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cherryblossom-enthusiast · 1 year

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Bloom (Joel Millerxf!reader)

A/N: Naaaah whoever decided Joel Miller should be played by Pedro Pascal did it for the people who have daddy issuesssss. Here’s something I whipped out because Pedro leaves in my mind rent free. Pleaseee give me some suggestions or prompts for things to write

I tried starting a tag-list but it literally burned in flames when I tried setting it up. Please just turn on notifications if you would like to be updated for @cherryblossom-enthusiast if you want to keep up with my writing :)

Synopsis: Joel Miller was neither friend or foe. You’ve barely talked to the man considering his reclusiveness. But you can’t stop staring and wanting. Turns out, he can’t stop staring and wanting you either.

Warnings/ Tags: E (18+). Smut bby. Fluff, GrumpyxSunshine (Reader is a florist!), Unprotected PinV, Language, Dirty talk! Joel, Praise Kink, Rough sex, Fingering, SLIGHT spoilers

Word Count: 5.3K Words

Masterlist

Your breath clouds your vision like a puff of white smoke.

Winter. The very word is a tragedy.

Food is harder to come by, light leaves much faster. The world is as bleak as it is and yet winter still cascades around you, turning everything black and white. A lifeless painting.

The chilly wind picks up and a shiver runs through your body.

“Y’good?”

The voice is lazy. Slow.

Warm.

Considering who it’s coming from, the level of warmth is a fucking marvel.

A hulking figure approaches your side. With a deep sigh, you turn your head and you’re met with the most tired eyes you’ve ever seen on someone. No shine, no luster, just an outpour of exhaustion from every small gesture he decides to do.

Joel fucking Miller.

You remember the first time you talked to him all too clearly.

You’d never been friends. Acquaintances even. Makes it a bit hard when the son of a bitch was as recluse as he was. They were the new residents of Jackson. Him and the girl he holds tight to his chest.

You were intimidated by him at first. Joel was all gruff words, long sighs, and blank stares. But the more you paid attention to him, the more you understood how he worked. Especially, when it came to the people he cared about. The man didn’t take shit from anyone. Nobody bothered him, and he returned the favour.

For the most part, that stayed true. Joel was the kind of person who always vied to stay invisible, be like every other person. Unaffected for the most part. But as you start to water your flowers on a clear-skied summer day, you hear him laughing.

The richness of that laugh is still embedded into the deep recesses of your mind.

Joel wasn’t hard to understand as long as you really looked at him and boy did you stare.

You look over to his porch and there he is, “take no shit” Joel Miller with Ellie, teaching her how to play the guitar. You can’t quite remember what they were talking about. Something about “dinosaurs” and “T-rex hands”, but his adoration for the girl was so palpable, so intoxicating.

It was your first time seeing him so- loose. Like he actually gave a damn.

That’s when you knew Joel Miller would burn the world to keep that girl happy.

Ellie’s voice calling your name snaps you out of your thoughts. “How are you doing?!”

The tips of your ears burn, thinking about how weird it must have been staring at the pair for so long. “Enjoying this weather, how are you doing today Ellie?” You flash a bright smile.

She runs off the porch, practically hurling the instrument back at Joel. You hear an oof from the man behind her and you almost let out a small chuckle. Ellie stops in front of you, notebook in hand. The girl was always drawing or writing something. “It’s a great thing you came out,” she starts and pulls a pencil out from her back pocket. “I��ve been meaning to ask all about your pretty flowers.”

“Hopefully I have some answers.”

The girl babbles on about anything and everything she could think of. From what she thought were the coolest flowers, to what colours reminded her of planets. The conversation happens a while. You’d hit every single plant in your garden by the end of it.

Ellie points at your rose bushes with the back of her pencil. She reminds you of a reporter. All serious, wanting to get a big scoop, thirsty for any ounce of information she could get. “How about those? What are those?”

“Ah,” you move away so she can have a better view. “Those are called roses.”

“Uh-huh” She writes enthusiastically in her notebook “and what do those mean?”

“Well, each colour means a different thing, but that colour specifically-“ you point at the flowers behind you using your thumb “red roses, mean passion, affection, and-“ you pause, trying to find the proper words “things akin to love.”

Ellie stops her writing and looks up at you. Her eyebrows are creased and she looks so ridiculously cute it makes you giggle. “Basically, you’d give it to someone you reaallly reaaallly like Ells.”

“Like- Joel?”

That gets a proper laugh out of you. “Not quite.”

She doesn’t seem to be satisfied with your answer but leaves the reply alone. In true Ellie fashion, she moves on by asking another question. “What flower would I be?!”

You pretend to think about it for a moment even though you know exactly what flower you would give her. Not that you’d given that particular question much thought, but you just knew. When you find exactly what you’re looking for, you squat to quickly pluck it from the ground and turn back to Ellie. You outstretch your hand “I think I’ll give you a yellow lilly.”

“What does this one mean?”

You ponder it, letting out a hmmm and place the flower behind her ear. “Well it wouldn’t be special if I had to explain it now would it? I guess you just have to brush up on your flower language.”

Ellie lets out a whine. “But you’re the only who knows anything about plants here!”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to bother me more.”

A wild smile blooms on her face.

“Ellie!” You turn to discover the owner of the voice behind you. Tommy Miller approaches your direction, carrying a bag of supplies and produce. “You said you’d help Maria with supper tonight!”

