theetherealbloom - Tumblr blog

[theetherealbloom]

helen ; chapter five

be seeing you

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the choice.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship, sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, tess cameo, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, bamf miller bros, smut, fingering, joel is an emotional munch, shower sex, unprotected PIV, handjob, male whimpering, conflicting emotions, orgasms aplenty, Big Angst and Big Sad but also Big Epiphanies, ambiguous ending, i'm getting emotional writing these tags, it feels so final, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 9.3k a/n: hi, friends. i can't believe we're already at the end of the main story, and tbh if i think about it too much i'll probably cry. i want to thank @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter as always and giving me the guidance and support i need. we'll have an epilogue after this chapter, so there's still more to look forward to, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy and thank you so so much for reading. xoxo prev | next

Her eyes are so sad, you think, stepping back to take in the full scope of the canvas. It’s doused in paint from corner to corner, still wet to the touch, the woman and her lover intertwined so thoroughly that it’s difficult to tell where they both end. It’s in shades of glum blue and flecks of angry red and brown where his eye watches you. But it’s her eyes that cannot lift to meet yours. It’s her lashes that fan across her cheeks as she casts her gaze toward the bottom edge where the canvas is wrapped taut around the wood. 

The sun will soon rise, but you haven’t slept. The contours of the sky are washed in a haze of greys and pale blues and light pink and the air smells warm, heavy—a storm about to roll in. The clouds on the horizon are thick with a blackening rage. You sit in the alcove by the window and put your temple to the cool glass. You yawn. Joel does not come back.

“Do you think it's true,” you asked him one night, your head on his chest, hand on his heart, “that art makes nothing happen?”

Joel, drawing shapes on your back, dozing off in the golden light of the sunrise, frowned. “Someone tell you that?”

“It's something my art teacher used to say,” you told him. “No matter how much it moves people, it doesn't do anything.”

“Your art teacher sounds like a fuckin’ downer.”

You laughed, hiking your thigh up over his hip and playfully biting his jaw. “So it's bullshit?”

“I think,” said Joel, tucking his chin to kiss the top of your head, “that your art makes people feel. It brings ‘em together. It's important because it's yours.”

You propped your head up on his chest and threaded your fingers through his too-long hair, overdue for a trim. A curl draped over his forehead, his beard patchy and soft under the pads of your fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me,” you said. “I wonder why the universe brought you to me.”

Joel shook his head, guiding his rough, callused fingers up your arm, curling them around your wrist, gently prodding your veins. “Wasn't the universe,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t a choice. I was yours the second I saw you. So, I guess it's your fault.”

You just rolled your eyes and kissed him, mouth to smiling mouth. 

Your paintings may be yours, made with life and energy and colour, but when they are finished, they don’t move. They are stagnant as a heavy rock beneath a cliffside, washed over and over again by the cresting waves, its salt stolen for the water, eternal damnation to a fate of non-movement. And sometimes an artist will walk under the cliff, shove their easel into the fleshy ground the way a man erects his country’s flag in the earth he has stolen, and paint the rock. The artist is moved by the breathtaking colours of the shore and the way the wind flutters through the grass. But the rock does not budge. It never will. 

Your art will never erupt from the boundaries of the canvas and tell you what it means. The lovers in your painting will not tear open their mouths like the seams holding a wound together. They will not tell you what they want, need, crave. They are you, and that is what you hate—because dimpled flesh and lustful fingers and the press of his mouth to her throat cannot tell you what you’re supposed to do. 

You had become complacent in his love for you. You had let him press his worn hands to your body and pull your soul out through his mouth and you had been a wife, while all the time there was a stranger who occupied his heart, a spirit in an abandoned body. All the time, he'd been haunted. And although you had loved him, your love had not been enough to exorcise the guilt and trauma, pecking at him, an eagle at his liver. 

Crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the easel, you press your fingers to the corner of the canvas. The paint is cool to the touch, and you leave behind fingerprints where your signature should be. Pulling your hand back, you examine the accumulation of colour, the blues and reds swirling into the deep purple of a bruise, the bodies on a canvas that may only ever mean something to you, and you wonder, Is this all I am? A cautionary tale, a love lost? A fucking footnote at the end of a clause that reads: “See, for example, the one who never loved deeply enough to make it count”?

You bring your hand to your face to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes and blink hard at the sting, realising you’ve smeared paint across your cheekbones. 

In the bathroom, you scrub furiously, the cloying scent of it clinging to your throat and your tear ducts, washing away the evidence of their entwined bodies, their love, your pain. 

Once, you tried to get Joel to paint. You sat behind him on your bench, your legs bracketing his hips, your paintbrush in his hand. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he said.

Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. “There’s no rulebook.”

He tried to turn his head and kiss you, but you nipped his ear in reproach. “Remember when you took me out driving at the airstrip because you wanted me to feel the road? Think of this like feeling the canvas. Go on, cowboy. Make nothing happen.”

Joel’s painting still hangs over your shared bed. The intruders never found it, or never cared enough to destroy it. It’s a candle, just a candle, its lines imprecise, the paint unevenly applied in places, the shine of the flame more orange than yellow. But it’s a painting, so the candle always burns. He titled it Love. 

The pain still sits low in your chest, pulling down your heart as if tied to it by a string. But Joel is still out there, fighting his way back to you, the way he always has, always will. You look down at your left hand, clutching the edge of the marble vanity, and decide to clean your wedding ring. 

“I’m sorry, brother,” says Tommy, turning the gun on Joel. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” growls Joel, struggling against his bonds. The clip rattles faintly in his brother’s hand as a tremor courses through him. 

“He’s following my orders,” says Cabrera, clapping his hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Fascinating what a man will do when he must consider his family’s well-being.”

Joel sucks on his teeth, his eyes not once leaving his brother. 

“It's my son,” Tommy says through his teeth. “It's Maria. If I don't do this—”

“Yeah? You gonna kill me, Tommy? Is that why your hand’s shakin’?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” his brother snaps. “You think I want to do this? I gotta save my family, Joel. You know what that's like.”

“All I’ve done for you,” says Joel, his hands curling into fists behind his back, “and you put a bullet in my head?”

“Not just your head, Joel,” says Cabrera. “When we're done with you, we’ll take your pretty girl as payment for my son’s life.”

Joel growls like a dog, blood roaring in his ears. “Kill me yourself, you goddamned coward. Kill me yourself and don’t you mention my wife again, or I swear to Christ—”

“You take His name in vain a lot for a nonbeliever,” says Cabrera, pulling his sleeves through his coat and setting his teeth as he looks toward Tommy once more. “Do it.”

“Yeah, brother,” Joel says darkly, “do it.”

Tommy nods once, planting his foot and pivoting. Five distinct sounds of handguns cocking echo throughout the warehouse as Tommy points the barrel between Manuel Cabrera’s eyes.

“Now that I’ve got a gun to your head,” he says evenly, “you can go ahead and pull that contract.”

Joel at last twists his wrists free of the ropes that bind them and shucks down the sleeves of his jacket to rub the raw skin. Not one soul does a goddamn thing to stop him as he rises to his feet. His chest heaves, his open lungs coarse and wet with a brittle rage, his exposed heart throbbing red, transparent as the stained glass windows of the church.

God does not tolerate anger, said the Sisters, again and again, bringing down the whip across his back. Sinew and bone and skin peeling back to lay bare some tender part of him they sought to rot out. Put your energy into His worship.

Slowly, Cabrera lifts his hands, sneering. “Your wife,” he warns, “and your unborn son—”

“Are family,” says Tommy. “Just like my brother. Now tell your guys to put down their guns and I won't kill you where you stand.”

Joel joins Tommy at his side. “Took you long enough,” he says under his breath. 

“Got held up,” he says. “Your wife’s a good artist.”

“Yeah, whatever. You bring me a gun?”

“I’m sure you can find one yourself.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I’m too old for this.” Joel turns to Cabrera and glares at the same stubborn arrogance that once gleamed in his son’s eye. “You pull the contract, and I’ll leave for good.”

Cabrera’s laugh weans out in the air like rings of smoke. “You think you can really leave, Joel? You think that there won't be consequences for what you've done to my son?”

“Yeah,” says Joel, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“And you?” Cabrera’s lip curls up at Tommy, whose gun no longer wavers in his grasp. “I promised your wife and child security. You’re willing to throw that away?”

“My wife and child are safe because I don’t take deals from men like you,” says Tommy. “You trusted a Miller to turn on his own blood, Manuel. That was stupid. Now pull the contract.”

“So this is your great suicide mission.” Cabrera smiles, a man who knows he has lost or a man who still expects not to. “A man who has seen Hell does not willingly descend back into its depths—not unless he likes the taste.”

Joel feels the corner of his mouth twitch, a wound on his cheek reopening. “Maybe I do,” he says plainly. “Maybe it’ll taste even better when I take you down with me.”

The gleam in Cabrera’s eye shifts as his gaze flickers behind Tommy. Night has since descended, and yet the predator’s eye glints in anticipation of the hunt. Joel turns and shoves his brother out of the way—just as the shot rings out. 

He hears Tommy’s breath punch out of him as they both hit the concrete hard. Joel tears the handgun from his brother’s grasp and puts a bullet between each of the two men behind them. He rolls behind one of the hulking bodies and holds up his weight as a shield against the incoming bullets. Tommy takes the dead man’s gun and fires at the remaining three assailants. Only one shot misses, but Joel sends his brother a look anyway and finishes the job. 

“Rusty,” grunts Tommy, pushing himself to his feet. 

Joel grimaces as he accepts his brother’s outstretched hand, his wrists bleeding from the relentless rub of the ropes. “He ran,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Goddamn coward. Just like his son.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way,” says Tommy, giving Joel the dead man’s gun and snatching back his own. “Saved your ass.”

“And he got away.” Joel kicks his chair, and the clattering echo of metal reverberates like a choir off the cavernous walls. His hands flex, open, closed, open, closed, until they make tight fists and he can see nothing but red and the silver moon mocking him through the broken windows high above. 

