs on when i post my writing!
“Just one more time, sweetheart.”
You don’t respond, tongue-tied. The agonizingly slow drag of his cock inside you is too much, your mind is a blur.
Joel’s been fucking you for hours. He’s made you come six times since you practically pranced through his front door. Twice on his face, once on his fingers, and three times on his cock. And now you’re overstimulated — cunt swollen and almost begging for relief — but Joel, driven by your high-pitched moans and strained whimpers, is unable to stop himself, working to make you come just one more fucking time.
It’s thanks to that stupid little blue pill his buddy slipped him that he’d been able to fuck you for this long.
In truth, he doesn’t need it. He never needs it. He fucks you perfectly fine without it. But you’re home for the holidays, and you haven’t seen him or come successfully on your own since the beginning of the fall term, and Joel wanted to take advantage of that.
Send you back fucked so full o’me you’ll feel me in here for weeks, he’d groaned.
Your drippy hole stretched out and clamped tight around the thick girth of him. It had been so long, your face contorted at the sharp sting, and a pained hiss escaped through his gritted teeth when he pushed the delicious fat tip of his cock past your puffy folds, splitting you in two.
The warm walls of your cunt pulse around his shaft, your clit throbs against the wet thatch of thick hairs stippled gray at his base. You’re too sensitive, too tender, cunt stinging with every long stroke, but not in the way it makes you want to use your safe word.
It’s just that Joel hasn’t let up. Two hours spent making you come and he hasn’t let up once. The only time he had given you some semblance of a break was when he got up, turned around, and sat on your face at your plea — your desire to show him how good he had made you feel all those times before.
His cock in your hand, weak fist tugging away at his length while you lathed away at the tight little hole in the crease between his ass cheeks. Even then, Joel couldn't help himself; shoved three thick fingers into your puffy pussy — timing the thrust of them to the desperate pumps of your joint fists — jacking his cock in unison while you writhed beneath him, pulling another climax from you.
Only when his sweaty thighs quivered around your body, chin tilted towards the ceiling and a stream of profanities poured from his lips, his body curling over yours as hot spurts of his cum painted your soft tummy when he felt your finger slipping past his puckered rim to the knuckle, had he given you a break.
“Attagirl, just like that. Pretty little pussy’s gonna cum all over me. C’mon, baby, give it to me,” Joel’s voice is thick with arousal as he rambles above you, his hips expertly rolling into yours, head of his cock nudging that place incompetent college boys have failed to reach.
“Joel—fuck—I don’t think I can—” You gasp frantically, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, arms wound tight around him.
He smirks with another deliberate roll of his hips. “Thought you said you could keep up. Isn’t that what you said? “Naw, I reckon you said, Try keeping up, old man, wasn’t that it?” He mocks, imitating your words from earlier. Fucking bastard.
A whimpering mess, your eyes pinch shut in response.
“I can’t—” you croak, fingernails digging into his shoulders.
Deft hands brush your hair back from your face. “You can. I know you can, baby.” His voice softer, barely audible through the wet smack of his balls, smeared in the evidence of your earlier release, firmly slapping against the curve of your ass. The sounds obscenely echoing through the quiet of his bedroom.
You whimper and try fruitlessly to nod. He knows you can, and he’s right. Your hips wouldn’t be grinding up off the mattress to meet his thrusts. You wouldn’t be feeling something roiling low in your belly.
“One more time, baby. Give me one more n’ I’ll let this sore little pussy rest,” he whispers, lips kissing away your salty tears.
You nod eagerly. His hand reaches up to the headboard, fingers curling around it and locking into place, his other removes one of yours from his shoulder, pins it to the pillow above your head. And with his hand clasping your damp palm, fingers squeezing then interlocking with yours, he fucks you harder.
The change in pace has tears spilling from your eyes and pooling into the shells of your ears. The wave swells, swells, swells —
Your phone screen lights up the dark room, buzzing on Joel’s nightstand.
You freeze, neck craning in the direction of the vibration, eyes squinting and damp lashes fluttering at the bright screen, Dad, it reads.
Shit.
You gaze back up at Joel, wide-eyed, panic surging in your chest. Joel growls. “Don’t answer.”
You don’t listen. You know your father, he’ll keep calling until you answer. Without saying another word, your hand comes up to the wooden surface in search of your phone. You take a few deep breaths, trying to quell the anxious heat swirling inside you, unplug your phone from the charger, slide a shaky thumb across the screen, and press the phone to the shell of your ear.
“Hey—” You clear your throat awkwardly, “Hey, Dad,” your voice breathy, tired.
You unstick your body from Joel’s, your free hand presses to his strong chest, a silent effort to halt his movements.
“Kid! I’m sorry to call you this late, but before you left for Eve’s, I forgot to let you know to be home in time for breakfast.”
Jesus. That could’ve been a text.
You sit up, scoot back into the pillows, while Joel sits back on his knees, wincing in unison as his cum-drenched cock slips out of your overflowing slit. Almost instantly, you feel a steady stream of his spend trickle out of your opening. He’d already managed to fill you to the brim three times tonight.
You fiddle with your bottom lip. “Breakfast? I thought we were just doing dinner.”
“Well, I thought since you’re only in town for a few days, we could go the whole nine yards. I missed our breakfasts together. I enjoy them, kid,” he says softly.
Your bleary eyes flick back to Joel. The smug grin that graces his lips and the gleam of something darker in his eyes don’t put you at ease. He’s up to something, as always.
You grumble, massaging your forehead. “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’ll be home by nine. Listen, I gotta—”
“Oh! Speakin’ of dinner, I was thinking of inviting Joel over,” your dad says, plainly.
Your heart stutters. “Joel? W-Why?”
The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches, dark eyes glimmer with mischief. Two heavy hands find your waist, and he’s sliding you back down towards him. Slow and suspicious, one of his hands finds your knee, and presses it flush to the mattress. You both watch as his other hand cups the back of your other knee, pushing it back down to match the other, exposing you to the sex-tainted air. With his eyes transfixed on the slow trickle of his spend, his hand then wraps around the base of his cock, tip lining up with your aching hole.
There it is.
“Poor guy has been asking about you, kid.” And Joel glides the head of his cock up and down your puffy seam, collecting your mixed juices on his tip then taps the heavy weight of it on your perked clit twice in quick succession; Joel smirks at the wet smack. You jolt, thighs attempting to clamp shut, his firm grip on your knee tightens, keeping you open for him.
You pinch your eyes closed and curse under your breath.
“What was that, honey?”