Ellie jumps. “Shit!” She runs towards Tommy without a single care in the world. Halfway, she calls back to you and thanks you for your time. Tommy lifts his hand to acknowledge your presence and in return you lift your hand back to wave goodbye. Before you know it, the pair disappears, Ellie eagerly asking Tommy if he knew what her new flower meant.

“She’ll be talking to everyone bout’ flowers for while.”

Shoulders tensing, you swivel your head to your side. Joel stands beside you, hands in his pockets, a small smile gracing his face.

It catches you off guard completely. In the months you had spent as his neighbour, Joel had never spoken even a mere sentence to you. There was acknowledgement, maybe a simple wave, that nod men his age do when they want to greet a passerby. But hearing him direct his words to you hits you like a wave. A tsunami of shock.

He seems to notice your plight and his once loose posture turns rigid. “Sorry,” he mumbles “I should stop botherin ya-“

You shake your head in defense. “No, no, it’s just-“ Letting the tension roll of your shoulders, you sigh out a laugh and extend your hand, introducing yourself. He clasps it with his own and your arm goes limp. His hand is larger, the callouses hard against your skin. It should feel weird, uncomfortable even, but none of those feelings come to mind.

“Joel Miller, nice to meet you.”

Maybe you were silly for expecting more, but nothing really happens after that.

There were some conversations about small favours and errands here and there, but not to anyone’s surprise, Joel’s got more than one hard layer of rock. He’s as immovable as a mountain. You naturally went back to the role of spectator. Stupid little crush that wouldn’t go away.

How could it when he was the man that he was.

He repeats his question from earlier and it finally snaps you back to your current reality. You were in the middle of rounds during this god-forsaken weather. “Y’good?”

Joel wasn’t even supposed to be your patrol partner. You had gotten wind that your original partner caught hold of the flu and since Joel was otherwise wide open for the afternoon other than indulging other people’s requests, he took up the opportunity. The walk started off as awkward. You didn’t know what to say or how to approach him so it stayed quiet for the majority of the time, but the more you walked, the more comfortable it became. Usually, going out of Jackson’s walls still scared you. Having Joel by your side gave you a bit more re-assurance. You aren’t oblivious. Everyone knows how brutal he can become.

You shrug and look back at the vast expanse of land in front of you, overseeing from the cliff you were on. “’Just enjoying the natural splendour.”

Joel stays silent for a small while but replies. “I’d believe you more if you didn’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’d get into a ring and fight winter one-on-one”

The comment makes you scoff. “I’m tough as nails Miller.” You stare directly into his impenetrable eyes. “I’m sure I can handle a little snow.”

-------------------

Joel opens the door to a safehouse, making sure not to drop his gun until he knows for sure the area is safe. Once he’s satisfied, he leans the shotgun against the wall and motions for you to come in with a nudge of his head.

Both of you had been making record time getting back, but not even a racehorse could outrun the storm starting to brew. Halfway through your trudge back, Joel pats your shoulder, explaining that with the poor winter jackets the both of you were wearing and the wind whipping your faces, it’d be best to stop by a small cabin him and Tommy scouted a few rounds back. Not wanting to freeze to death, you obviously agreed to the idea.

It left you here.

Setting your bag down, rubbing your hands together, patiently waiting for Joel to start a fire in the hearth.

Joel.

Alone with Joel.

He stands up from his crouching position and turns back to you. “You’re free to set-up your sleeping bag closer to the fire.”

“Oh, no- no, it’s alright.” You speak quickly. Almost too quickly. “You made the fire, I think you deserve to enjoy the fire.”

“But-“

“I insist.” You state it in a tone that says “that’s final”.

The man sighs. “Alright ma’am, whatever ya say.”

The two of you unroll your packs, splaying your sleeping bags so that your toes are towards the hearth. You take off your boots and sit on your make-shift bed. It was uncomfortable, you haven’t had to sleep on one in a while, but you’d gladly take anything over having to stay outside. Joel follows suit.

“Turns out I couldn’t handle a little snow.” You remark.

A small puff of air comes out of him. Coming from Joel, it may as well have been a full-blown laugh. You turn to take a glimpse at him and another small smile is on his lips. It’s only the second time you’ve ever seen one on him and it knocks all the air out of you just like it did the first time.

He’s distracted and that’s when you take the time to really focus on him. He looks softer in the firelight, the whites in his hair more prominent, his usual dark eyes having a glow to them. He looks less- burdened, and with that smile on his face, dare you say, despite your current situation, just the tiniest bit peaceful.

“You should do that more.” The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“What?”

“Smile.”

Like a toddler caught with the cookie jar, a crook caught in the headlights, Joel tenses and you mentally punch yourself in the face. His face goes back to the stoic front he usually puts on.

“Sorry, I was just-“ you start to apologize.

“It’s fine.”

Silence once again ensues. The air becomes as awkward as it was before.

“So-“

“What-“

You both talk at the same time. Joel gestures to you, asking you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what we could do to kill time.”

Joel shrugs and continues to stare at the fire. “We could always just sleep.”

“Nah c’mon-“you push “don’t be such a bore.” You ponder some more and think of an idea. “How about twenty questions?” Your rounds partner says nothing, and you take the chance to convince him even more. “I’ve lived beside you a whole year and know nothin about you-“

“Probably for the best.”

Oh.

You understand. Of course, you do. But you can’t stop the small twinge of disappointment growing in your chest anyways.