“Joel…”

For a moment, he hears the young boy his brother once was, whispering across their shared bedroom to him in the middle of the night when they were both meant to be asleep. 

Joel… Are we going to be okay?

“I gotta finish it, Tommy,” he says quietly, his hands shaking loose. Parts of him bite and sting, touched by new and old wounds alike, and he wants to come crawling home to you. He wants to curl into your side and wash away the blood in your cleansing pool, daisy and honeysuckle, some faraway field where you are the warden, where he knocks on the door to be let in, to be gathered, covered in white, buried, unearthed. 

“Was he right?” asks Tommy. “Do you… enjoy this?”

Joel casts his eyes toward the ground, his trembling hand, the gleaming band on his ring finger, his skin speckled with blood but the metal pristine. “I don’t know,” he says. 

This is who you are, Cabrera would tell him. The Sisters: Your place is here, under God, under His word. And God Himself, silent as the air, the ringing in his ears only ever quieted by the soft brush of your knuckle across his cheek, the whisper of My Joel in his ear. 

“Think hard on it,” says Tommy, “because you may like it, but you’ve gotta consider if your revenge is worth more than what you’ve already got. And if you choose wrong, Joel, you’re gonna lose no matter what.”

A figure leans stone-still against the wall by the hotel room door, the gleam of a blade in the soft light the only indication that it is not a mere shadow. 

“Hey, kid,” says the apparition. 

Joel nods in greeting. “Tess. Could get in trouble with that knife out in the open.”

“You expect me to keep your girl safe with just my fists?”

“You make it sound like you couldn’t.” Tess snorts, and Joel places fifteen gold coins in her waiting palm. “I appreciate you doing this.”

Tess peels away from the wall. “You and your brother are paying me good money to babysit a door. I think I can live without the thanks.”

“Still,” he says, “you did us a solid.”

Tess, who itches at the prospect of gratitude as much as any other gun-for-hire, shrugs. “Everyone’s saying you’re coming back. That true?”

“Just visiting,” says Joel. “On my way out soon.”

Tess flips one of the coins and turns it over and over across her knuckles, evidence of a restless energy that’s always made Joel’s eye twitch. “One way or another, huh?” she says.

“One way or another.” He shakes her hand and watches her retreat down the hall, still twirling the godforsaken coin, before he turns toward the door. Joel presses his forehead briefly to the cool wood and turns the key to seek the field that awaits him.

A key rustles in the door and Joel steps through, closing it gently behind him. Judging by the quiet click of the lock, he expects you to be asleep, but you jolt upright from your seat in the alcove and cross the room toward him.

He meets you halfway, his right hand flexing at his side. You inspect him: the gash on his cheek, the bruise on his jaw, the blood splattered on his white shirt. He makes no footfalls as he walks but you can hear every stride like thunder between your ears. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, cool from the night air, rough as the underside of a shark’s belly.

The moment coils taut between you as your hand reaches up to grab the lapel of his jacket, and he smells of iron, cologne, Joel, some paint. Maybe that smell is you, stuck underneath your fingernails, embedded in your blood. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe you could never help but fall, maybe it never mattered anyway, and you’re already snipping the final thread, unwinding the spool, and kissing Joel Miller like it’s the first time. 

He let out a small groan, tasting the first drop of water in a drought, steadying you with his arm around your waist, his hand cradling your head. He’s gentle, exploratory, careful not to jostle, to shock you out of it. You feel his heartbeat thud, strong, calm, steady behind his clothing and skin and muscle, and your body caves.

It’s coming home, you realise, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers tousling the messy curls on his head. It's the warm press of his hand to your spine where it begins to curve inward. It's a soft mouth, a plush lower lip, made for slow mornings and black coffee, for the aching release of a thumb pressing deep into a muscle knot, a wound. Old aches soothed in the space where bodies meet, beginning to colour the slate-grey world. 

It’s the exchange of gasping breaths when you pull apart, his mouth still vaguely chasing yours, opposite charge. 

You hold him tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat, your hands squeezing his shoulders. "Are you…"

Joel inclines his head. "Yeah."

"Did he..."

"Yeah."

Need pulses. Supernova. Bright as the moment of obliteration. "Can you—"

He nods vigorously. "Yeah."

Joel’s kisses are like raindrops: velvet-soft to the touch—his hands bringing the hem of your shirt up over your head, his fingertips scorching, branding, grazing the supple swells of your breasts—before the crescendo roars in your ears and he loses himself to the storm. He always does. 

There is nothing reserved about the way he shows his love. Lightning crackles across your skin where he touches you, baring you to him, his lips making a map of you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat. You hear yourself hum at the press of his lips to the spot beneath your ear, detaching from your own body, absconding with the pleasure of being close to him and leaving the fucking world behind. 

Joel staggers forward so he can press you to the wall and begins to sink to his knees. Your breath catches as he pulls down your ratty bottoms, your cotton panties, his mouth burning into your hips and your belly and the ring on your finger. 

“Joel,” you say brokenly as he clutches your fingers. Tears prickle, pressure building behind your nose, and he shakes his head, unfurling your palm like a bud in bloom and kissing its heel. Wordlessly, you watch him, your eyes shuttering, blood singing. 

Don't hurt me again. 

He understands even though the words cannot come alive on your tongue. He squeezes your hips, his thumbs dumpling your flesh, his forehead falling to your belly. 

“I’m yours,” he says. “I’m whatever you want.”

Your legs haven't forgotten the way they part so easily for him, one thigh on his shoulder, opening the core of you to his waiting mouth. His lips part, his tongue wetting them, glistening, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes so black. 

You could easily cower. His hands are stained with blood. His knuckles are split. But your terror has become an arid thing, no kindling to burn, no oil to ignite. Watching him now, as eager to please as he always has been or maybe more so, on his knees like a supplicant, the hairs on your arms do not rise in apprehension. Your body does not squirm in fear. You see a broad horizon, the sun outside spilling its golden blood over the city, and you see all of him in a way you never did before. 

He’s Joel, who grew up in darkness, lashed and beaten for not believing in a false god. He’s a man who has lied and killed and yet he is no liar, no killer. He holds you as he always has, your body liquid in his hands, your mouth proclaiming the word he will follow. You're the truth he's always told. 

It still unsettles you to see the dark eclipse that warm brown, to watch his desire consume the hypnotic shapes in his irises, and wonder if that cavernous black was the last thing so many men saw before he snuffed out their lives. But there's nothing of the death shudder in the way you guide your fingers through his hair and beg him—

“Please.”

He brings his mouth to your core and parts your folds with his thumbs, slowly gliding his warm, wet tongue through your slit. You die a hundred little deaths in the split-second of that first touch, that first agony.

You sigh, your head thudding against the wall as he licks through you, his hands holding your hips in place, keeping you from writhing. Joel flicks his tongue over the sensitive pearl of your clit, the pleasure searing, and you tug at his curls to push him away even as you cry out, More, please, please. God, I need more.

He obeys you as easily as breathing, though you suspect he can barely hear your pleas, opening his mouth and flattening his hot tongue to your clit. You gasp, your core pulling taut, your eyes locking with his as the muscle undulates over, over, and over again. 

“Oh,” you whimper, your hips bucking to meet his face. He groans, his mouth working your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking. You cry out, your leg kicking, the sounds of the world muffled in his stifling closeness. Your thighs begin to ache, tensing and relaxing a hundred times over in the throes of his attention. 

And his fingers are gliding across your hip, seeking the warmth between your legs. You gasp his name, your hips flexing, as he collects your wetness on two fingers. 

“Let me in, baby,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit. It relaxes you enough to welcome the press of his fingers inside you, sinking to the knuckle, curling up against the spot he would know in his sleep. 

You whine, your body keening toward him, tugging his face back toward your pussy. He obliges with a quiet moan, and you think he needs this just as badly. 

The obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rings in your ears as he licks and sucks at your clit, his free hand grabbing desperately at your ass to keep you fixed to him. You’re crying, “Yesyesyes, Joel, please—fuck, that's it,” the pleasure stuck in the grooves of your brain. Absentmindedly, you reach for his hand and clasp it tight, your engagement ring digging into his palm. He holds you with the same fervour as he coaxes you higher, his face buried in your pussy. He grunts and groans like it's his own pleasure he seeks, his battered knuckles stinging. 

“Joel… Joel, oh, I’m…”

He knows, of course, from the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his head, the relentless crushing of his fingers in your own, your body tightening for him, cavitating, unwinding—

You come with a shout, your throat raw, writhing in his grasp as he keeps sucking, keeps licking, rubbing, pressing. You're dizzy by the time your head lolls to the side, your muscles twitching, eyes glazed, and Joel is there, pulling his fingers out just to place them on his tongue and swallow you down. 

Your breath rattles through your lungs. Joel presses his lips to your inner thigh, beard soaked in your arousal, moustache glistening. His mouth soothes your sore muscles and your eyes begin to droop. 

“You need a shower,” you say, your tongue like lead in your mouth. You gently pass your thumb over a cut on his cheek and frown. “You're all bloody.”

He nuzzles his face against your thigh, inhaling you. “I know.”

“You were gone so long.” Your voice quivers, pressure prickling behind the bridge of your nose. “I thought…”

Joel rises to his feet, his hands cradling your face. “I’m all right,” he says. “I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together so the sob will not escape. Tracing his face with your fingers, broken in places, healing in others, you see the echo of a boy who didn't know his place in the world. You see the haunt of days gone by. A ghost still occupies the cage of his ribs. 

“I think you should tell the little boy that still lives here,” you say, putting your hand on his chest. “Tell him he’s alive. Tell him that he made it.”

Joel lowers his head, watching the way your fingers splay over his heart. He puts his hand on yours and pushes, and you feel the strong thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat. 

“He knows.”

You lean forward and put your mouth to his temple. “Shower, Joel,” comes your whisper in his ear. 

He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the bathroom. The water hits you both true, scalding, the drain circled with red. He’s naked, his back to you as he sets his hair and lets his wounds bleed what they need to. 

You lift your hands and trail them down his broad shoulders, your forehead dropping between his shoulder blades where your name is inked into his back. Joel’s muscles idly flex, his palm flat against the shower wall. His body shudders when you press your lips to the name on his back. 