Your eyes snap open, and you scramble to recover, “N-nothing, I just–” You clear your throat again. “Sorry. What were you saying, Dad?”
Joel chuckles lowly as he leans forward on top of you, pressing his broad frame in on you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. Chest to chest, belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, tacky skin against tacky skin, once again as before. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and with his mouth at your other ear, his tongue darts out to lick at the salty droplet there before suckling ever so slightly on your flesh, you bite back a moan.
Your dad, oblivious to your current state, continues, “Oh— Joel’s been asking after you. Think he’s getting sick of your old man if I’m honest. He keeps telling me he misses having you around, always goin’ on about how you’ve grown up right before his eyes…”
He can hear him. You know he can by the feel of the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin, teeth grazing your carotid now. He lifts his head, dark gaze meeting yours while his massive hands cup your tits, caressing, squeezing, kneading, while muttering, Goddamn have you grown up.
Your cunt flutters around nothing, and you sigh into the phone; your dad doesn’t hear it through his rambling. You don’t register what he’s chatting away about because then, Joel’s nose nuzzles into your neck, traces a line up, up, up until his tongue snakes out and meets the curve of your earlobe. Licks the meat of it into his mouth and takes it between his teeth, your whimper cuts off into a moan when the bite turns sharp.
His fingers fiddle with your nipples. “Naughty little thing,” Joel taunts, warmth of his breath fanning across the hinge of your jaw, “You liked that?”
You keen and nod, his hand dips south between your bodies, wrapping around the base of his length, notches the too-wide cockhead at your too-small hole. You turn your head, pressing your mouth to the scruff of his beard, muffling the whine he elicits from you.
Joel pushes inside, takes a moment, and just to mess with you — he fucks his tip in and out of your drooling hole in small pulses — once, twice, thrice — teasing you, making you moan. He tilts his head, nosing your cheek, breath hot and voice deep, “Listen,” he commands.
Absentmindedly, you tilt your phone away from your ear, away from your dad’s mumblings. You strain your ears to obey him. In and out, in and out. The squelch of your sticky wet reverberates against the four walls of his bedroom as the blunt head of his cock moves in and out.
In. And out.
“Fuck,” you mutter, eyes flitting down to watch his cock impale you.
Your dad’s voice cuts in through the fog, redrawing your attention.
“Sweetie? You okay? What’s wrong?”
Your eyes widen. Shit. “I’m–I’m–fine, I– I j-just stubbed my toe. Dad, I really can’t t–” You stammer, and Joel chuckles lowly.
Your stuttering emboldens him, taking it as an invitation to torture you further, and with his lips against your ear, a breathy moan escapes from his lips as Joel feeds you his cock, slowly working himself back into your spent cunt. So painfully slow that he ensures you feel every ridge and every vein, and in turn, he feels every inch of your warm, velvet walls sucking him in as he eases himself into you. Used cunt clamped tight around him as you welcome him back in — inch by torturous inch.
He stills once he reaches resistance, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough that you taste copper, suppressing the moan climbing up your chest as his tip knocks your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush to your ass — finally bottoming out inside you.
He ruts into you once, tip bumps your cervix again — goading you, and you gasp in return, fingernails indenting his shoulder, half–moon crescents marking his skin. Beads of sweat roll off his forehead and onto your face, mixing with the warm tears now cascading down your face, and your tongue darts out to taste it. The flavor of him — his sweat, his musk — only feeds the dizzying blur that is your mind. But through the foggy haze and the lewd, wet slap of flesh against flesh, you think you can hear your dad saying, You really need to quit the habit of walking around in the dark, kiddo.
And you think you’re nodding, an endless litany of, yes, yeah–yeah slipping past your lips, as you rush your way through the phone call with your father, uncaring. Only interested in the shifts of Joel’s hips, slowly fucking into you in measured thrusts.
Joel tuts. “Such a dirty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ off while speakin’ to her daddy.” And your grip in his hair tightens, walls tensing in response. “Attagirl, keep squeezin’ me like that. You gonna show me just how naughty you are for me, hm? Gonna let me have it with him on the phone? Gonna cream all over my cock, naughty girl?”
You nod your head numbly, mouth dry and unable to speak with the tip of his cock prodding at the soft spot inside you on every languid stroke, hips swaying back and forth.
The wave begins to crest, and despite your eager nodding at Joel only a second prior, there’s no way in hell you’re really going to come on your boyfriend’s cock — your dad’s best friend — while on the phone with your father.
Your voice claws its way up your throat, “D-dad, I’m — mmm — sorry I really have to g–” You think your thumb presses the red button, but your phone slips from your hand, dropping to the carpet with a muffled thump, and it’s too late to check if you’ve fully hung up on him, and frankly, you’re too consumed by your lover to care.
Grinning with pride, Joel pulls back, cock halfway out of your pussy and your hands grasp at his shoulders.
“Joel— f-fuck–please,” you beg, your resolve melting.
He clicks his tongue. “Na-uh, try again.”
“D-d-daddy–please,” you whine.
“D-d-daddy,” he mocks above you. “Say it, pretty girl.” He knows, but he wants to hear you say it.
“Harder. Please, daddy–I–I wanna come, please, I wanna come,” you mewl, voice all whiny and petulant.
He says nothing. Without pulling out of you, his long fingers wrap around to grip the backs of your knees, pinning your thighs to your chest, knees to your shoulders, feet dangling in the air beside his beautiful head, folding you in half. Then, he moves to plant his feet flat on the mattress, propping himself up, hands on your thighs to steady himself.
You’re already a mewling, writhing mess underneath him as he fucks in and out of your wasted cunt — it doesn’t take much longer for you to get there. The air fills with sounds of the headboard hammering against the wall and filthy, sloppy sounds of where you two are connected as he bashes into you with arrant primal vigor.
The new angle has him hitting a point inside you, deeper than you ever thought to exist. And still — the wave doesn’t break. With his eyes locked on yours, you know he can tell. He can always tell. He’s made you scream his name enough times since the beginning of your many clandestine meetings last summer to know when you’re teetering on the edge. In need of more.
And for a moment, you think you can see it in him. Hazel eyes practically glint against the pale moonlight that spills into his bedroom. Joel bares his teeth in a cocky grin, his hand releases one of your thighs to cup your face, thumb parting your plush lips when he says, give it to me, kiddo, soak your old man’s cock.
Oh fuck.