When he makes the statement, you pull back. “Sorry, I just wanted to know more about you.” You fiddle with your nails. “Been staring at you for god knows how long and the most I’ve gathered is you like wood work.”

Joel perks up at your confession.

Dumb.

So dumb of you to admit that.

“You’re right, it’s better if we just go to-“

“No, let’s play.”

His sudden change of attitude to your idea throws you in for a loop. “Really? You sure?”

“That your first question you’re wastin’ darlin’?”

Your already tired brain short circuits at the nickname. “What?” No- I-“

The man has an amused look plastered all over his face. “Okay, well- shoot then.”

You think up of something stupid on the spot. “Favourite movie?”

“None. Got too many.” He answers.

“What? Well that’s not-“

“My turn.” He cuts you off once more. “Favourite flower?”

It doesn’t even take you a second to respond. “Oh easy, the lotus flower.” You ponder your next question. “One thing you don’t like?”

“Smiling.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you.

“Your thoughts on coffee?” He continues.

Your nose wrinkles “Bitter garbage.”

He puts his hands up to surrender. “I respect wrong answers.”

“Pet Peeve?”

He looks up at the ceiling and takes a moment to really think about it. “When I have nothing good to trade for coffee.” He takes another few seconds to think of another good question before he hits the lottery. “Why don’t you like winter so much?”

A loaded and good question indeed.

You shrug. “Cause.”

You get an eyebrow raise. “Cause?”

“Cause I don’t know-“ You go back to picking at your nails. It’s become a habit, doing it every time you’re nervous. “The world already looks dead and winter comes along and makes it even more dead.”

“That why you like flowers so much?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’re not even letting me ask a question before you ask me another one?”

This flusters him. “No, I just-“

Embarrassed Joel Miller. Never thought you’d get to check that off your bingo card.

A wide smile breaks on your lips. “ I’m just kidding, Joel.” He lets out a sort of grumble and it makes you smile even wider. “That’s a part of it sure.” Your eyes haze over as you start to remember life as it once was. “My folks were florists” you start to explain “before all this shit went down.” It was a small shop, with wide glass windows, and plants of every kind. “Hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with em’ especially my father, some dumb teenage kid who thought it was embarrassing.” You scoff. “But taking care of plants was the only thing I was good at, held it to my chest like a life-line.”

Memories play in front of you like an old film. Sometimes you forget that there was something before all of this.

All this carnage.

All this wreck.

“Before my dad died, not to this, thank god, he kept on trying to take care of the shop.” You recall his pale ill-stricken face and frail hands. “I got mad, made a fuss, yelled why he’d take care of some dumb flowers but not himself, and you know what he said?”

You remember his words, as clear as crystal, even twenty years later.

“Isn’t it a wonderful thing that these flowers still grow? Despite all the noise and all the chaos, something as beautiful and as frail as this is surviving. When I think of the way I’m helping that, I can’t possibly suffer.”

Joel stays silent at your admission.

You notice that you may have gone a little overboard.

Jesus- dump it all on him why don’t you?

Trying to make the mood lighter, you quickly change the subject. “Besides, when it’s summer, Ellie visits me more.” Joel Miller chuckles at the mention of the girl. You decide then it’s definitely one of your favourite sounds. “I like seeing the two of you together.”

“Hm?”

“You both always seem so lost in your own world. Nice to see, considering you got that grumpy scowl on all the time.”

“That right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He slowly nods, gazing back at the fire. “Some of us aren’t monsters and smile 24/7 like you do.”

You’re offended by the comment. “Wha- I do not!” You exclaim. “What’s wrong with smiling anyways?”

Even more chuckling. He’s getting real comfortable with doing that. “Nothing, when it comes to you anyways” he remedies “But you do it all the time, watering people’s yards, baking them an apple pie, hell, I’m pretty sure you laughed when you slipped on ice this morning. You got your emotions all over your face you know that? Infects all of Jackson.” He takes a slight pause. “Reminds me of Ellie.”

“Oh god, you saw that this morning?”

“Oh yeah,” He teases, words elongated in that Southern drawl. “Mitts flying into the air and everything.”

Your face practically feels like an oven. “How do you even know about all of that?”

Joel shrugs. “Cause.”

“Cause?”

“Maybe you haven’t been the only one staring for god knows how long.”

Time stops.

Suddenly, air doesn’t matter, heat doesn’t even come close to existing. A supernova could happen, and you’d sit here just as shell-shocked. Nothing matters other than Joel.

Joel and his stupid accent.

Joel and what he just said with that stupid accent.

You swallow thickly and bless your heart, you don’t know what comes over you, but you take a chance to keep pushing. “You think I’m gonna “infect you” with tons of smiles soon too, cowboy?”

He doesn’t reply all to quickly, and for those couple of seconds where all you can here is the fire crackle and the wind whipping outside, it feels like a brick ton is laid upon your shoulders.

“Maybe you already have.”

Goddamn.

All the stolen glances you’ve taken of him flashes in your mind.

“Joel,” you mutter. The man beside you continues to stare at the fire, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Joel.” You repeat, more firm with your tone.

He finally decides to look in your direction and God- your heart pounds so hard, you think it might just come out of your chest. Those eyes. Those damn coffee-coloured eyes of his that usually looks so cold, so despondent are the warmest colour of molten chocolate you’ve ever seen. You can tell he’s clenching his jaw and the view almost knocks you out cold.