Wordlessly, you bring your arms around him, caressing his side, careful of the new bruises. Your other hand drops to his steel-hard cock and you begin to slowly stroke him. The noise that wrenches free from his throat is half pleasure, half agony, his hips bucking into your fist. You bump your nose against his back, your years-old sign to Just relax, and Joel hides his face in his bicep as you work your hand over him.

“G—fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn… honey, I—”

You squeeze him at the base and twist your hand up and down the length of him, the weight warm and heavy, your thumb coaxing out a bead of precum. Your cheek is warm on his back, your arm struggling to reach around the width of him, your chest humming at the sound of his gruff moans. 

“Let me…” He cuts himself off as you speed up your strokes, and you can feel his abdomen tense. “Fuck, let me make you feel good. Shit… let me…”

“Joel,” you say, “for once, stop trying to be my hero.”

His head falls back and you press your lips to his throat, nibbling the sensitive spot behind his ear: the old scar, that tiny circle, that hairless patch. He groans your name, and you’re smiling despite yourself, your mouth curling against his warm, tender skin. 

“Inside me,” you whisper, the pace of your fingers over his length slowing to a crawl. “Remind me how it feels.”

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his lashes dewy, blinking hard to flick away the water, brow furrowed. His moustache bristles as his lips part in a question he does not (or maybe cannot) articulate, and you’re fractured into pieces by the intricate curve of his nose, the freckles on his jaw, the silver strands in his beard. A rough hand cups the back of your neck and another takes you by the waist, and you’re flattened to the wall, your hand braced on the glass next to you as he kisses you deeply. 

Consuming, heady, warm—you give in, your hands avoiding the delicate skin of his wrists where he’s been bound, helpless. Sighing softly into his mouth, you let his kiss humble the part of you that still needs the walls you’ve built from the marrow of your anger. It circles the drain, lead-filled paint, as you remember under his hands how it feels to live.

You reach between your bodies, your leg wrapping around his waist, and slide the head of his cock through your weeping slit. Joel sucks in air through his teeth, the water lashing his back like a whip, and he surges forward, grasping you by the waist and sinking his cock into your tight hole. 

You cry out his name, burying your face in his throat and baring your teeth. Your name leaves his mouth in kind, an apparition, sounds you barely recognise anymore. As you take him inside you, the memory of who you were with him pounds at your ribcage, begging to be let out. And you covet them, selfish as you are now for fucking him this way, needy and impatient, your fingers tugging his wet locks. 

You see no point in scooping out the marrow; there is still sweetness stuck to the bones of your old life with him. Instead, you coat your teeth in this, the slow drag of his cock, the depths he reaches so easily, so knowingly. His fingers prod the bruised flesh of your hurt and yet you still guide him inside. You still pull his hair and kiss his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and you still let him hold you close enough to splinter. 

He’s grabbing fistfuls of your ass and sucking on your throat, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold back, to make you come first, but you tighten, clenching down on him, making his groans pitch up into whines. 

“Joel,” you gasp, your needy fingers prickling his scalp where you pull his hair. His teeth graze your throat and you want him to bite, you want him to sink in deep, you want his jaws to latch onto your skin. You want him never to leave again. 

He comes hard. His hips buck, pushing so deep he disappears into your body, and you see the blues, browns, reds of your painting as he empties all he has left inside you. 

Panting, he drops his head to your breast, his open mouth still scattering weak, worn kisses over your skin. Your lungs expand under his palms, fingers stuck in the grooves between your ribs, his body an offshoot of yours, not the other way around. In the ringing afterlife of your pleasure, you vaguely feel him mouthing words you cannot hear. You run your fingers through his hair and enjoy the battering of the scorching water as it melts you both into one.

Later, in the sticky, humid silence of the bathroom, steam still swirling around your heads, fogging the glass, you trim Joel’s hair.

"Do you ever get scared?" you ask him, the shhhick of the scissors gliding across a chunk of his hair. "Do you ever go out on a job and think to yourself, What if I slip? What if this is it?"

Joel huffs. "It's not so much about myself as making sure the other guy goes down first."

“I think I’d be scared.” You twirl a lock of hair around your finger and let it fall over his forehead. “I don’t think I’d be able to look into someone’s eyes and take their life.”

He casts his eyes to his lap, flicking off some hair from his thigh. “One time, I thought it was over. I wasn’t quite seventeen yet, runnin’ drugs for some gangster. He sent me to El Sauzal to discreetly transport a couple kilos out of the city; someone had snitched and he didn’t want any rival gangs to find his stash. But the people there, they… They didn’t know any better. There were mothers, kids. Innocent people, y’know? Just strays. I decided I’d come back for ‘em.”

Your stomach twists. “What happened?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I was too late. By the time I got back, the whole goddamn city was on fire. The people were either dead in the streets or close to it. They didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They didn’t ask for any of it. But they were weaker, slower. I couldn’t walk ten feet without seein’ some kid wrapped up his mother’s arms, burned to a fucking crisp. So, I came back with weapons, marched into the gang’s territory, and I killed ‘em all.”

Days ago, you’d be afraid of the man whose back warms your belly where you stand just behind him. You would hesitate to reach out and put your hand on his shoulder the way you do now. But you curl your fingers over the muscled curve of his arm and his head falls back against you, spidering open, his gooey molten centre bared for you.

Joel. Just Joel. 

“Did you see the painting?” you ask him quietly. 

“I see everything you do,” he says. “It's beautiful, baby.”

You drop your gaze from his face in the mirror and set down the scissors on the vanity. “I can't pretend to understand what you've been through, Joel, and that makes things even harder. All I've ever wanted is to love you, to take your pain, and all this time there's been so much I never even knew about. And I’m sorry.”

Joel’s hand comes to cover yours, clasping your fingers. They’re warm, rough, but you do not sense the phantom blood. “If I’d told you from the beginning,” he says, “maybe I never would've hurt you in the first place. All those years I thought I was protecting you from myself, I was hurting you—the one thing I swore I would never fuckin’ do.”

“Joel…”

“Baby, don't apologise to me,” he says firmly, putting his lips to your knuckles. “Never apologise to me. And don't you let me off easy.”

“Have I ever?” you say with a halfhearted smile. 

“Yeah,” he says, “the day you let me marry you.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. Wedding planning was hell on earth for you.”

“Just because I didn't like the photographer—”

“You didn't not like the photographer, Joel. You wanted to draw and quarter the photographer.” 

He huffs like an angry dog, frowning at you in the mirror. “He kept puttin’ his goddamn hands on you.”

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the patch in his beard to indicate you're finished. “He was posing us, cowboy.”

Joel rises to his feet and closes the scissors away inside the drawer. “Posin’ you, sure.”

“He was afraid to touch you. Probably thought you’d take off his hand. And the pictures turned out great.”

“Yeah,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Way the sunlight caught in your hair, your eyes… I don't know. Beautiful.”

He was so shy the first time you kissed him. Cheeks flushed, eyes cast toward the ground, the wind ruffling his curls where it blew over the water. He was made in an artist’s image, you thought that night, the details pored over like paperwork, the sparkle in his eyes something the painter covets. But the portrait has never wilted in the years you've known him. It's grown older, sure, but it is not old. He's still shy sometimes; he still looks down when he smiles, and he still turns his cheek when you tell him he's beautiful. 

“Do you…” He rubs his palms over his thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “Do you wish you could go back?”

It's your turn to sit. You drop into his chair, your arms curling over the back of the seat, and watch him on his journey to his knees. “I don't know, Joel,” you tell him. “I think about that day and part of me wants the magic of it back. I want the breeze and the sun and the white canopy and I want you sliding this ring on my finger. But knowing what I know now…”

“You wouldn't have married me,” he says like it's the only answer. His eyes are wet and sad and they sparkle so bright in the day. 

“I wish I’d known,” you say plainly, bringing his hand to your cheek and resting it over the cool wedding band. “I wish you would have told me everything. I wish you didn't make me question your love, even for a second. I wish you could have spared me all this anger I have—all this pain.”

He’s stone-still, a figure in a portrait, and you brush your fingers across his cheek. “But killing isn't what you are, Joel. It’s what you do. And I’m so tired of being angry.”

You say it fiercely, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, your throat tightening. You swipe your thumbs under your eyes and meet your husband’s eye. “I love you more than my anger and my hurt have room for. And if I can love you this hard, if I can feel all this pain and still be that same girl who fell for the guy from the restaurant, then I can let myself get hurt all over again.”

Joel shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, baby…” 

“I know it's never been an easy marriage,” you say, your voice breaking, “and I’m always travelling, and I know that I can get snippy and we bicker, but I wouldn't go back to that day, Joel, because I wouldn't change anything. Even if I have to feel all of this again, I wouldn't take it all back.”

His inhale shudders through him and your heart lurches out of your chest. “I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that falls. “I’ve hurt you too much to ever be worthy of what you've given me, sweetheart. I ain't a good man, or even a decent one. But fuck, if I can be good for you, I’ll pray to whatever God they want me to. I’ll scrape my knees and put my hands together and fake it ‘til I’m someone you want. I swear it, baby.”

“Joel.” You gently pry his hands away. “The life you've lived, the things you've been through… I can't change any of it. I can't be what you need all the time, and fuck, I want to be. I do, Joel. But this life is something you have to figure out yourself. Nobody should force you to believe in something that's only ever caused you pain.”

He never told you about the tattoo; you had to find it yourself. Shucking the hem of his shirt up over his head, two weeks separating the last time you’d been able to indulge in his body, you trailed your fingers up his back and paused at the sound of him hissing through his teeth. 

“Easy, cowboy,” you cooed. “Are you all right?”

Wordlessly, he turned, taking your hand and lifting it to the reddish skin around the black ink. You gasped, your fingers jolting backward as if struck by a feeler of lightning. 

“Joel,” you said tremulously, “please don't tell me you were drunk and this was an impulse decision.”

“Guys in the Marines would get tattoos that meant somethin’ to them. Easier to carry around with you when you're away.” Joel met your gaze again, your tearful eyes, and brought your knuckles to his mouth. “Tell me you want it gone, and it's gone.”