Your eyelids flutter shut, your head falling back onto the pillows, hands clutching and pulling at tufts of his grizzled curls. Lips closing around his thumb wedged in your mouth; licking, sucking, biting into his flesh, as the crest finally breaks and washes over you, taking you under the rogue waves.
But Joel still doesn’t let up. One more time, my ass.
He’s insatiable. And he shows you just how insatiable he is when his thumb slips from your spit-smeared lips and reaches between your bodies, the pads of his fingers expertly thrum at your sensitive clit.
Your face twinges up at the intense, almost painful pressure as he pinches your clit between his index and middle fingers, hard. The swing of his hips speeds up, cock relentlessly beating your sore cunt. The sight of his girth, disappearing and reappearing as he pounds your pussy at a punishing pace, and his fingers twisting your swollen clit has your belly pulling taut and snapping within the same beat. With a broken shout of his name, you gush around the root of his cock, dripping down his balls. It’s warm and sticky when it seeps down, past your tight ring of muscle, soaking his blue sheets and turning them the shade of charcoal gray.
Joel coaxes you through your seventh–eighth toe-curling orgasm of the night. An endless stream of sweet nothings spills from him — good girl, that’s it, kiddo. I know, I know, it’s so much, I know – fuck– such a good fuckin’ girl, as he fucks you through it.
Your sloppy cunt clenches around him, and with his cock choked tight, deep within your bruised walls, he follows soon after. Growls raggedly as he unravels, and his own orgasm rolls through him, decking the hall of your weeping cunt with warm, milky ropes of cum for the fourth time tonight.
Joel collapses onto your sticky chest, placing open-mouthed kisses to your dampened face — your cheek, your nose, your forehead, while he pumps you full of his seed, abiding by his promise. And when he’s done, his sweaty forehead drops to yours for a moment. The waves now a steady ripple through your body as you come down.
After a moment, he lifts his head, and in retaliation for giving you what was possibly the best fuck of your life while on the phone with your father and nearly exposing your tryst, you bring one of his hands to your face, hollow your cheeks, and suck his thumb while looking up at him with wide and falsely innocent eyes.
He licks his lips but manages to pry his post-coital eyes away. Instead, his cum-soaked cock slips out of your tired, leaking cunt. When he leans back, you swallow a moan, catching sight of the aftermath of your many arousals in his pubic hair. Graying curls swimming in a pool of your combined releases that drips down his thighs. A thin strand of your shared pearlescent spend shines in the soft moonlight, stretching from his balls to your folds, still connecting the two of you as he pulls away.
Joel misses it, something else pulls his attention. His gaze shifts to the clock beside your head. A hint of a smirk passes over his lips.
“You’re lucky it’s Christmas, darlin’,” voice low, dangerous.
Your head snaps in the same direction. It’s past midnight. You smirk in turn and pull the comforter up to hide it.
You feel him shift over you, elbow popping loudly as he reaches for what he’s looking for before he moves to sit up beside you, back against the headboard. His hand pulls the comforter back down from your face, and you roll over and sit up on your knees to face him.
His other palm opens, wordlessly presenting you with a single twig of some plant. One with moss green, teardrop–shaped leaves and plump, round berries, waxy and opaque in color.
Mistletoe.
You take the meat of your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a laugh that threatens to bubble through you. Because of fucking course he would.
Though, the soft laugh is short-lived. His broad hand waves the mistletoe over him, but not where it should be. Your gaze follows the movement of his hand, and your mouth falls agape. Your eyes snap back up to Joel’s, and his wicked smirk broadens.
Joel Miller — naked as the day he was born and splayed on top of his messy sheets — dangles the mistletoe over his length, still hard as a rock and stirring in his other hand.
But it doesn’t stop there.
Beneath the mistletoe rests a lump of bright red and velvety felt; a fluffy white cuff rounds the brim, and a matching fuzzy white bobble hangs at the end of it.
A Santa hat perched jauntily on his cock.
You shut your mouth and swallow thickly, already feeling that familiar ache at the apex of your thighs, and you clench around emptiness, a stream of his seed dribbling out of your overstuffed cunt and further soiling his bedding.
“But it ain’t a Merry one till you give Santa's big sack a few kisses.”
#non i hope this was freaky enough#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller one shot#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#dbf!joel#dbf!joel x reader#dbf!joel smut#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#tw daddy kink#noelle's workshop
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This was a fun read! 🥵
And that last line?! 🤣😂

MILE HIGH CLUB
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak
Rating: 18+ | W/C: 3.3k
Summary: Joel has to fly out of state for the first time in his life and his nerves are frayed. Luckily, he finds a good distraction. You.
Tags: m!receiving oral, deep throating, public indecency, mention of drug use, blowjob on a plane basically, alcohol consumption, nervous old man joel
A/N: maybe i’m just into exhibitionism atp MASTERLIST
Like every other man, Joel Miller had his kryptonite.
It wasn’t the idea of never finding someone to settle with, despite countless attempts—he had his fair share of awkward dates and mind-fucking-numbingly repetitive conversations about what his favourite colour was.
And sure, it could have been having to deal with empty nest syndrome after Sarah moved out of state for college. The loneliness came as a cold wash, but he kept busy enough to avoid spiraling down the rabbit hole of a quiet home. Babysitting for Tommy or tending to work troubles was a rickety solution at best.
But no, that wasn’t enough to rattle the man.
It was the very fact that he was hours away from having to sit in a “flying death machine” as he eloquently phrased it, just so he could visit his daughter.
Joel had successfully gone forty one years of his life dodging air travel. The thought of sitting in a metal contraption, being flung through the skies made his stomach churn. He couldn’t care less about how safe it chalked up to be. A car? He could control. Walking? Reliable.
A plane? Definitely not. A paper airplane for grown-ups, that’s all it was.
The glaring fluorescent lights, nauseating sound of suitcases and tearful goodbyes wasn’t doing him any favours. Least of all the sleaze bag at the counter, who hadn’t even spared more than a couple seconds. Being seven hours early was overkill, but he’d figured it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Can’t let ya in yet. Come back in a few hours.”
A litany of curses left unsaid under his breath about “dumb rules” and “what’s the point of gettin’ here early if yer just gonna make me wait?”
He shuffles out of the line with the creaky luggage he had with him, finding himself a seat by the waiting lounge next to a girl reading from those gizmos he’d seen Sarah use last Thanksgiving. A scowl crept up his face.
Did they have to invent some gadget for reading, too? Wasn’t that free?
He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small black leather bound book. It was worn, the edges were scuffed and the pages slightly dog-eared—a testament to its’ use.