With a shaky breath, you start to messily list all the things you’ve always wanted to say. “Tell me now if I’m taking this the wrong way so I don’t keep embarrassing myself, but I swear to everything I hold sacred, if I don’t kiss you right now, I’m going to have a very frustrating ni-“

A growl from Joel cuts you off and before you know it, he’s crossing oceans to get to you. A strong hand grips you by the neck, and firm lips plant themselves squarely on yours.

It’s pathetic how fast you keen under his touch, how fast you grab the collar of his shirt to draw him closer to you. You open your mouth to moan and he takes that chance to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. It’s dizzying, downright intoxicating the way Joel kisses you. The way you’re kissing each other is every look, every stare, every word that was ever left unsaid between the both of you that’s exploding into something cosmic.

You lift yourself up and straddle his lap. You press down and feel the growing hardness in Joel’s jeans. He groans into your mouth and you continue to press your hips down farther.

Joel stops kissing you. A needy whine escapes your lips. “Are you sure you want this darlin’?”

Your panting is heady. “Joel if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll have the liberty of fucking myself with my fing-“

You know you sound downright hopeless, but you’ve been wanting for so damn long.

He flips you down onto the sleeping bags so fast, you don’t even have time to finish. He rucks up your shirt and starts to pepper small kisses from the center of your breasts, down to your stomach. It makes you whimper as you continue to finish taking of your top.

Joel gets to quickly unbuttoning the rest of your clothes, peeling the jeans off of your body until all you have on is your bra and panties. He hovers over you and takes off his own shirt. He’s all muscle and hard chest. The mere sight of him shirtless drenches your underwear faster. He takes a few seconds to peer at your half-naked form. “Damn, you’re a sight.”

“So are you.” You admit in a small voice.

He wastes no time, delving back in between your legs. He slides down your underwear and immediately ghosts his fingers over your cunt. Shivers run down your body as your eyes close in bliss.

“You imagine it was my fingers?” His dark voice pulls you back.

“Ever since I first set my eyes on you Miller.” You heatedly reply.

“Great,” he pushes two fingers inside you making you boom a moan towards the ceiling. “Been thinking it was your fingers around my cock too.

He works into you, his fingers large and stocky. Joel starts off slow, languid, making sure to tease every reaction out of you. You don’t think it’s possible to get wetter than you already are, but every thrust of his fingers proves you wrong. He curls both at the same time, and your hips immediately lift from the pressure. Joel pushes you down with his other hand. “Na-ah darlin’,” That southern drawl of his is deeper, lazier than usual “I finally got you where I want you, you’re not going anywhere.”

As he keeps your hips down with his palm, Joel increases the speed of his fingers. “Why didn’t-“ you choke “you do anything earlier then?”

A mocking scoff leaves him. “You’re too good for me, doll. Got too many issues. “

“Then why now?”

“Because I’m still a selfish fucking asshole.” He groans, rotating his thumb around your clit. “And when you sit in front of me, all flushed and pretty, asking me to fuck you, how could I possibly have the strength to say no?”

You see Joel spit on your slit and it’s what does it for you. A rush of electricity passes through your body and it renders you senseless. You mewl and twist in his hold, but Joel makes sure to hold you through your orgasm.

Your mind is hazy, it turns into a mixture of fog and smoke, but your refuse to leave him hanging. After a few seconds, you prop yourself up and kneel right in front of him. Not breaking eye contact for even a moment, you take your hand and start to palm his length over his jeans. He trembles beneath you, jaw clenching as he lets out a groan. You slowly unbuckle his belt, pulling down the rest of his clothing and waste no time finally gripping him directly.

Shit, you knew a man like him would be big, but this is-

The sound that comes from Joel’s throat is devastating. Somewhere between pant and moan, losing total control. He thumps his head on your shoulder, seeking out the crook of your neck. You continue to work his cock, building up speed, tightening your grip. His tip leaks pre-cum and the way he bunches up your hair desperately, like he needs to hold onto something to keep from losing control only prompts you to keep going. The feeling of power is addicting. “Don’t mess with me” Joel Miller keening under your touch.

He suddenly pulls your hair and it’s enough of a shock to make you stop your hand and whine. “I know you’re having fun doll, but you keep doing that and I’ll finish. Waited too damn long for that to happen.” He grabs you by the hips and flips you over making you let out a small yelp. He positions you so that your ass is towards him. “Bend.” He orders.

So you do.

He palms your ass and gives it a spank. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to touch this? Flaunting it around-“ He squeezes “shoving it in my direction, wearing those pretty dresses of yours.”

“Ever think it was on purpose?”

There’s another slap to your ass to respond to your comment.

He lines up his cock to your entrance, gliding his tip to coat it in your wetness. You quiver, breath hitching, skin prickling.

“If I fuck you, there’s no going back for me darlin’, if you want me to stop you have to tell me right now.”

You groan in frustration. “Fuck me Joel, please just-“

He buries his full length into you all in one thrust.

You think you’re ascending to heaven, knocking on the pearly white gates itself. He gives you a couple of seconds to get accustomed to his massive size. “You okay?”

“Mmhm?” Is all you can make out, trying to nod your head that’s pressed up against your sleeping bag.

“Good,” he starts to move as you cry out in pleasure. “Tell me to stop and I will, but otherwise-“ He shoves himself even deeper. “I’m not holdin’ back.”