You shook your head, a laugh snaking past the lump in your throat. “Selfishly, I think it’s very sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing the breath from your lungs. 

The memory is heavy in your stomach. It's something you'll have to roll around in your mouth a thousand times before the taste begins to dissolve. 

“I need time, Joel,” you tell him. “I need to wrap my head around things. I… I can't be the girl you want right now.”

Joel brushes his thumb over your chin. “You have always been the girl I want,” he says. “If you need time, you have it. If you need a warm body, you have it. I’m whoever you want me to be. And if it ain't a husband, then… then that's okay. But I can’t promise you that I won't stop tryin’ to get my wife back. That’s not who I am.”

You sniffle, twirling the ring on his finger. “You’ll get sick of it. The waiting.”

He smiles so softly that you can feel a bud begin to bloom in the core of you, nourished by the way he keeps his hand on your thigh, absently rubbing the sore muscles there.  “I waited my whole life for someone like you to come along—someone who could give me the purpose I’d been lookin’ for. I can wait another lifetime. I can wait a thousand.” 

“You’ll resent me. You’ll start to hate me.” You don't know why it comes pouring out of you, but the gates are brittle wood and they snapped in the torrent. “I’m an angry drunk. I smell like paint half the time. I travel for work.”

Joel just studies your face, some inexplicable calm etching out the agony. “You take your coffee with milk and sugar and you can't stand it black, but you make it that way for me anyway. You sleep until noon when you're jet lagged and I sit up in bed just to watch you dream. You lie in my arms on the couch at home and ask me about my day even when you're noddin’ off. You dreamed about love when you were a little girl, the way it happens in books. You told me in your wedding vows that you'd found it with me. You think I could resent a girl like that?”

He smiles like it hurts and heals all at once, like it's a foregone conclusion, like you were meant to be loved by him. 

“Time doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I know the girl I see in front of me now. Time won't change how much I love her.”

Flipping through the list of potential venues, Joel tucked into your side, you said, “We’ll have an outdoor ceremony. No churches.”

“Baby, I won't burst into flames if I step inside a church.” Joel playfully flicked his tongue over your nipple, obscured by his T-shirt. “Tommy, on the other hand… things he's done…”

You laughed, gently pushing at his head. “No churches,” you said again. “I don't care how much more we’ll have to pay or travel to get around it. You're my husband. You're my comfort, and I want to be what's comfortable for you. Understood?”

He looked up at you, his lips parted as if on the precipice of speech. You beamed, bringing his face to yours and kissing him deeply. 

“But if the wind knocks over the gazebo, you're not getting your dick inside me on our wedding night,” you said against his mouth. Joel shook his head, yanking you on top of him and tearing the shirt from your body. Your binder landed with a flutter of loose pages to the floor. 

“You didn't kill Cabrera.”

Joel lowers his eyes. “No. He got away.”

“So there's still a contract on your head.”

“For now.”

“So,” you say with a sigh, crossing the room and digging through your bag, “you have to go.”

“I have to go,” he echoes, following you like a shadow. “No matter what… I’m finishing it. Tonight.”

You pull the switchblade from your bag, open Joel’s fist, and place the cool wood hilt in his palm. 

“Goddammit, Tommy,” he says under his breath. “He shouldn't have…”

“But he did,” you say. “He said I should be the one to have it. I think it should be yours.”

He curls his fingers over the hilt and flicks open the blade. It's light, but it seems to weigh him down. You rest your hand over his. 

“Do what you need to do.”

He drops his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, soaking in this final breath exchanged between your silent bodies, dipping his fingers in the sanctified waters and coming out unscalded. 

Bill calls Joel not a moment after he steps onto the street outside the Continental. 

“That's a heavy price on your head.”

“Yeah, Bill, I know.” He breathes in the cool air, like cigarette smoke, his nostrils stinging. Trash and a new, fresh breeze carried into the city. Nothing that stays here ever thrives. “Stayed alive so far.”

“So I hear,” grunts the Manager, “and leaving behind a hell of a lot of cleanup.”

“I won't stick you with the check,” says Joel. “It's my business.”

“I don't conduct business inside this hotel,” says Bill, “which is why I won't tell you that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is refuelling as we speak.”

Joel smirks, flicking out his cuff to check the time. “Any reason why you aren't tellin’ me this?”

“I like you, Joel. Despite myself.” 

Silent, he waits for more. 

“Besides,” Bill continues, “we live and die by honour. And you've saved my ass more than once.”

Joel snorts. “Which time are you thankin’ me for?”

“Just take my goddamn advice and leave this world. For good this time.”

“I will,” says Joel. “One way or another. Thanks, Bill.”

High above the ground, sitting in the alcove by the window, you watch storm clouds gather over the city, darkening the sky, the sun, and your Joel, so far away, slouching calmly toward whatever end he will choose. 

It's raining. 

The first time you kissed him, a downpour suddenly swept up the both of you and you'd scrambled underneath a bridge by the water. You both laughed until your ribs were sore, holding hands as you ran, a soaking wet playbill above each of your heads for cover. 

“At least the show was good,” you shouted over the roar of the rainfall. 

Joel was mesmerised into stillness by the colours of the traffic lights in your eyes, how they shifted over the planes of your face. Starting to think like an artist, you'd tease, and he'd lean into it, a planet circling its sun. 

“It was all right,” he said, taking the playbill from your hand. “You could catch a cold. We should get a cab.”

“Always my hero.” You grinned up at him, your eyes scanning his face in that particular way they did, as if ingesting the sight of him to later put the lines to a canvas. “Did you have a good time, Joel? I mean, really. You won't offend me.”

He grimaced. “I, uh… well, see, I’m not the best judge, and… I guess—”

“Joel.”

There was a gleam in your eyes that could have been amusement or could have been hunger. He doesn't remember. He only saw you tilt your chin and lower your eyes to his mouth, to that one place the Sisters always called vulgar, obscene, a place meant only for His word—

“Can I kiss you, Joel Miller, or will you keep being all heroic?”

It was soft, gentle, exploratory. Your mouth opened his like a wound, setting the scorching blade of your lips to the gash, staunching the blood. You healed and burned him, one hand on his back beneath his jacket, the other cupping his face. It reminded him of the statue that lived in the theatre underneath the church where all the boys and girls trained. An angel cast in white marble, cradling the face of Saint Eustace. The statue was chipped where his eye was meant to be. 

He remembers the way he shuddered when you touched him like that. He remembers the chill that started in his feet and crept up his spine. Something like coming alive, settling back into his own body—no longer a spirit haunting the shell of a home but a man. 

You pulled back, but Joel curled his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you again, deeper, maybe a little too eager, too inexperienced—but you gasped, fingers curling in his hair, your body curving into his. Your noses bumped when you separated, and he remembers laughing. 

The rain is nothing like that night. It's the lash of a whip across his face, seeping colour from the world instead of infusing it with light and movement. The water by the docks slaps against the concrete and boats rock and groan against their mooring. The lights of the city are distant now. 

Joel steps out of the car. 

He marches toward his target, cocking the pistol in his hand, and calls out a name. It gets lost in the roll of thunder across the sky and lodges in his chest. 

Cabrera waits on the landing pad, looking wraithlike in a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His pilot fuels the helicopter nearby. Neither of them hear Joel’s voice in the air. The rising sun is what gives him away—or maybe the gunshot, as he lifts his arm and pulls the trigger. 

It does not pierce flesh. It ricochets off one of the rotor blades. He had aimed slightly to the left. 

The pilot scampers off into hiding, but the slash of the bullet through the rainfall is enough to get the attention Joel wants. Cabrera reaches inside the lining of his jacket and fires a single shot. Joel can feel it tear through skin and muscle, but it doesn't hurt. 

“Joel,” greets Cabrera. 

“Manuel.” 

His chest heaves, his jacket soaked through, the cold sinking bone-deep. 

“Let's finish this.”

The glimmer in those depthless black eyes is the panther at the hunt, relentless in its hunger, licking its chops at the sight of a challenge. For all the coward’s blood in his veins, it still pulses at the prospect of winning. 

“Like men,” says Cabrera, tossing his gun aside at the same time Joel does. “With honour. No more guns.”

And it's laughable: the thought that there is any honour left in a world like this. A world where children are beaten and lashed and trained to hold a weapon too big for their hands. A world that burns villages, butchers families, and still claims that without rules, we live with the animals. 

A world as unruly as this cannot be ruled. He never truly considered it until he saw the sad gleam in your eye, felt the empathetic touch of your hand on his face, and began to realise that maybe he should be furious. 

But because he already knows he's going to win, Joel lets his opponent land the first blow. 

The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it. 

Cabrera hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, Cabrera stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears. 

Cabrera drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's come to take his life. 

And fuck, Joel wants to make it last. 

But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of Cabrera’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.

Yowling, Cabrera drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.

His name leaves Cabrera’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet. 

“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”

He could. He has done far worse. He has spilled blood for gold coins and superficial alliances and someone else's revenge. He has stalked, stolen, lied, killed, and he could finish this now, so easily, with the flick of a blade. 

But the song of death does not call to him now. 

For so long he had trudged, unmoored, through heavy crimson blood. Like pulling at the seams of velvet, he'd sewn more lives into the sea of red and he never looked behind him to see the souls trying to pull him down at the ankles. He didn't know purpose until he saw the way the candlelight flickered in your eyes, until he tilted his head to the side and realised your smile was a new kind of beautiful from each angle. 

The rain sticks to his lashes and he thinks of an old song of prayer the Sisters used to chant. He remembers curling his fingers around one of the rosaries that hung from the large cross in the cathedral and wincing in anticipation. He thought he would burn—that the metal would leave a red stain on his palm. It never did. 

Maybe that's why he never believed. Surely, if there was a God, Joel Miller would have burned by now. 

He thinks of shopping for furniture and date nights and lazy mornings, tangled in bedsheets. Your mouth, smiling against his, whispering I love you across the breakfast table. Dancing—or swaying, more like—under the kitchen light. Loving easily, never feeling as if he must grab hold of the cross and burn himself upon it just to feel. 