Licking the pad of his thumb, he flips through the pages. There in black ink, lay a list of instructions he prepared prior to coming here. Misspellings here and there—chicken scratch, really.
1) checkin n’ give bags to airport
“Already screwed that one up,” he mutters out loud, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the growing aches.
2) go to gate no. on tikket
Joel peels out the airline pass tucked into his passport and squints at the printed words. “Christ.” He clicks his pen and painstakingly copies the details into his notebook in block letters big enough to read from across the room. “Tiny ass fuckin’...printin’...”
“Don’t travel much?”
Your voice breaks through the haze of uncertainty that had been plaguing him. Joel doesn’t offer more than a quick glance at first, his grip tightening slightly around the pen in his hand.
When he does look at you. You’d made him do a double take.
Despite the sorry state of his dating life–or maybe because of it–Joel wasn’t immune to the kind of attention a pretty thing like you could command. Even if it was just your attempt to be polite. His gaze then falls in disdain to your kindle laying abandoned in your lap.
“Not really, darlin’,” he says, his voice low and rough, with just enough warmth to take the edge off his typical gruffness.
Joel wasn’t big on small-talk, so when silence settled between you both, he didn’t feel the need to fill it. He wasn’t entirely sure why your presence had eased his nerves, even just a fraction, but it had.
And then you spoke up again, your tone uncertain but laced with quiet hope.
“There’s a lounge in the back with a bar,” you begin, tipping your head towards it. “Might be more your speed.”
Joel follows the motion with his eyes, then huffs a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “Man after my own heart,” he tucks his notebook back into his pocket.
Maybe it wasn’t all too bad that your dad dropped you off at the airport hours too early.
When you’d first seen Joel, you’d nearly dropped your kindle. The heavy thud of his boots on the polished floor caught your attention. You slowly pulled your gaze upward–from the worn blue jeans to the faded grey t-shirt that did nothing to hide his strong forearms. His dark brown curls looked like they’d been through more than their fair share of rough mornings, but god did you want to run your fingers through them.
And then there was his scruffy beard–uneven in an endearing way that somehow made him even more pleasing to the eyes. You blinked, forcing yourself to look back at your screen, but the words blurred into nothingness. The way he sat stiffly on the chairs he made seem so small, down to what seemed to be a checklist for his flight.
“I’m pretty sure more people have died on construction sites than flights, Joel.”
Joel.
Introductions came easy the second the whiskey infiltrated his system, and damn if he didn’t he love the way his name rolled off your tongue.
He drags a palm down his jaw, a dry scoff slipping past his lips. “This your idea of makin’ me feel better ’bout all this?” he counters, half-regretting that he’d let slip what he did for a living.
You weren’t wrong, of course–he’d faced far more dangerous situations on the ground than he’d ever likely encounter in the air.
Still, it didn’t help.
“I ain’t sayin’ m’gonna piss my goddamn pants,” he muttered, shifting in his seat. “Just makes me feel queasy, s’all.”
Joel sighs into the crystal glass, thumb idly tracing the rim as if the whiskey might’ve given him some courage. When he glanced your way again, you were watching him with that look–the one that made him feel exposed and oddly at ease all at once.
He shot you a faint glare, more bark than bite, and nodded toward your drink.
“Drink your goddamn kiddy juice,” he grumbled.
Your lips curled up into a slight scowl, cupping your glass of bellini defensively. Despite your show of annoyance, you did feel a tinge of empathy for him. For crying out loud, he was hunched over the goddamn bar seat, looking at his empty glass like a kicked puppy like he was about to go for a vasectomy or something.
Gesturing towards the bartender for a refill of his glass, you dragged your bar stool closer to him.
“Look. If you’re up for it. I’ve got a little pick-me-up I take to settle my nerves before a long flight,” you said, fishing a small pill container from your bag. “Works like a charm.”
Joel’s eyes narrowed, his interest piqued despite his better judgement. But the second you popped open the lid, his reaction was instant.
“Hard pass.”
“You don’t even know what it–”
“I ain’t about to get drugged up,” he cut in, folding his arms. Your eyes shamelessly trace over the way the sleeves tightened around his biceps. “And besides, I hardly know ya.”
Your lips pressed into a thin line and without missing a beat, you tipped one of the white pills into your palm and dry swallowed it like a pro. Joel’s brow furrowed deeper, his disapproval practically radiating off him. Though that notion had him adjust his jeans discreetly.
“Well, it’s your funeral,” you said with a shrug. Then realizing how that might’ve come across, you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Figuratively speaking! Not literally–”
“Gimmie that damn thing,” Joel huffed, snatching the container from you. He popped the pill into his mouth and chased it with a gulp of whiskey, muttering something under his breath about regrettin’ this already.
You leaned back in your seat, a sly grin tugging at your lips. “You didn’t even ask what it does.”
Joel fixed you with a hard glare, the kind that could silence most people. But you weren’t most people.
“It also gives you a raging erecti–”
“Sweetheart.” Joel’s warning tone cut you off, his glare piercing.
You couldn’t help it–you laughed anyway, the sound earning a reluctant lop-sided smirk from him as he shook his head.
In all his years of living, Joel never thought he’d succumb to relying on drugs.
The idea was irresponsible at best. He’d pride himself on staying clear-headed, the occasional joint in his teenage years being the closest he’d come to experimentation. But that was a lifetime ago, a glimpse of a boy who didn’t have responsibilities or a family to think about. His body was a temple now, for at least a semi-respectable contractor.
Yet here he was, in the fluorescent purgatory of a transit hall, deciding that a four hour stint in a “metal coffin” justified drastic measures.
Your vague explanation on what that little white pill of yours was didn’t help either. You both agreed you were in this together now. He had to admit that it was ironic where life took him. Misery loved company, and you, his current “drug buddy,” were far easier on the eyes than his high school crowd had ever been.
And, well, it worked.
Joel could feel the change, his mind easing from the coiled tension it had been gripping since he set foot in the airport. His inhibitions, usually locked tighter than the pentagon, were suddenly looser. Not reckless, but freer.
If you’d thought Joel wasn’t the clingy type before, that illusion was thoroughly shattered now. He shadowed your every move, from hauling your luggage onto the conveyor belt without you even asking to tapping his card at the terminal before you could pay for yourself.
And then…there were his hands.
At first, they lingered tentatively–a brush of his palm at the small of your back, a quick touch to your arm as he gestured to something in the duty-free window. Testing boundaries. Waiting for a sign.
When you looped your arm through his without hesitation, Joel took it as his green light.