Joel sets up a brutal pace from the beginning. He grips your ass tight, making sure you’re taking everything he has to give and all you can do is let him. There’s nowhere for you to go as he drives his hips into you, fully filling you up with every fast snap of his hips. To say it’s overwhelming would be a complete understatement.

Are you sure this is the same Joel Miller? Cool, calm, composed Joel Miller that has everyone quaking in their boots the minute he holds a knife or a gun. Because right now, he’s so undone. There’s no pattern to the way he moves in you, no finesse, just pure want.

He places his hand that was on your ass to your scalp. He pulls you up using your hair and once you’re flush against his back, he grasps your neck, continuing his unrelenting tempo to your pussy. You tighten around him.

“You like that huh?” He comments in an amused tone. “Who knew the town sweetheart was so fucking naughty like this.” You want to try and come up with a witty response, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. “Actually, don’t tell me. I’d kill anybody who does know.”

His thumb raises to your lips and you take the liberties of sucking it into your mouth. His hold on your neck slackens and the sudden rush of oxygen to your head has you teetering on the edge of consciousness. He takes his arm that’s around your stomach and travels it down further to your swollen cunt. Joel starts to roll your clit between his fingers and you think you’ll really black-out then.

“God, such a good girl, even when taking cock.” He whispers into your ear. You clench around him even harder this time and he knows you’re close. “You gonna come doll? Gonna come on my cock?”

A needy whine escapes your throat. Each roll, each rut, each jerk, grows more intense as each second passes. “C’mon,” he coaxes “do it.” With one last pinch to your sensitive clit, your muscles tighten and heat spreads across your skin. Your walls flutter and as your eyes roll back, vision blurring, you are hurled into your climax. With a choked sob, you slump forwards and the only thing helping you stay up is Joel’s hold. He follows you shortly after, sputtering your name on his lips. Pulling out quickly, he comes on your back.

Joel slowly lowers down the both of you, making sure not to crush you with his weight from behind. It was so gentle, so benign you struggled to relate it to the man furiously fucking you just a few moments earlier. Nothing but your pants fill the air for a while. You’re sticky all over, sweat and come coating your skin. Your body was buzzing from both pain and pleasure, but you couldn’t care less.

You roll your body so you can look at him. Joel’s face was and wasn’t everything you expected it to look like. You expect the flush, the hair sticking to his forehead, the clench of his jaw. What you don’t expect is the softness in his usual impenetrable gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He grumbles.

Your eyebrows knit and you place a palm against his cheek. Joel all but melts into your touch. “What for?”

“For wanting you this much.”

Taking both your arms, you wrap them around his neck and pull him towards you. He lays against you, hie ear right beside your mouth. “Thank you.” You whisper.

“What for?

“Wanting me this much.”

You hear his sharp intake of air and smile. You continue to pet his hair, peppering small kisses on his forehead. “I want you too, Joel.”

“You shouldn’t.” He mutters a tired reply.

“But I do.” You take a deep breath and let him know all your thoughts. “I want all your grumpy stares, and your grunted words- You pause to give him another kiss “Your silent kindness, and that rare smile of yours.” Joel doesn’t say anything back so you continue to talk. “All of it. Will you let me have all of it?”

He pulls himself back, just enough to gaze back at you, full of admiration. “Just let me have all of you too.”

The beating of your heart doesn’t speed, doesn’t flutter past the finish line, instead opting for a slow steady pace, But the feeling in your chest was so heavy, so full, that you couldn’t mistake it for anything other than devotion. You grin from ear to ear. “Who would be able to say no at getting a chance to annoy you with more conversation.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and it only makes your heart fill up with even more with adoration.

This man that you’ve been pining for, holding you close here. Now.

You don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Hell, you don’t know what will happen a few seconds from now, how this whole unpolished attraction between the two of you will buff out. The wind is still howling outside, whipping away at all the destruction and the carnage happening around you, but for now the world is still. The both of you are inside this cabin in the woods and for now, you don’t think, don’t plan, only exist and it is everything.

Maybe later you can hope that in this winter, something beautiful and strong can grow too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s late in the evening when you finally get to relax the next day. Once the both of you had returned to Jackson, there were too many errands that had to be rushed in the time that you missed. Nothing else could be said other then a quick farewell between each other.

As you drag your exhausted body up the stairs of your porch, you almost don’t notice the flower in front of your doorstep, nearly stepping on it.

A wave of warmth comes rushing up from your toes.

You beam as you crouch and pick up a singular red rose attached with a note that says “Come over. We didn’t finish our game of twenty questions.”

- - - - - - - -

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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

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Joel Miller: Talking Body

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Summary: After months of getting to know Joel Miller, your attraction to him finally comes to its peek with your mouth between his legs.

Excerpt: “You swept the hair from his forehead and hummed. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

You could tell you were shocking him - you were shocking yourself - so much so that any semblance of his own voice seemed to be knocked from his lungs. He could only nod, a flush making its way up his neck.

You nearly kissed him right then, but you didn’t. Instead, you practically clamored over the back of the couch onto the cushions before taking another step onto the floor, standing up straight in front of Joel, admiring his legs fully spread and his eyes fully blown wide.

You then sank to your knees.”