Joel turns the switchblade in his hand, lurches forward, and plunges the knife into Cabrera’s chest. 

There is no noise but a faint gurgle from his mouth, his hand weakly rising to grasp the hilt. Joel drops to his knees and fishes Cabrera’s cell phone from his pocket. 

“The blade is stuck in your aorta,” he says. “If you pull it out, you’ll bleed out and die.” He puts the rain-slick screen in front of Cabrera’s face. “Pull the contract.”

A few feeble taps are all it takes, and Joel Miller is no longer a target. His name glares back at him on the screen, from two million to nothing, not the boogeyman any longer but something akin to a civilian. Joel tosses the phone into the water and turns to leave. 

“See you in hell, Joel,” Cabrera chokes, still grasping the shiny wooden hilt of the blade.

He barely hauls himself into the car, which chokes to a rumbling start. There's blood seeping through his shirt where Cabrera shot him, and his fingers shake as they pull away from the wound, the red so bright, so alive. Joel grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. 

If there’s a God, he thinks, I hope you fucking hear me now. 

Tell me that we don’t get what we deserve. Because there is nothing I deserve in this world if I cannot keep what I’ve found.

His fingers trembling, smearing blood across the screen, he makes a call. 

And your voice on the line, soft, sticky with sleep, whispering his name—just his name: Joel?—is what wrenches the first sob from his throat. 

Joel, you say, like it means something, like it's precious. A jewel pressed from dusty black coal. Come back to me. Come home. 

So he does. 

[theetherealbloom]

Rules: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

AHHHHHHH thank you so much for the tag @wheresarizona

here's a sneek peak of chapter 4 of But Daddy I Love Him:

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @dindjarindiaries @dins-riduur-anthe

and anyone else who wants to join!

Rules: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Thank you for the tag @toomanystoriessolittletime!! 😘😘😘

Here’s something from part 2 of ‘but I would die for you in secret.’

I’m gonna tag based on just the last sentence.

Tagging: @juletheghoul @littlemisspascal @iamskyereads @theetherealbloom

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM - CH.3

Chapter 3: ​​Dutiful Daughter, All My Plans Were Laid

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking Around, FLUFF, LOTS OF SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Oral Fem Receiving, Kissing, Barely any plot, NOT A SLOW BURN AT ALL, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content, Size Kink, Reader is “smaller” than Joel but no further descriptions, Breeding Kink, PWP (wrap it up), Body worship, declaring their love for each other, 

Word Count: 10k

A/N: THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU… UHM, HI! We’re nearing the end of the mini-series. I believe I have one or two more chapters to write and then we’ll have the epilogue. Thank you for all the comments, reblogs and likes! I look forward to reading all the feedback from ya’ll, it really does give me the motivation to write. Thank you all again!!! 🤍☺️

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As you lay there, wrapped in Joel's arms, you can't help but steal a glance at the small alarm clock on the nightstand. The glowing numbers tell you that it's nearly 3am, and as much as you don't want to leave the warmth of his bed and his embrace, you know that you can't stay forever.

Your dad is expecting you for breakfast in just a few hours, and the thought of him having a heart attack if you don't show up is enough to make you sit up and take notice.

"I don't wanna leave," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you snuggle closer to Joel, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin.

"I don't wanna let you go," Joel replies, his accent thick and heavy as he tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer still.

You can feel the heat of his body, the strength of his muscles, and the warmth of his embrace, and you know that you could stay there forever, wrapped up in him.

But reality calls, and you know that you can't ignore it forever.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," you say, your voice filled with longing and sadness.

"Me too, darlin'," Joel replies, his voice filled with emotion. "But we both know that we can't."

You nod, your heart heavy with the weight of the decision you both know you have to make.

"I guess I should get going," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I guess you should," Joel replies, his voice filled with regret.

As you reluctantly pull away from Joel, he surprises you by gently tugging you back into his embrace, his lips seeking yours in a kiss that is both passionate and intense. The taste of him lingers on your lips, a bittersweet reminder of the connection you share.

With a soft sigh, you finally gather the strength to untangle yourself from his arms, a pang of longing tugging at your heart as you begin to get dressed. Joel watches you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, his southern drawl adding a soothing cadence to his words.

"Let me help you, darlin'," Joel offers, his voice warm and comforting as he assists you with your clothes, his touch gentle yet possessive. The intimacy of the moment lingers in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you share.

Once you're dressed, Joel's arms wrap around you, holding you close as if reluctant to let you go. His embrace is both clingy and sweet, a silent plea for you to stay a little longer, to prolong the inevitable parting.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Joel murmurs, his voice filled with longing. "I could hold you like this forever."

You lean into his embrace, savoring the warmth and security he provides. "I wish I could stay too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion. "But I have to go."

As you prepare to leave, Joel's gaze lingers on you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and regret. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of his affection and devotion.

"I'll be counting the minutes until I can see you again," Joel says, his voice filled with sincerity. "You mean everything to me, darlin'."

As you step out onto Joel's front porch, the cool night air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his embrace. You take a deep breath, savoring the scent of the night, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision to leave.

You make your way quietly and quickly to the back of your house, tiptoeing through the darkness, your mind filled with thoughts of Joel and the intense connection you share. As you slip back into your bedroom, you can't help but feel a sense of bliss and excitement, knowing that you'll see Joel again in just a few short hours.

The anticipation builds within you, a simmering heat that courses through your veins, fueled by the memories of your time together. You can't wait to feel his touch again, to lose yourself in the passion and intensity of your connection.

As you lay in bed, your mind drifts to thoughts of Joel, his drawl echoing in your mind, his words of love and devotion filling your heart with warmth and joy. You know that what you have together is special, a bond that goes beyond mere physical attraction.

You close your eyes, drifting off to sleep with a smile on your face, your dreams filled with the promise of a future filled with passion and love.

As the morning sunlight streams through your window, you wake up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, the memories of the previous night still fresh in your mind. You can't wait to see Joel again, to feel his arms around you, to lose yourself in the intensity of your connection.

With a sense of excitement and anticipation, you get ready for the day, your heart filled with hope and joy, knowing that you have found something truly special in Joel.

You make your way downstairs to find your dad had gotten up extra early today. He glances at you and asks, "Well, someone's happy this morning. Did you sleep well honey?"

"Huh, what? Oh... yeah, I was pretty tired from yesterday so I just kinda passed out," you say, trying to be nonchalant. But you can see your dad give you a suspicious look before taking a long sip of his coffee.

"So... you and Joel..." Your dad begins, and you feel blood rushing into your ears, making you feel dizzy.

You raise your eyebrows at your dad, waiting for him to continue.

He clears his throat and says, "You gonna go with him to pick up Sarah later?"

You nod and smile at the mention of Sarah, "Mhm! I'll text you when we're leaving."

"Alright then, just..." Before your dad could finish that sentence, the doorbell rings, and you watch as your dad moves to the front door. When he opens it, Joel is standing there in a grey tee and those tight jeans with his hands in his pockets.

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him. "Fuck. He looks so good," you think to yourself, your body responding to his presence in a way that you can't control.

"Hey there, darlin'," Joel says, his deep Southern accent sending shivers down your spine.

"Hey," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you take in the sight of him standing on your doorstep.

Your dad has his eyes narrowed between the two of you, before saying, "Be sure to tell Sarah hi for me, I'll be going now."

You and Joel say goodbye, and watch as your dad hops into his car and drives off to work, leaving you alone with Joel.

"I missed you," Joel says, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You melt into his arms, feeling the warmth and strength of his body against yours.

"I missed you too," you reply, your voice filled with longing.

As you pull away, Joel's gaze lingers on you, his eyes filled with desire and affection.

"Let's go pick up Sarah," he says, his voice filled with excitement.

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation as you make your way to the car. The feeling of gratitude for the connection you share with Joel washes over you, knowing that it's something truly special and rare.

As you approach the car, Joel grabs the keys from your hand and gives your ass a playful smack, causing you to jolt in surprise.

"Hey!" you exclaim, looking at him with mock indignation.

Joel's smoldering gaze meets yours, filled with a mischievous glint that makes your heart race.

"Darlin', you just sit back and relax," he drawls in that deliciously Southern accent of his, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm in charge of the driving, and you're in charge of lookin' like a damn goddess."

You can't help but smile at his playful banter, feeling your heart flutter with excitement as you slide into the passenger seat. Joel's eyes follow your every move, and you can't help but feel a little self-conscious under his intense gaze.

As he starts the car, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment and happiness wash over you. The connection you share with him is electric, a magnetic pull that draws you in and makes you feel alive.

With one hand on the steering wheel, Joel reaches out to place his other hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. You let out a soft moan, biting your lip as you feel a spark of desire ignite within you.

"You like that, don't you?" Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky. "You like when I touch you like this."

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. Joel's touch is intoxicating, making you feel dizzy with desire.

"Good," he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because I love touching you, feeling your body respond to my touch. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go."

You lean back in your seat, feeling a sense of contentment and happiness wash over you as Joel's words of love and affection fill your ears.

"So... darlin'... how'd you feel about tellin' Sarah about us?" Joel asks, his Southern accent sending shivers down your spine as he rubs his thumb gently on your thigh.

You play the thought through your mind, considering the implications of sharing your relationship with Sarah.

"You want her to know?" you ask, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Joel nods, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "Of course, darlin'. Do you?"

You take a deep breath, thinking it over. "Will she be okay with it?"

Joel smiles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "With you and I? Yeah. To be honest... I talk about you to her... a lot."

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of Joel sharing his feelings for you with Sarah. "Really?"

Joel nods, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on your thigh. "Yeah, darlin'. I can't help it. I'm crazy about you."

You can't help but smile at his words, feeling a sense of belonging and love that you've never experienced before.

"Okay," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Let's tell her."

Joel's face lights up, his eyes shining with happiness. "Really?"

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation wash over you. "Yeah. I want to share this with her. I want her to know how much you mean to me."

Joel leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your hand. "Thank you, darlin'. I promise you won't regret it."