After that point on, his touches became a constant presence. Steady, warm & grounding. A hand resting lightly on your hip as you wandered through the departure hall, fingers curling against your wrist as he guided you through the crowds of travellers.
Joel fully blamed the pill for his current lapse of judgment.
He spit into his palms, smearing the wetness onto the length of his cock. His other hand gripped firmly onto the granite counter. The dull slaps of him fucking his fist filled the small space. Along with his strained grunts.
“C’mon, c’mon…”
Trying damned hard to focus—he thinks of you. How your body felt under the weight of his hands. The way you’d wet your lips before giving your own witty remark to his rants about shit he found ridiculous about Delta.
And he jolts, instinctively tightening his grip around his cock when the announcement rings in the speaker above—some bullshit safety reminder.
“Shit—…shit shit.” He mutters. Willing himself to come so he’d put himself out of his self made torture.
Joel was rock fucking hard the second he seated himself by the back of the plane. Thoughts of the way you’d smiled up at him & rubbing his arm before heading to your seat up front was enough ammo for him to daydream about you for the next hour.
He did think you were joking earlier. But this could very well be the side effect of whatever you’d given him.
Nevertheless, it was pointless. The sterile bathroom was doing nothing but turning him off.
With an annoyed sigh. He’d shucked his half limp cock back into his jeans. Thoroughly scrubbing his hands clean before he heads back to his seat.
He stops short, brows quirked at the intruder.
“Howdy. How ya holding up.”
You grinned. Lowering the latest issue of Baseball Digest that Joel was occupied with from where it covered your face.
“I’m—…what are you…doin’ back here.” He manages. Cursing himself for sounding way off.
“Flight‘s pretty empty, so…Donna did me a solid.”
Joel briefly glances up at the flight attendant that you did a little finger wave to before looking back, nudging his head to the vacant seat next to you. “Scoot over.”
“Jesus. Thought you’d be happy to see me.”
Yeah. I was. And I tried to jerk off to you too, not that it worked out.
“So that I can be tormented for the next three hours?”
You frowned at his words. Flipping through the magazine loudly. “Someone’s panties are in a bunch.”
He exhales as he sinks into his rightful seat. Thankfully, the shock of seeing your face again did a number to deflate Junior Miller.
The combination of turbulence and drinking two glasses of whiskey earlier was a nasty concoction. He thumbs eases the crease between his brows before finally deciding to speak, ignoring your earlier comment.
“Bout’ the side effect you mentioned…”
That causes you to tip your head towards him. You were silent, briefly.
“What about it?”
“…How long does it…last.”
You looked to the side. “Just for a bit.” Though you sounded unsure of yourself. “Why?”
“Nothin’. Suppose I’m gettin’ one of those weird reactions to it.”
“Weird how.” You pressed. Though Joel looked less than pleased about your probing. “Don’t gotta explain it to ya. S��just weird, darlin’.”
You get the memo regardless.
“Well did you try to—“
“I did.”
“And you didn’t—“
“No.”
“You sure you were doing it correctly?”
Joel drags his hand down his face, letting out a muffled, yet pained scoff before he looks at you. He doesn’t speak yet for a couple of seconds.
“Yes, sweetheart. I know how to fuckin’ jerk off.”
Your lips pressed into a taut line. His words stirred something deep in you, fuck if it didn’t make you want to do something stupid right now.
“Obviously you don’t. Wouldn’t be sitting here all wound up if you had.”
Joel’s lips part to shoot something snarky your way.
It’s quickly floored when he feels your fingertips trace past the sides of his thighs.
You look at him. Offering him an opportunity to pull away.
He adjusts his hips to shift lower. A firm tug on your wrist ground your palm directly onto the bulge of his jeans.
A shaky exhale leaves his lips when you knead against his hard on. Tipping his head back onto the headrest. He lets out a soft grunt escaping his lips as you continued your ministrations.
“Feels…real good.” He manages. Barely being able to look at you.
Fuck. You were so warm and you smelled so good. He couldn’t remember the last time he had something that he wanted real bad.
“Told ya, not doing it right.” You leaned in close enough for your cheeks to rest against his bicep. Watching how his grip around your wrists began to falter.
Joel’s breathing became a little more ragged as he started to become more and more pent up with each rub.
With a conspicuous sniffle, you dragged the zipper of his jeans down, earning a jolt from him. He whips his head to look at you as you maneuver his stiffened cock out of his boxers.
Locking your gaze with his, you provide a calming kiss to the edge of his shoulder before you lower yourself.
“Christ. Are you crazy?”
Joel lifts his gaze to scan the surroundings. Considering it was an evening flight, the dimmed overhead lighting provided a more intimate and gentle glow.
The absence of attendants who were likely resting up front, and the emptiness of the last five rows does provide him assurance, even when it shouldn’t have.
He lets out a hiss at a wet glob of saliva trickle down his shaft, stealing his focus once more. Followed by the softness of a smaller pair of hands pumping the wetness up and down.
You feel a strong hand gather your hair up loosely, before the fingertips entangles firmly through to hold your head in place.
He tugs you to meet his gaze momentarily. Eyeing your soft features being reflected with the amber mood lighting.
“Can I?”
You bit the insides of your cheeks. Realising what he’d meant. You nod slowly, kissing the tip of his weeping cock.
“Tap me twice if it’s t’much.”
He mutters with a gentleness that had you rubbing your thighs together, the slick wetness growing in your cunt.
You take him into his mouth fully this time. Feeling his hips jump up involuntarily. The tug on your head encourages you to continue.
“Ah..fuck. Fuck.”
Joel grinds his jaw at a painful intensity. The warmth and wetness of your mouth hollowing around his cockhead was intoxicating. He had to physically control himself from thrusting into your mouth too quickly.
The noises that rumbled from his throat spurs you on. You alternate between deep sucks through your hollowed mouth and stroking his cock. Though the hand holding your head became more of a weak hold than a guide.
You caught the hesitance in his actions. Treating you so damn gently as though you would break. It frustrated you, so you abruptly lowered yourself until you practically swallowed him whole. Nose grinding against the denim.
It catches the both of you off guard.
Joel, nearly lets out a fucking groan at the warmth of your throat convulse around his cock. And you, with your thumb digging into your fists to control your gag reflex.
That was enough for Joel to snap.
His grip around your hair goes taut. “Tap me.” He reminds, before he properly fucks his cock into your throat at an almost brutal pace.
You choked for a couple of seconds, the warm tears pricking your eyes as you gripped tightly over his thigh—essentially using your mouth as his personal fleshlight.