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, undefined relationship, jackson!joel, SMUT, oral male receiving, so much praise kink on joel’s end, and just as much on reader’s end, cum play, reader is scared of commitment, ambiguous ending.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is so self-indulgent and dirty I am so not sorry.

read part II here

Pedro Masterlist

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(gif from pinterest)

He would come to you at night, only at night, seconds after the sun finally hit the west side of the earth. You would wait for his footsteps, mistaking every gust of wind or squawk of crow for them, your heart lurching every time.

You tried to convince yourself your heart wasn’t in it, these meetings at dusk, but the thought of them ending hurt more than the pain of everything about them being hazy and indefinite.

The worst part about them, however, was that they weren’t even for sex.

He would knock, knowing that the door was already unlocked, and you would kindly remind him of that from your living room couch. You had a working theory he did it just to hear your voice, but even you could not think about that long enough without seeds of doubt planting themselves in your brain. He would then open the door slowly, politely, and close it just as delicately. He would hang up his coat, untie the laces of his worn leather boots, and make eye-contact with you as he slid them off, whispering “hey.”

“Hey” you would respond in a whisper, grinning at the thought of him acting like 8:30 at night was late enough to be whispering.

He would rub his hands together, blow in them to warm them, and make his way to you, plopping down on the couch next to you.

And then you would just...talk. And drink. And laugh. And cry. For hours.

You looked forward to it more than anything you could remember.

Tonight, you had something special for the man you had come to know. He always drank your cheap, watered-down beer with a grin of contentment on his face, thanking you for it and offering something in return. Ever the gentlemen, even in an apocalypse. But earlier in the day, you had bartered for something you had been searching for for months.

In his own words, “the best fuckin’ thing to ever come out of Texas,” Macallan whiskey, distilled in 1988, as well as two bourbon glasses and fresh ice.

You could not wait to see the look on his face. His grins were common, but true smiles were rare. You were hopeful you could pull one out of him tonight.

The night was getting darker and darker as you double checked your set up - making sure the ice had not yet melted, the glasses were straight on your coffee table, and your makeup was perfectly casual - and waited for his familiar footsteps. Your heart pounded in your ears and the same anxious thought raced around your mind for what felt like hours on end.

What if he never comes back?

You were straightening the glasses for what had to have been the twentieth time when the distinct pattern of the scuff of his boots on the dirt that you had memorized to the millisecond hit your ears, and your breath escaped you.

You got nervous every time, and you knew exactly why.

The two-one-one pattern of his knock echoed through your house, and after a loud “it’s open” from you, the hinges of your door squeaked, and none other than Joel Miller was leaning on your doorframe, accentuating his shoulders nearly as wide as the doorframe itself.

“Hey,” he said, breathily. It was almost a sigh. Whether it was of relief or exhaustion, you were unsure.

“Hey,” you said back with a smile. “Come on in. I have a surprise.”

He grinned and leaned down to remove his boots. Only this time, his eyes remained on the laces, not on you.

It didn’t scare you, but it did give you the slightest sting across your chest.

You made yourself comfortable on the couch as he headed over to you, rolling his shoulders as he walked, and plopped himself down on the couch - legs spread, hands flat on the cushions, and head propped up just so.

“What’s all this?” he asked, eyeing your coffee table.

“Rarer than gold, that’s what it is,” you replied, leaning forward to grab the bottle off the wood and hand it to him. “It’s the real shit.”

He held it in his hand for a moment and tilted it around and around, feeling and admiring every inch of it, before turning to you and saying, “Thank you.”

Your eyes didn’t leave his and your heart picked up speed as you mustered up a reply. “You’re welcome, now get her open. I’d like to see what all the fuss is about.”

He scoffed a laugh as he unscrewed the cap, officially breaking the seal, and you couldn’t help but notice the depth of the circles under his eyes being slightly more pronounced.

“Rough day?” you asked as he handed you back the bottle. The amber liquid coated the ice in your glasses to the brim.

He sighed, watching you pour. “Somethin’ like that.”

You handed him his glass and began pouring your own as you replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said as he leaned back into your couch, spreading his legs and pushing his crotch up to the ceiling, “I’m here now.”

You couldn’t hide your smile as you topped off your glass, set the whiskey down, and leaned your body back to match his own.

You watched him take his first sip - throat bobbing as he swallowed, eyes closing as he soaked up the feeling, and mouth propping slightly open as it overwhelmed his taste buds. “Best fuckin’ thing out of Texas,” he exclaimed as he took another sip, and you took a sip as well.

“Excluding you, of course,” you replied as the burning liquid made its way down your throat. He scoffed once again, this time a bit more genuine.

The two of you sat like that for some time - sipping your drinks, glancing at each other, relaxing into the couch, and enjoying the songs of the cicadas. After a few more moments, Joel’s husked voice broke the silence.

“Is it alright if we just...sit?” he asked suddenly, looking at you longingly. “In the quiet?”

“Of course, Joel,” you replied, voice equally dry from the liquor, “whatever you want.”

He nodded, and with one last sigh, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Finally, you thought, finally I have the chance to really look at him.

And you took the opportunity for the rarity that it was.

You noticed everything. How his neck was slightly tanner at the front, littered with moles. How his jaw cut through the golden lighting of your lamps like a knife, and the small area of his cheek missing a bit more stubble than the rest did the same. How, when his eyes were shut, his long lashes dusted the tops of his cheekbones just so. How his thighs fit his jeans just right, highlighting their width. How his forearms peaked from his green shirt, highlighting the veins in his wrist and his hands. His right hand wrapped around the entirety of the burbon glass, giving your lower stomach a zap of heat.