As you and Joel make your way to the parking lot of the airport, the anticipation of reuniting with Sarah and Tommy fills the air with excitement. The energy between you and Joel crackles with anticipation as you head towards the arrivals area, scanning the crowd for their familiar faces.

And then, there they are. Sarah and Tommy, standing out in the crowd like beacons of joy. You can't contain your excitement and start waving your arms wildly, practically bouncing up and down with anticipation.

Sarah's eyes light up as she spots you, and she breaks into a wide grin, her steps quickening as she rushes towards you and Joel. Tommy follows closely behind, a smile playing on his lips as he takes in the scene before him.

"Hey, you guys!" Sarah exclaims, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug, her excitement contagious.

Sarah then turns to Joel, her eyes sparkling with joy as she throws her arms around his neck, embracing him with her whole body.

"Hi dad," she says, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

Joel's face lights up at the sight of his daughter, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for a tight hug.

"I missed you too, baby girl," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, his love for her radiating off of him in waves.

You watch the exchange between Joel and Sarah, feeling a sense of warmth and happiness wash over you. The bond between father and daughter is something special, a testament to the love they share.

Your gaze shifts to Tommy, and you make your way over to him, a friendly smile on your face. You wrap your arms around him in a warm embrace, feeling the strength and warmth of his body against yours.

"Hey there, it's good to see you!" you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine warmth and affection.

Tommy returns your embrace, his arms tightening around you for a moment before releasing you.

"Hey, it's good to see you too!" he replies, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

You take a step back, your hands still resting on his shoulders. "So, how was the flight?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Tommy shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, you know, the usual. Turbulence, crying babies, and the occasional snoring passenger."

You laugh, the sound rich and full. "Sounds like a blast," you say, your voice filled with sarcasm.

Tommy grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, it was. Trust me."

As you all make your way to the car, the banter and teasing flow freely, the shared history and inside jokes adding to the sense of closeness between you.

Joel takes the lead, helping Tommy load his and Sarah's suitcases into the trunk of your car. His strong arms lift the heavy bags with ease, his movements fluid and efficient.

Sarah watches him with a proud smile on her face, her eyes filled with admiration and love.

"Hey dad, can I sit up front with you?" she asks, her voice filled with excitement and hope.

Joel shakes his head, a gentle smile on his face. "Sorry, baby girl. It wouldn't be polite to do that since it's not my car."

Sarah pouts, her bottom lip sticking out in disappointment. "But I want to sit up front with you!"

Joel ruffles her hair affectionately. "I know, but we have to be polite. Maybe next time, okay?"

Sarah nods, her disappointment forgotten as quickly as it appeared. She climbs into the back seat, her eyes sparkling with excitement and joy.

Tommy follows suit, his movements easy and relaxed. He slides into the back seat next to Sarah, a friendly smile on his face.

As you all settle into your seats, the car is filled with laughter and chatter, the shared excitement of the journey ahead palpable in the air.

As Joel navigates the car out of the airport and onto the road leading back to his house, a sense of contentment washes over you. The familiar sights pass by outside the windows, the hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop to the lively conversation inside.

You feel Joel's hand on your upper thigh, his touch warm and reassuring, a silent declaration of his affection for you. Your heart flutters at the intimate gesture, and you steal a glance at him, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.

In the rearview mirror, you catch Tommy raising his eyebrows playfully, a knowing look in his eyes. Sarah, oblivious to the silent exchange, gazes out the window, her expression one of wonder and excitement.

The dynamic in the car is one of comfort and familiarity, each person bringing their own energy to the mix. Joel's presence is a steady anchor, his touch a source of comfort and reassurance. Tommy's playful teasing adds a lightness to the atmosphere, while Sarah's infectious enthusiasm fills the space with joy.

Eventually, you arrive back at Joel's house, the journey from the airport filled with laughter and chatter. As you all step out of the car, you lend a hand to Joel and Tommy, helping them with the suitcases and other items as you all make your way into the house.

Tommy excuses himself to put away his things in the guestroom, while Sarah does the same in her new room. You take the opportunity to help Joel fix up a few snacks for Tommy and Sarah, the two of you working together with ease and familiarity.

As you put the finishing touches on the snacks, you feel Joel's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close. His lips find your neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin as he inhales your scent.

You lean back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The connection between you two is intense, a magnetic pull that draws you closer together.

As Tommy makes his way back into the living room, Joel releases you, a playful smile on his face.

"I see you two found each other," Tommy says with a wink, a teasing glint in his eye.

You feel your face heat up, but Joel just chuckles, his arm draped around your shoulders.

"Can't help it," Joel says with a shrug, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before turning back to Tommy.

Tommy raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye. "You gonna tell Sarah?" he asks, grabbing a potato chip from the ceramic bowl on the counter.

Joel nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, when she gets down here," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Just then, Sarah appears from around the corner, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I knew it! Finally! He's been talking about you non-stop and was an absolute grump for the past few months!" she exclaims, a wide grin spreading across her face.

You feel your cheeks flush at the mention of Joel's infatuation with you, but Sarah's excitement is infectious.

Joel chuckles, his arm draped around your shoulders. "I guess the cat's out of the bag now," he says, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

Sarah claps her hands together, her eyes shining with joy. "I'm so happy for you two!" she exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug.

Tommy joins in, a warm smile on his face. "Welcome to the family," he says, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

You quickly send a message to your dad, updating him on your whereabouts and letting him know that you'll be having dinner with the Millers, and that he's welcome to join you all.

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter and conversation, the four of you sharing stories and memories as you get to know each other better.

As you were nearing finishing dinner, you hear a knock on Joel's front door, and he excuses himself to answer it. You continue to laugh loudly at Sarah's jokes while Tommy rolls his eyes playfully.

But then, you hear a familiar voice call out your name, and you find your dad standing by the entryway of the dining area. The room falls silent as all eyes turn to him.

"Hey Dad... we just had dinner. Do you want anything? I'm sure I can fix you up a plate," you say, standing up to greet him.

Your dad shakes his head. "No, just had dinner with some of the guys back at the shop. I wanted to say hi to Sarah and Tommy. Didn't think you'd still be here... thought you'd be home already," he says, giving you and Joel a pointed look.

Sarah, bless her heart, quickly jumps in to save the day. "Oh! That's my fault. I insisted she stay here for dinner since I missed her so much," she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Your dad chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "Well, I'm glad you're having a good time. I'll let you all get back to it, just don’t be home too late," he says, giving you a quick hug before turning to leave.

As the door closes behind your dad, a sense of calm settles over the room. You all let out a collective sigh of relief, the tension dissipating as you begin to help clear the table and clean up the dishes. You insist that Sarah and Tommy take a break and get some rest after the meal.

Just as you're elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on a plate, you feel Joel's presence behind you. His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you gently away from the sink.

"I'll wash 'em, darlin'," he says, his voice soft and reassuring. "You can rest too. You've done so much already. I can take it from here."

You turn to face him, a grateful smile on your lips. "Are you sure? I don't mind helping," you say, your voice filled with appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

Joel's gaze meets yours, his eyes warm and filled with affection. "I'm sure. You've been a big help today. Let me take care of this," he says, his drawl adding a soothing cadence to his words.

"I'll help dry the dishes and put them away," you say, grabbing a towel from the drawer next to the sink.

Joel chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist as he presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head. "Fine, darlin'," he says with a wink.

You bump your hip with his, a playful grin on your face. "Come on, slowpoke. Let's get these dishes done," you say, sticking your tongue out at him teasingly.

Joel laughs, the sound deep and rich. "Alright, alright. Let's get to work," he says, his arms still wrapped around you as you begin to dry the dishes together.

The warmth of Joel's body against yours, the sound of his laughter, and the easy banter between you creates a sense of comfort and familiarity that you cherish.

As you work together, the pile of dishes slowly dwindles, the kitchen gradually returning to its former state of cleanliness.

Finally, the last dish is dried and put away, and you turn to face Joel, a satisfied smile on your lips. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" you say, your voice filled with playful teasing.

Joel grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "No, darlin', it wasn't. But I think I'll let you do the dishes next time," he says, his arms still wrapped around you.

You laugh, the sound rich and full. "We'll see about that," you say, your voice filled with playful challenge.

You and Joel make your way back to the living room, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Tommy and Sarah are settled on the couch, their attention focused on the TV as they watch some show they had found.

Sarah turns her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she tilts it at the two of you. "So... when are you gonna tell your dad?" she asks, her voice filled with playful teasing.

You glance at Joel, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. "I'm not sure... but hopefully... soon," you say, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Joel nods, his arm draped around your shoulders as he pulls you closer. "Yeah, we'll tell him when the time is right," he says, his voice filled with confidence and reassurance.

Tommy turns his head, a knowing look in his eyes as he takes in the exchange between you and Joel. "Well, whenever you're ready, we'll be here to support you," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Sarah nods, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yeah, we can't wait to see what the future holds for you two," she says, her voice filled with genuine happiness.

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over you all. But then, the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air once again, the tension dissipating as you all settle in to enjoy the rest of the evening together.

As you lean into Joel's embrace, his arm wrapped around you, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. 

"I had a lot of fun today," you say softly as Joel walks you back home, the short distance feeling longer with each step as a mix of excitement and nervousness swirls within you.

Joel's hands are tucked away in his jeans, a subtle restraint evident as he refrains from intertwining his fingers with yours, a silent acknowledgment of the need for caution in the presence of your father.

He hums in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "I did too," he replies, his voice warm and filled with affection.

You glance up at him, a hint of longing in your eyes. "Wish I could stay over tonight, but y'know... my dad," you sigh, the reality of the situation sinking in as you step onto the familiar steps of your front porch.

Joel nods, understanding the unspoken boundaries that need to be respected. "I get it. We'll have plenty of time for that," he says, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of desire and restraint.

You smile, your heart filled with gratitude. "Yeah, definitely. Thanks for walking me home," you say, your voice soft and sincere.