Letting out strained grunts as he quickened his pace, you taste the salty mixture of your tears and saliva. Joel doesn’t let himself go just yet, keeping the rational part of him awake in case you couldn’t take it, which in fairness—most women couldn’t.
But you? You took it like a fuckin’ champ.
You pulled away from his cock with a pop, letting a string of saliva follow as you dragged your lips down to his balls, giving one of them a sloppy suck as much as your mouth could fit before taking his cock into your throat.
Joel shudders at the sensation, It doesn’t take long before his hips stutter, spurting his hot, thick come into your throat.
He pulls you off him with a gentle tug, catching sight of your tear stricken face, lips pouty and reddened.
Joel groans at how pretty you looked like this.
He glances towards the bathroom behind them and back at the serenity of the moonlight illuminating inside the plane as he hastily tucks himself back in.
With a firm hold, he hoists you up underneath your arms to guide you into the cramped stall with him.
“You okay, honey?” He practically whispers. Thumb swiping the strands of your hair that stuck to your sweaty cheeks, tucking them behind your ears.
“Y…eah.” You managed. Voice coming out raspy. His dark brown gaze held nothing but concern for you.
A lazy smile graces your features. You stabilise yourself with Joel’s arms. He doesn’t hesitate as he leans in to lock his lips with yours.
“We can go back. Or continue. Whatever you want.” The gentle curve of nose comes to rub against your cheeks, though you could tell by the twitch of his cock that he was far from done.
You bit down on your lips. Hands travelling lower to let the sharp sound of Joel’s buckle give you the answer he needed.
As you flip over to lean against the counter with your palms flat on the granite—your cheeks presses against your shoulder to gaze up at him through your lashes.
“By the way…that pill I gave you? Just Vitamin C.”
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𖥔 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐏 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𖥔
⊹ he’s been so sleepy when he comes home lately so you decide to wake him up with a nice surprise
⊹ you were being a brat all day so he takes it upon himself to teach you a lesson
⊹ date nights with joel always end with sloppy drunk sex where you’re literally fumbling all over each other
⊹ joel is a certified munch king so whenever he’s eating you out you see literal stars
⊹ needing to fuck pre-outbreak!joel before he goes to work every morning because you know you’re gonna miss him too much
⊹ he loves watching you get on top, all pretty and drunk on his dick as your ride him flawlessly
⊹ whenever joel comes over you never leave the bedroom
⊹ best friend!joel and you get drunk one night and he thinks you’re looking a little too good
⊹ you lose a bet to joel and now he gets to fuck you
⊹ he loves watching the way his cock disappears when he wants to shut you up for being mouthy all day
⊹ joel loves making you all needy for his cock
⊹ you’ve been so needy for him all day that you greet him on the kitchen counter like this
⊹ giving post outbreak!joel a blowjob
⊹ having a quickie while he comes home for lunch aka you
#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩#— 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 ᡣ𐭩#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller imagine#joel miller imagines#joel miller concept#joel miller concepts#joel miller headcanon#joel miller smut#— 𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 .ᐟ
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Give up
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader
Summary: Once again you've found an excuse to invite your neighbor over, except for once you might be able to make him look past your age difference and have a little fun.
Warnings: big ass unspecified age gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie and he's nervous and he's not so very sure about this bc of how old he is + he's out of practice. smut| oral (m and f receiving) and swallowing you know what. sub!Joel vibez all around
Pt. 2
This wasn't anything new.
The fact that he was coming over wasn't at all surprising to either of you.
You always found a way to be around him, and no matter how he ignored your every attempt at flirting- he never said no.
It had taken all of two minutes.
You'd knocked on his door, your best little skirt and tight little top on, and faked a pout as you told him:
"There's something wrong with the shower again Mr. Miller"
To his defense, Joel really tried not to stare at your ass as you walked right in front of him to guide him to your house, but that fucking skirt seemed more of a joke than anything.
You both knew there was nothing wrong with your shower, the switch that granted the hot water had just mysteriously turned itself off once again.
This had been going on for months now, since he first arrived in Jackson... since you knocked at his door that one chilly morning to introduce yourself to your new neighbor-
All it took was one look, and you were hooked.
He was gonna be yours.
"there- 's hot" he nodded, shutting the water off once he'd made sure it worked properly again, before drying his hands on his pants.
"thank you so much Joel" you smiled wider than necessary "What can I do to thank you?"
And no, you didn't even try to make your words not sound dirty, quite the opposite actually.
He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking from yours in a nervous shift.
You always did that- had this annoying effect on him.
"'s nothing darlin'" he shook his head, "didn't even take five minutes"
"Still- I feel like I owe you," you said, biting down a smirk
Shitshitshit
"How 'bout some cake?" you suggested just as he was about to have a stroke.
"sounds good"
__ __ __
"'s real good darlin'"
"thank you" you smiled happily, watching him clear his plate in under a minute
Yeah... you were a great baker, what can I say
"you want another slice?"
"You spoil me sugar," he laughed, patting his belly "I can't"
"alright" You couldn't help but softly laugh as you placed his plate in the sink.
You caught him looking away just as you turned around, which made you smile to yourself, a smile that only widened when you noticed the chocolate on the corner of his mouth.
"Oh Joel"
"Mh?"
You sat beside him at the table, your legs brushing against one another as you leaned closer.
"You've got something... right here"
You swiped the chocolate off with your pointer finger, making a show of popping it into your mouth to clean it.
His eyes remained transfixed on you as your tongue licked your digit clean until you were finally done with a loud pop.
"Jesus"
"What?" you smirked, knowing exactly what "that gave you some ideas?"
"babygirl-" he stopped you immediately, shaking his head
"Oh c'mon Joel" you pouted, your hand going to rest on his forearm "What's a girl gotta do to get you to give up?"
He blinked, looking at you intently and nervously altogether.
"Why do ya even care about an old man like me sweetie?"
You couldn't help but laugh "Have you ever looked in a mirror, Joel?"
You swore you saw pink flood his cheeks- the man was blushing.
"Plus you're kind... and funny when you want to.... and you make me feel-" you bit your lip, trying to find the right word "safe... you make me feel safe"
He scratched his beard, but you couldn't help but notice he hadn't used the arm your hand was still on.
"'m sure there's boys here that are funnier and kinder and make you feel even safer babygirl" he spoke gently "Pretty sure most of them are prayin' you give 'em a chance actually"
You hummed, raising a brow
"but what if I don't want them?"
"You want an old man instead?" he huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.