And his shoulders, good lord. Just as broad as they were against the doorframe, only they still seemed...hunched, Tight. Like he was on guard still, despite his liberal body language.

Your fingers tingled to...touch them. Feel them in their entirety and bring them back down from their proximity to his ears.

Before you let yourself think, you were setting down your glass and moving behind the couch, letting your hands hover over his clothed shoulder blades.

Had they become tighter since you moved?

“Joel?” you asked from above, looking down at the top of his head.

“Hm?” he questioned, his voice slightly shaking.

With equally shaky hands, you pressed down onto his shoulders with your thumbs, and began to roll them. “Is this okay?”

His mouth opened, his tongue wet his lips, and his throat bobbed as he said, “Yes.”

And so, you did exactly what you had wanted to do for months: turned Joel Miller into putty with your fingers.

You began with the center of his back, rolling his skin with the joints in your wrists. You didn’t press hard, merely maneuvering the skin to find any apparent knots or sweet spots. It was when you finally did find one on his left shoulder blade that Joel couldn’t help but let his head tilt back, an exhale of relief exiting his now parted lips before he could stop himself.

“Good lord,” he groaned, “it’s worse than I thought.”

“I’ve got you,” you replied, “just relax.”

And he did. For what had to have been hours, you kneaded and manipulated across his shoulders and down his back as he exhaled and groaned, communicating only through sound. Occasionally he would take a sip of his whiskey, raising his arm behind him to offer you a sip every time.

You were happy to oblige.

After the sun had finally set and his glass was finally emptied, your fingers had made their way around to his right shoulder, targeting the area directly under his neck. He had been silent for some time, you were nearly convinced he had fallen asleep sitting up, but with one firm stroke of your thumb up the area, his head finally lost its battle against gravity, and fell back onto the cushion behind his head. His head hit quickly, but his exhale of the perfect mix of pleasure and pain hit your ears first.

And now he was staring up at you, your face hovering over his as you remained standing behind the couch, and everything in your body that had already been warmed suddenly turned molten.

His previously light brown eyes were now nearly black, and in that exact moment, a beam of understanding passed between your intersected gazes.

He wanted you to kiss him.

Luckily for you, however, you still had an ember of self-control left in your body, and despite how fiercely your body burned to give him exactly what he wanted, you wanted something else. You wanted to feel his body, know his body, before knowing how his heart felt for you. Because, eventually, that meant he would have to know how yours felt for him, and that scared you more than the apocalypse happening outside your window. A kiss, even a peck, was much too close to that grand reveal for your liking.

So instead, you did the other thing you had been wanting to do for months: memorize the exact texture of Joel Miller’s skin.

You carded your fingers through his slowly greying scalp, digging your nails in slightly, and his eyes fluttered, slightly, nearly breaking your matched gazes. Your fingers moved on their own accord, once again finding the spots that made him exhale a bit deeper than the others, and they found themselves slowly migrating down to his face - tracing the jaw you loved so much, his curved nose, his pouted lips.

A voice that had to have been your own suddenly filled the air. “I want to touch you, Joel. More of you.” Your thumb traced over his bottom lip. “All of you.”

His hot breath hit your thumb as he replied, “Yes.”

You swept the hair from his forehead and hummed. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

You then sank to your knees.

“Wait,” Joel said as you reached for the faded-brown belt on his waist. “Darlin’, don’t you want...somethin’? From me?”

You knew what he meant. Don’t you want to come too? Be touched too? Be worshiped too?

You smiled up at him and said, “Joel, I don’t want anything from you.”

To any other person, the statement sounded vile. But to him, it sounded like heaven.

I don’t want your protection. I don't want your help. I don't want your advice. I just want you.

“Alright,” he replied, grinning, and slowly leaned back into the couch.

Finally, you had him.

You proceeded to remove his belt - slowly, methodically - and unzip his jeans. His dark grey boxers were soon revealed to you, and you could not help but grin at the teepee beginning to form in them.

“It’s the whiskey,” he joked, “can’t help it.”

You laughed, and without missing a beat, began to palm him through the fabric. His laughter swiftly turned into a groan, and his left hand gripped the leather armrest so fiercely the squeak of the fabric on his sweaty hands echoed throughout the house.

“Y/N,” he exclaimed, “God please.”

You smirked, “okay.”

You then dragged his jeans down his legs, taking the time to admire the sculpture that was Joel Miller’s thighs, before you pulled them completely off his feet. You then took the opportunity while you had it and kissed and nibbled all around his exposed inner thighs. His breaths increased in pace and depth so much that it was almost comical.

“Still want my mouth on you?” you asked as you began to suck a hickey onto his right thigh.

“Fuck yes,” he replied, “fuck yes.”

You tucked your nails under the waistband of his underwear, and pulled until he was finally free.

Even at first glance, you were unsure if you could fit even half of it in your mouth.

You made eye-contact with him once again, noting how fucking good he looked fully revealed for you, and began to slide your hand underneath his shirt. revealing just the beginnings of a happy trail and a tummy -

- before a soft, gentle hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“Not - not my shirt,” Joel said, still panting, but with a tensity back in his shoulders. “Not right now.”

You nodded, and quickly removed your hand, moving it back down to his thighs again and kissing the marks you had made previously.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he said, so weakly you couldn’t help but pity him, “I’m just -”

“I know what you are, Joel,” you stated firmly, “I know who you are.”