Joel leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Anytime, darlin'," he murmurs, his deep baritone sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been meanin' to ask you... d'you mind comin' with me to grab a bite to eat and then head to the store to pick up a few more things for the house tomorrow?"

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. "Of course," you reply, your voice filled with eagerness. But then you remember, “You know what small towns are like. People talk.”

“I can’t guarantee anything,” Joel admits. “But we can only do our best to keep our hands off each other until it’s the right time to have everyone know. If you think that’s for the best,” he susgests, and only try to make you feel better.

You let out a small sigh and eventually nod and give him a small smile in agreement.

Joel's eyes sparkle with affection. "I'll see you soon, darlin'," he says, sweet as whiskey.

As you watch Joel's retreating figure, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the warmth and affection that fills your heart. Reluctantly, you turn and head back towards your house, the day's events still lingering in your mind.

The familiar surroundings of your home envelope you, the sound of the television filtering in from the living room. You pause in the entryway, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before making your way towards the comforting glow of the screen.

"Hey, Dad," you call out, your voice filled with a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Your father looks up from the television, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Hey, kiddo. How was your day?" he asks, his eyes filled with genuine interest.

"It was good," you reply, trying to sound casual. "I'm going with Joel tomorrow to help him pick up some stuff for his house."

Your father raises his eyebrows, a hint of a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Oh, alright. Sarah and Tommy coming too?"

You shake your head, feeling a slight flutter in your stomach. "I don't think so... I think they wanna fix their things and rest up a bit."

Your father nods, his gaze studying you for a moment, a hint of a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Just the two of you, huh?" he says, his voice laced with slight concern.

You feel your cheeks flush, but you hold your father's gaze, determined to be honest. "Yeah, just the two of us," you confirm, your voice soft but steady.

Your father leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Alright," he says, his voice calm and reassuring. "Just text me when you leave, okay?"

You nod, a grateful smile spreading across your face. "Thanks, Dad," you say, your voice filled with appreciation.

You feel a warmth spread through your chest, the weight of the day's events finally starting to catch up with you. "I'm gonna head to bed," you say, stifling a yawn. "I'm kinda exhausted."

Your father chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. "Get some rest, kiddo. You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow," he says.

You nod, leaning in to give your father a quick hug. "Thanks, Dad. I love you," you murmur, your voice filled with emotion.

"Love you too, kiddo," he replies, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull away.

You tuck yourself into the cozy comfort of your bed, a big smile spreading across your face as you let out a contented sigh. 

As you settle into the familiar softness of your pillows, your mind can't help but wander to Joel. The thought of spending the day with him tomorrow fills you with a sense of giddiness and anticipation that you can't quite contain.

You hum a soft, lilting melody to yourself as you move through your morning routine, the excitement for the day ahead bubbling within you. The sound of your father stirring in the kitchen reaches your ears, and you know he's likely headed out for an early shift at the shop.

After quickly whipping up a simple breakfast, you hear a familiar knock at the front door, and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face as you practically bound towards it.

Pulling the door open, your eyes are immediately drawn to the sight of Joel standing there, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe. His silver curls are neatly pushed back, and he's dressed in a different colored flannel than the one he wore the day before, paired with his well-worn jeans.

A smirk plays on his lips as he takes in the sight of you, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and mischief.

"Mornin', darlin'," he drawls, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hi," you breathe, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, yet unable to tear your gaze away from him.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and rich. "You ready to head out?" he asks, his arm reaching out to gently brush against yours.

You nod, your heart fluttering at his touch. "Just let me grab my bag," you say, turning to retrieve it from the nearby table.

As you turn back to face him, you catch a glimpse of your father in the kitchen, offering you a warm smile and a subtle nod of approval. The gesture fills you with a sense of comfort and reassurance.

Turning your attention back to Joel, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement and anticipation. "Okay, I'm all set," you say, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

Joel grins, his hand finding the small of your back as he guides you out the door. "Then let's get goin', darlin'," he says, his touch sending a thrill through you.

As you step out into the crisp morning air, hand in hand with the man you've come to care for so deeply, a sense of anticipation and uncertainty lingers between you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you ask suddenly as you settle into the car's passenger seat, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

To be honest, it's the last thing Joel is thinking about, and your question catches him off guard. But he can see and feel how it's affecting you, the worry and doubt etched in your expression.

"You could just sneak over to my house every night. Make sure you're back home in time for breakfast," Joel suggests, trying to lighten the mood, but he knows deep down it's not as simple as that.

"Do you think your dad might already kinda know?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern. "Deep down, I kinda mean, darlin'."

You shrug, a mix of emotions swirling within you as Joel drives. You feel annoyed at yourself for even bringing it up, but Joel is grateful that you did.

"Or we could just go. Take off," Joel says, thinking aloud. He feels you turn to look at him, his hand still rubbing comforting circles on your thigh.

"You mean... just leave?" you ask, the idea not entirely foreign to you.

"It's not something we have to think about right this minute, but do you really wanna stay here, in this house? In this town, tutoring kids for a few bucks an hour?" Joel questions, his voice tinged with a hint of restlessness.

He remembers one of the main things he doesn't miss about small towns – how everyone seems to know everyone else's business. And in the case of you and Joel, that would be none of their damned business.

"But you only just bought the place, and Sarah and Tommy just arrived, and I guess the only thing I'm really worried about is Dad. Screw tutoring," you say, your brow furrowed as you grapple with the weight of the decisions ahead.

"I only bought the place... only came back to town to be closer to you, remember?" Joel explains, his voice filled with sincerity. "Sarah's school transfer papers haven't been processed yet, and Tommy has to go back anyways. I didn't think in my wildest dreams that I'd have you all to myself on day one, darlin'."

"You're a pretty fast operator, that's for sure," you tease him, a hint of a smile playing on your lips, but the underlying tension remains unresolved between you.

The realization that you are well and truly Joel's, the depth of your connection with him, fills you with a sense of contentment and joy. It's a problem, but the best kind of problem to have, a testament to the love and bond you share.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel hasn't checked his messages yet, but he's confident that the call he made to boost your dad's business will yield positive results. It may not all happen today, but he's hopeful it will help your dad regain his confidence and pride in his work.

In the meantime, Joel is adamant that you shouldn't do anything you're not comfortable with. He inquires if you're the only tutor available at the college.

"Of course not," you sigh, a hint of resignation in your voice. "It'll just mean a couple of college kids keep their tutoring money from Mom or Dad, is all," you reflect, the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders.

From your perspective, the real challenge lies in explaining to everyone that you've been with Joel the whole time. The thought of facing your father's reaction weighs heavily on your mind, and Joel is keenly aware of the potential conflict that may arise.

He knows that your father's protective instincts will be triggered, and navigating that aspect of your relationship will require patience and understanding from both of you.

"Well, if we're gonna burn for it, we may as well burn together," Joel tells you, his voice filled with a mix of determination and tenderness.

"But there's no point makin' it harder on ourselves either," Joel adds, his tone thoughtful. "Let's just wait and see, huh?" he suggests, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring gaze.

The idea sinks in – it isn't the end of the world if you stop tutoring, and if nobody has caught on to the fact that you two are together, why stir up unnecessary trouble?

Relieved when you agree, you relax back into your seat, the weight of the situation lifting slightly. Joel parks the car on a street lined with small stores and cafes, the hustle and bustle of the town adding to the charm of the moment.

Despite the external distractions, it feels wrong to be near you and not show you how much you mean to him. The subtle touches and stolen glances have evolved into something deeper, a connection that demands to be acknowledged.

By the time you graduate from those fleeting moments to a full-blown kiss once you're back in the car after your meal, the intensity of your feelings for each other becomes undeniable.

Just as the moment seems to crystallize into something special, a female voice interrupts, shattering the private bubble you and Joel had created.

"Oh! Hi, Professor," you squeak, the sudden intrusion jolting you out of the intimate moment.

Joel, his expression darkening, turns to face the unexpected visitor, a protective instinct rising within him as he assesses the situation with a keen eye.

As the scene unfolds, Joel quickly grasps the situation at hand. A mildly annoyed college professor, Professor Hannah Bennett, catches her star tutor – you – in the arms of a man, instead of where you're expected to be.

The initial tension softens as Professor Bennett's gaze meets Joel's, her expression shifting from annoyance to curiosity. Joel, ever the gentleman, gulps slightly before extending his hand in introduction.

"Professor Hannah Bennett," she says, regaining her composure, though Joel feels her hand limp in his for a brief moment, a sign of her surprise.

Her eyes flicker from Joel to you, who has momentarily lost your voice in the unexpected encounter. The professor, quick to regain her professional demeanor, decides to leave you two to your own devices.

"Your dad mentioned you were helping his friend... uh, new neighbor," she stammers, a deep blush coloring her cheeks.

"Just maybe more notice next time if you're not up for tutoring for the day, that's all I ask," she adds, her tone taking on a more authoritative air as she reverts to her professorial role.

"I think I'll take a rain check on tutoring for a while, Professor Bennett," you declare in a clear, resolute voice, your hand slipping into Joel's for support.

Joel's pride and satisfaction are evident as he grins at your decision. The old professor huffs in disapproval, muttering something about the younger generation, before swiftly retreating from the scene.

"You quit?" Joel asks, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and admiration, leaning in to kiss you deeply before you can respond.

"I guess I did," you reply, a hint of amazement in your tone at the sudden turn of events.

"Was it hard?" Joel teases, and you shoot him a sidelong glance, a hint of amusement in your eyes.

"The professor's the soul of discretion," you assure him. "But if we're caught like that on our first time out together..."

Joel knows exactly what you mean. The potential fallout from such a public display is looming, and he can feel the weight of it pressing down on you both.

"C'mon," Joel urges, determined to enjoy the moment despite the impending challenges. "Show me around town. Take me grocery shopping," he suggests, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

"We can fill up both our pantries and maybe we can cook up a storm for dinner?" he asks, but he can see the worry etched on your face.

"Hey, your dad was alright with the idea, right? To come with me for the grocery run?" Joel reasons, hoping to ease your concerns.

Relieved when you finally yield, a smile spreading across your face as you relax. "You're right. He did," you agree.