You rolled your eyes "How old even are you?"
"old enough to be your father darlin'"
God, maybe there was something wrong with you, but those words only made your need for him burn harder.
"so?"
"so I ain't even supposed to look your way babygirl- it ain't right"
"But why?" you pouted "Shouldn't I get to have a say in what's right and wrong for me?"
He sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that.
"What if I don't care?" you spoke softly, your pointer finger on his chest, circling his pec "What if I like you, Joel? what if I wanted to show you just how much right now?"
"sweetheart" he started, shaking his head
"You'd stop me?"
And there it was, the pause... your way in.
"Joel?" you called for him, your voice sickly sweet "Would you?"
He couldn't do anything but tell the truth when you were looking at him like that.
"I don't think any man in his right mind could or would ever stop you darlin'"
Satisfaction took over your whole body.
"no?" you teased, grinning like a cat "Not even if he's old enough to be my father?"
He sighed, what looked like resignation in his eyes.
"I'm just a man sweetheart"
And that- that got him the biggest smirk ever known to man.
There was no sound, it was like the word got quiet as you stood up, placed your hands on his thighs, and slowly kneeled between his legs.
He didn't know what to do, he was genuinely frozen, torn between guilt and attraction, the need to let go, to finally do this- that his brain was short-circuiting.
You took advantage of his silence, making quick work of his zipper, and pulling down his boxers just enough to free his cock...
All your speculations got proven right there- he was huge.
"oh wow," you bit down a grin as you watched your fingers struggle to wrap around his whole base.
You gave him a tentative squeeze, and the strained groan rumbling from his chest was just about the hottest thing you'd ever heard.
"y-you- f-fuck"
You stopped him before he could start protesting, your tongue sliding slowly on his tip before leaving a little kiss right on top.
"You're so big" you hummed, your tongue licking him up from base to head, feeling every vein and twitch of his member.
He was looking down at you just as you looked at him, and he seemed... mesmerized, like he couldn't believe this was really happening, that this wasn't another one of the dreams he'd get about you at night, and that it was really your lips wrapping around him.
Goddamnit
You had barely a little more than his tip in your mouth and he was already gone- and I mean gone gone.
He couldn't even remember why he'd spent so long ignoring your not-so-subtle hints-
Just a minute ago he wanted to tell you that no, you don't gotta do that, and ask you sure about this? - But now... now all he could do was throw his head back as he realized that his lack of practice these past few years had really gotten to him, and that he already had to grab at the chair beneath him with all his strength as he tried not to come embarrassingly fast.
You hummed around his cock, and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting upwards, a small choking sound fleeing your throat.
"goddamnit, 'm sorry baby-"
But the moment he looked down at you, he saw everything but anger... you seemed happy- you were begging him to do it again with your eyes.
But he couldn't, and part of you already knew that.
He shook his head slowly, still trying to think as straight as he could given the situation, but while he was busy with that... you settled for the next best thing... you forced his manhood down your throat all on your own.
The groan he let out was damn near feral.
You couldn't actually get all of it down there, it was the biggest dick you'd ever seen in your life after all, but you swore that with a little bit of practice (that he'd hopefully grant you), you'd get there.
Still, he didn't really seem bothered or in any way disappointed by your inability.
It was an indescribable feeling seeing this tough, rugged man shiver with pleasure before you, his eyes shut and knuckles white with the effort of gripping onto something.
"I- fuck"
He didn't even know what he wanted to say, he just... it felt so fucking good
Your head was back on bobbing up and down his length, and what used to be groans had turned to moans coming out of his mouth.
"Y-you've gotta-" he swallowed, his sentence interrupted by the feeling of your fingers playing with his balls.
"Y-you've got t-" to stop
But you were choking on his girth again
"I-'m gonna-" come
You watched him struggle with his words, his breathing, and his self-control with what would have been a huge smirk on your face if your mouth hadn't been so preoccupied.
You knew he was about to come already, it really wasn't hard to understand,
You also knew that if you stopped now there was a chance you'd get to do more later- but really, this was something too perfect to leave halfway done, and besides... you feared that if you went with your initial plan of straddling his lap and riding the man to heaven, you'd leave him traumatized.
So you didn't stop, you kept massaging his balls as you worked his dick in and out your mouth, ever so often forcing him as deep as you could and choking while drool and saliva dripped down your chin.
"J-Jesus, sweetheart- I-"
All his words came out in rugged breaths, barely coherent- his eyes were back on you, shadows of lust and need darkening his iris as his right hand went to your cheek, a gesture almost too sweet considering what you were doing.
"F-fuck"
And that was it.
He groaned so loud you probably could hear him from outside the house as he reached his climax, rope after rope of his come filling your mouth and throat.
Joel Miller had come in your mouth... and it couldn't have been any more perfect.
You didn't take your eyes off him for one second. You greedily swallowed all his spent as he breathed heavily, eyes still closed.
His dick was softening in your hand as you pulled his boxers back on top of it, a little wave of disappointment washing over your gut.
It's ok, I'll see it again soon
Just as you were plotting exactly how you were gonna get in his pants in the future, his voice startled you
"I-I don't know what to say"
A soft smile pulled at your lips
"You don't have to say anything" you reassured him as you sat back on your chair, your eyes inevitably falling back to where his boxers peeked from the unfasted fly.
"now- I won't keep you hostage any longer, 'm sure you have important stuff to do back at your house"
The frowns on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows came together in confusion.
"What?"
Now you were confused.
"I'm just saying- thank you for... this" You bit down a smile "You know how long I've been wanting it- and you can bet your ass we're doing it and more, again and again, and again" his eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount and you had to stifle a laugh "but... I'm letting you free for tonight"
He took his time to say something.
Silence wrapped around you for a good minute before he was able to mumble something.
"sweetheart-" he cleared his throat to try and clear his thoughts "I-I dunno how you're used to... bein' treated, but this ain't over"
A spark of excitement ignited in your belly
He couldn't mean...
"unless you want it to be, of course"
Oh my
"I definitely don't want it to be" you hastily spoke, almost breathless "but I would like to know what you... mean"
I mean, not to be prejudiced, but you very much doubted he could get it up again so quickly given his... well, age.
He cleared his throat again and you finally realized it was just a nervous tic and he didn't actually feel the need to.
"You should be on a bed" he avoided your question
You couldn't help but smile as you got up
"Such a gentleman"
"that's the last word that comes to mind right now" was all he grumbled
__ __ __
"sit"
that's all he said, and now there you were, sitting on your bed as he looked at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty.