With one final glace up at him, you wrapped your hand around his length, giving it a pump, and said, “That’s why I’m on my knees.”

And that’s when Joel Miller did anything but relax.

As you pumped him, slowly, his chest puffed and his arms flexed, so much so you were surprised it was not ripping at the seams. His face became sweaty, his ears turned bright red, and his mouth officially lost any shred of the filter he had before.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groaned as you slid your hand up and down his shaft, finding a rhythm, “you...how are you doin’ that so well?”

“I’m here because I want to be,” you replied, slowly working your fingers down to his balls, “because you deserve this. Your body...you’ve got a perfect one. You know that, right?”

His throat bobbled as he stared down at you, obviously not used to any sort of praise. You’d have to fix that.

Without warning, once again, you cupped his balls and slid his dick down your throat, fully tasting the heat and fragrance of it, and Joel could not help but push your mouth deeper into the motion and release a noise guttural and raw. He sounded like a man possessed, wounded by the feeling of a woman’s mouth around him.

And lord was the taste of him mixed with the leftover whiskey on your tongue a perfect cocktail of heaven and hell.

You began to bob your head, moving the way he guided you with his hand tangled in your hair, and through his groans and whines, you could make out one specific sentence that sprouted from Joel’s mouth.

“You’re the best - best - goddamn thing to happen to me in... a long fuckin’ time.”

He had lamented to you before about his struggles with Ellie. How she had eventually figured out his lies, what he truly did at that firefly hospital, and how she had yet to forgive him. Every night you met, he would find a way to mention it, and even now with his dick so far down your throat you could feel his hairs tickling your nose, you found a way to understand.

And the fact that you - you - were what he needed, your talks with him were giving him what he needed, so much so that you were “the best goddamn thing to happen to him in a long fuckin’ time...”

...the only way you could think to show him how much his words meant to you was to pull away from him, and start licking lines up his veins, making eye-contact with him once again.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered, gripping the leather once again, “look up at me like that.”

“Why?” you questioned, continuing to trace all of him with your tongue.

“Because it’s the reason I’m so fuckin’ tired today,” he replied, his shirt beginning to change shades around his chest, “fuckin’ dreamed of this - of you doin’ this - last night. Felt so fuckin’ dirty I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t focus on patrol. Couldn’t look you in the eye while takin’ off my boots.”

You whined around his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, causing him to gasp.

“Look so much prettier than I could - could have imagined.”

You hadn’t been grinding on yourself until that moment - wanting to focus on him, pleasuring him - but the depth of the drawl of his voice that you had come to know so well saying those words about you gave you no other choice. Suddenly, your heel was against your clit, and as his precum dripped from your mouth when you went in for more and more of him, your heel gave you the perfect relief.

It took him a few seconds to catch on to what you were doing, but once he did, his eyes glowed in the lamplight, and his face formed into a real - true - smile. One that touched his eyes, crinkling them slightly, and was so wide that his tongue touched the roof of his mouth.

He looked almost...boyish. Sincerely joyful. Sincerely present. Sincerely Joel.

And that was enough motivation for you to stick the entirety of him in your mouth.

Within seconds, his hand in your hair tightened, and he began rocking his dick into your mouth. Your eyes watered, and his did too.

“Can I... can I come?” he asked. “Right now?” His voice was nasaled and desperate.

You nodded, and with one last thrust, he spilled into your mouth, filling it completely. You swallowed as much as you could, but some dribbled, mixing with the tears already streaming down your cheeks. You looked up at him as he came into your mouth, continuing to grind into yourself as his eyes squeezed shut, his lips trembled, his eyebrows came together, and the veins in his neck bulged.

Maybe, in that moment, he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

When his eyes finally opened and met your own was when you released him from your mouth with a slight pop, and as you did, a small bead of cum and spit stretched between his dick and your mouth, dribbling onto your shirt when the distance between the two finally became too much for it.

He looked at you like you were an angel sent from heaven, baptising him with the dirtiest things.

“Hi handsome,” you said, still staring up at him, and he wiped the cum away from your chin with his thumb. He cupped your jaw with that same hand, and just...admired you. For those few seconds, everything was perfect. For those few seconds, he was yours, and you were his.

Until, after he traced your cheekbone with his thumb, he whispered, “I’ve gotta go home.”

You were positive the hurt showed on your face, but the logical side of your brain screamed right back at it.

Of course he would leave. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of you. No matter how late he stayed, the depths of what he revealed, or how intense the glances between you, he always went home. Always.

You were a fool to think otherwise, even after this.

You nodded, swallowing the remainder of his cum in your throat, and backed yourself onto your butt so he could pull his underwear and jeans back on. You couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at you.

He stood up, extended an arm to help you onto wobbly feet, and with one last look into your eye, he began his walk back towards your door.

“Keep the whiskey,” he said as he pulled his shoes on, not even bothering to tie them, and he was out your door.

That same torturous, vile, nauseating thought that fell over you every time he left your home, fell over you when he drank your drinks, and filled you with the apprehension to not kiss him in the first place ratted in your brain when the ache of the absence of his presence hit you.

Will he ever come back?

Taglist: (please let me know if you would like to be added :))

@leahkenobi @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @aninnai @darling-murdock @daphne-turner @ellesvoid @morks-watermelon

#Joel Miller #joel #joel and ellie #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x #joel miller x reader #thelastofus #the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #the mandolorian x reader

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