Until he finally did it- he crouched between your legs.
He cleared his throat again, and you felt on the urge of cumbusting.
he was gonna eat you out
You'd only ever done this once, and even then you had to basically beg the guy, just for him to be god-awful at it.
Somehow you had a feeling Joel wasn't gonna be bad at all.
"You sure about this, yeah?"
You fought the urge to roll your eyes.
He could probably ask you to put it up your ass and you'd say yes.
"Yes Joel, I'm 100% positive"
He gave you a little nod, and his hands- his big, strong hands- went to your thighs.
You watched him as if he'd disappear at any moment as he slowly- oh so very slowly- took your skirt off.
He swallowed tightly as his eyes fell on your clothed cunt.
If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was holding his breath as he got rid of your panties.
"Jesus Christ"
I shouldn't be doing this- I really shouldn't be fucking doing this.
She's not even half my age- she's a kid for god's sake- I'm fucking disgustin-
Every single thought in his mind turned to dust the moment you spread your legs- the moment your wet, drenched, pussy came fully into view.
"Y-you-"
he didn't even remember what he wanted to say- and he didn't remember when his thumb had decided to find your folds, but it had.
He heard a whimper leave your mouth and he felt his cock twitch in his pants, hardening again.
It usually took him a whole fucking hour to get hard again
He looked up at you, and you looked hotter than ever before.
Your cheeks were flushed, your bottom lip was between your teeth, and you looked so... perfect.
"I haven't done this in a- while"
As he spoke those words he hoped you'd think he only meant this... as if you'd actually care about how he hadn't gotten laid in years.
"'s ok Joel" you nodded, smiling encouragingly.
He swallowed again, his gaze slowly lowering.
He couldn't believe you were this wet for him- a pretty thing like you.
His thumb moved, gently sliding up and up and up, until he found your clit, earning another little moan.
Fuck
He circled the little bud, and your cries got a little higher and he swore- he swore going to hell was worth it, worth this.
He had to taste you- fuck, he'd been dreaming about the taste of you since he first saw you- So with all the carefulness in the word, he bent down, his lips finding your soft thighs.
He could see your belly inflate and deflate with your exited breaths as he kissed his way closer and closer to your heat, until he was right there, and he couldn't help but leave a kiss on your mound, on the hair covering it so very nicely.
"Joel-" your voice was strangled "please"
If it had been twenty years ago he would have said something cocky like "'s ok baby, it's coming", his whole demeanor would have been very different too. He used to be in charge in the bedroom, always- he used to feel smug and sure of himself, but now... now he was old and out of practice, and he was... he was nervous.
But all it took was to look up at you, at those beautiful pleading eyes, to find the courage.
You wanted this. You wanted him.
And you tasted better than he could have ever fucking imagined.
A deep, feral groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue passed between your folds, as he gathered all your slickness on his taste buds, all that sweet sweet juice that felt like fucking heaven.
Yeah, now I remember why I used to love this so much
You were moaning like a desperate little thing above him, your thighs squeezing his face as your feet clung to his torso.
And he was gripping the outside of your legs, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible, his face as deep in your core as it would go.
His nose was rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars, and he was still lapping, not focusing on anywhere in particular, just aimlessly and desperately feeding off of you.
"Oh my god Joel-" you gasped as two of his fingers found their way inside of you.
His movements were slow, he didn't wanna hurt you, and he wanted to find what made you feel good, which is why he kept exploring until his digits curled up into that sweet cushy part of you, and he felt you squeeze him as you threw your head back.
"f-fuck!"
Your left hand had traveled to his locks, gripping them tightly as your hips frantically moved against his face to try and seek more.
His mouth was focusing only on your clit now, thoroughly sucking on it- and just when you thought this couldn't get any better, that this was the most pleasure you'd ever experienced and there was no way he would be able to top this- another one of his big, thick fingers pushed into you.
The cry you let out was something Joel would be thinking of until he was six feet under.
Three of his fingers were so much more than what you were used to.
"J-Joel" you whimpered actual tears staining your vision as you looked down at him "Oh my fucking g-god Joel"
Your gut had been right. He was really fucking good at this
He was watching you, studying every little face you made as the squelching of his fingers moving inside of you filled the room together with your moans.
"I-I'm coming"
You could barely finish the sentence that the world went bright, and the purest pleasure you'd ever felt erupted in your body with a million different blasts.
For a whole minute, you were in another universe- and Joel eagerly enjoyed the show, not stopping his movements for even a fraction of a second.
You feared the moment you opened your eyes you'd wake up in your bed after yet another dream about this man- and yet he was still here, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.
He couldn't help but steal another little kiss on your core before he leaned away.
"well... wow" you smiled like an idiot, your breathing still a little labored "You know what you're doing Mr. Miller"
He didn't say anything, but you saw pink flush his cheeks again as he let your legs go, robbing you of his touch.
You would have been disappointed if it wasn't for the fact he was very clearly having trouble not having his gaze fall down to your heat.
You smiled to yourself as you accepted the skirt he quietly handed you.
Seeing you standing before him with it on when he knew you were bare and wet underneath made Joel's brain freeze for a moment, but that was of course, until you stood on your tiptoes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.
"thank you for this Joel"
Your voice was so sweet it sounded angelic to his ears- but the sweetness was replaced by something very different very quickly.
As you stood back down to your normal height, your body, being flushed against Joel's, came in contact with something that very much piqued your interest.
he was hard- very fucking hard
"no babygirl"
he was already shaking his head, crushing all your dreams
"but-"
"I can't" his tone was firm, although you could still hear restraint behind his words, like it was costing him a lot to say no.
"It feels to me like you very much can" you rebutted, smirking softly.
"I- it ain't right"
Oh my god
It took a lot not to roll your eyes "I thought we were past that whole thing" you said, cocking an eyebrow "Do I need to remind you what you were doing just a minute ago?"
"that's different"
"How?"
"it just is"
"what if I beg you Joel?" you purred, your best doe eyes looking up at him "What if I told you about how much I'd like to feel your cock inside of me? How desperate I am for it, Joel- how much I need it"
He was gonna go home and punch himself in the face for what he was about to say.
But it was true, he couldn't. It wasn't right- he needed... to think about it at least
"darlin'" he spoke softly "I can't... not right now"
there it is
The smirk that pulled at your lips was the most mischievous thing in the world.
"right now" you repeated his words, biting your lip as you played with the hem of his flannel "I can live with that- but Joel...don't even think this is over"
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