"But easy with those kisses," you're quick to add, a hint of playfulness in your tone. "What if it was Dad that happened by just now?"

Joel bites his tongue, and to keep you happy, he agrees to the new terms and conditions. No aggressive public displays of affection – a small price to pay to maintain the delicate balance of your relationship.

Your little run-in with the professor has only affirmed Joel's feeling that small-town eyes and ears are always connected to big mouths. He knows they'll have to be cautious, at least for now.

"Say," Joel asks once you're back in the car, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Is there like a lingerie store or something in town too?"

You raise an eyebrow, unsure if he's teasing you or not. "I think there is, but I don't think that's where you wanna be seen hanging out, is it?" you ask, a playful challenge in your voice.

Joel chuckles, his gaze focused on the road ahead. "I'll keep it in mind for future reference," he explains, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As he navigates the quiet streets, Joel makes a mental note that you're going to need a ready supply of all things underwear. The memory of tearing yours off is still fresh enough in his mind to remind him that he wants to make it a regular occurrence.

As you and Joel make your way through the quiet streets of the town, you can't help but feel a growing sense of unease. It must be your imagination, you tell yourself, trying to push down the nagging feeling that something is off.

But as you step into the local grocery store, the truth becomes undeniable – everyone is staring at the two of you. You're nowhere near touching, and you definitely don't have a sign around your neck proclaiming your newfound intimacy, but the curious gazes and hushed whispers are impossible to ignore.

You keep forgetting that a man of Joel's stature and presence is bound to turn heads in a small town like this. But as quick as the locals are to stare and gawk, they're just as fast to look away, especially when they lock eyes with Joel's unwavering gaze.

"Grab whatever you need, whatever you want. For your place, too, darlin'," Joel says, his voice warm and reassuring, though you can see the strain in his expression, the desire to reach out and touch you palpable.

He focuses his attention on filling the biggest cart he can find, his movements efficient and purposeful. You can't help but wonder how you're going to explain a houseful of food to your father, but you're sure he's well aware of just how naturally generous Joel is by now.

After filling up not one, but two overflowing carts, you can't help but protest the sheer volume of groceries Joel has insisted on purchasing. But he's quick to reason with you, his voice low and conspiratorial.

"The less I have to go out to shop, the more time I have to work on my new house," he says, his words laced with a hidden meaning that's clear to you.

You nod in understanding, realizing that his reasoning is not just about efficiency, but also about maintaining the appearance of propriety in the eyes of the small-town community.

As you check out, the total on the receipt makes your eyes widen, but Joel simply shrugs it off, his focus on ensuring you and your home are well-stocked. You actually think it's a great idea – if you both stock up now, you won't have to venture out for anything later.

No tutoring, no errands to run, at least for the next week. The thought of having all that spare time with Joel has your heart racing with anticipation, and you're pretty sure he has a few ideas of his own.

But as Joel pulls into your street, your breath catches in your throat. There, parked out front, is your father's truck. You swallow hard, the weight of the situation suddenly pressing down on you.

"Your dad's home," Joel says, his voice strained, but there's no hint of worry in his tone. If anything, he sounds more like an animal guarding its prized possession than someone afraid of getting caught.

Taking a deep breath as Joel pulls into the driveway, you brace yourself for the moment of confrontation you've been dreading. But as you both start to unload the groceries, the anticipated showdown never materializes.

Far from it, your dad practically leaps out of the house, a huge smile spreading across his face as he welcomes you both. Joel's mood instantly shifts, a sense of relief and contentment washing over him – if your dad is happy, so is Joel.

And just like that, you're off the hook for now.

"You're home early, Dad," you observe, but he's way too pumped up about something else to ask you two where you've been. He's grinning like a maniac, and you can't help but wonder if he's finally cracked.

Catching Joel's knowing look, you realize that this must be good news somehow. Whatever it is, it's clearly put your father in an exceptionally cheerful mood.

"I dunno what you did, Joel, but it worked!" your dad almost shrieks, pumping the air with his fist before high-fiving Joel, who doesn't seem surprised at all.

"What did you do?" you ask them both, but it's as if you've disappeared or something. Your dad has gone into full Joel-best-buddy mode, slapping his back and whooping and hollering. It's not until you're all inside that you can finally get any sense out of him.

"I'm booked solid for the next three months!" your dad exclaims to Joel, who's trying his best to look excited for your father's good fortune.

"And that, uh, client of yours? The one who collects all those vintage cars? Guess who he wants to be maintaining them all?" your dad asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"That's great news. I'm glad I could..." Joel begins, but your dad is on a roll.

He's re-hiring the mechanics and workers he's laid off, and he's going to "expand the business." He's going to do better than ever from now on.

He's going to...

He's going to make you vomit if he keeps going on about it.

"Dad," you finally say, talking over him to get his attention.

"Yeah, sweetie, what is it?" he asks, holding his thought so he can keep telling Joel all about his fresh business plans.

"Nothing." You smile. "But are you gonna stick around, or do you still have that tractor to fix?" you ask, wondering if you and Joel will have any time alone now.

And you haven't even thought about what's going to happen when it's time to go to bed.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks, honey, but I've got Lucas going out to do it now. Boy! Is he glad to have his old job back!" your dad exclaims loudly, beaming up at Joel.

His admiration for Joel makes you feel like you're not the only one who thinks he's pretty amazing, which he is to a lot of people. But to you, he's the only one.

"You've done the hunting and gathering," your dad proclaims, his eyes sweeping over the abundance of meat and groceries you and Joel have just started to unload. Sarah and Tommy quickly make their way outside, greeting your father and offering to help with the remaining items that belong to them.

"So I'll start making us all a feast to celebrate," your dad announces, asking you if you can finish bringing in the groceries while he and Joel "catch up."

The subtle way he singles you out of the conversation is not lost on you. If this had been a day or two ago, before you had just lived through the best twenty-four hours of your life with Joel, you wouldn't have minded. But you hadn't counted on your dad being home early, nor did you expect him to hijack your man as soon as he saw him again.

You look to Joel for help, but he only shrugs, a strange expression crossing his face when your dad's back is turned that has you stifling a giggle. Instantly, you find yourself forgiving the entire group for being in this crazy situation.

You do as your dad asks, leaving out the items he calls for, the ones he'll need to amaze you all with his cooking skills. But once that task is complete, you're left awkwardly hanging out in the kitchen, feeling miles away from Joel. Maybe you should just go to your room.

No sooner do you glance towards the hallway leading to your bedroom, Joel's stern look stops you in your tracks. The message is clear – he wants you right where he can see you.

"I might just go change," you tell the room, knowing your dad is not paying attention, still talking a million miles a minute to Joel, who gives a little nod of approval.

You haven't seen your dad this excited, ever. Whatever Joel did has clearly done the trick to help your dad out, but are you really going to have to hear about it all night? It feels like you are.

By the time you change clothes, trying to look nice but not overly dressy for Joel, your dad stops long enough to notice you for a change.

"Sorry, honey. I've just been so pumped all day. And I've just gotta talk to the man who made it all happen," he explains, shooting Joel another glowing look.

"Don't let me do all the talking, though, and don't worry about skipping tutoring today. I already spoke to the professor," he adds, making your heart freeze in your chest.

"So? What have you two been up to all day?" he asks, snapping off a celery stalk from one of the brown paper sacks, crunching it loudly as he leans back against the counter.

Now, he's all ears, eager to know what it is that you and Joel have been up to.

He looks from you to Joel, and you can feel your mouth hanging open. You're waiting for Joel to save you both, which he does without effort.

"I had sweet darlin’ here help me run some errands, we did some grocery shopping, and then she showed me around town," he says, and none of it is a lie.

Your dad's brow creases with attention as he listens, already looking bored if he can't keep talking about his own good news. Joel does skip some parts, though, including the more intimate moments you shared – your father wouldn't be interested in those details.

But once Joel suggests you help him out like you did today more often, especially with all the plans Joel has for his new house, and hanging out with Sarah and helping her by tutoring her, it starts to sound more like a job offer than anything else.

"Well, it's up to you, hon," your dad says thoughtfully after a moment, not even a hint of suspicion in his voice anymore.

As your dad busies himself selecting ingredients for the meal he's going to prepare, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The prospect of spending more hours talking and eating with your family and Joel looms ahead, a bittersweet reminder of the newfound dynamics in your life.

Joel's pivotal role in saving your dad's business is evident, and it's clear that your father is more than willing to follow Joel's lead from now on. Despite the relief and gratitude you feel, there's an underlying longing for the quiet moments alone with the man who has quickly become the center of your world.

"I wasn't getting paid very much to tutor, Dad," you remind him, shooting a playful glance at Joel when your dad's attention is elsewhere. You can't help but ponder what your hourly rate might be if you were to accept his unofficial job offer, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes.

It takes some time to adjust to the new dynamic in the kitchen with Joel and your dad. You find yourself fighting the urge to seek out Joel's touch every few seconds, a silent reminder of the growing connection between you.

As you call Sarah and Tommy over for dinner, the atmosphere shifts to one of camaraderie and relaxation. It feels good to simply talk, eat, and goof around without the weight of other concerns pressing down on you.

Throughout the evening, you notice the subtle strain on Joel's face, a reminder of the complexities of the situation. Yet, your dad remains your dad, unwavering in his friendship with Joel, creating a unique bond between the three of you.

As the meal progresses and conversations flow, you find yourself washing up alongside Sarah, the men engrossed in their post-dinner discussions out on the porch. Sarah decides to head back to the house early, leaving you with a sense of peace and contentment in the quiet moments that follow.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks – you might have to spend the night away from Joel, not just tonight, but potentially every night until you both figure out what to do. It's not a happy thought, and you know Joel is thinking the same thing as the time for bed draws closer.

You've spent more hours today not touching and kissing than you two have actually been able to do so, and you just know Joel isn't happy about that either. So when your dad comes back inside without Joel or Tommy, you try not to sound panicked as you ask where they both are.

Your dad chuckles, "He went home, sweetie. He lives next door now, remember?" he asks, stifling a yawn and scratching his belly, letting you know he's about to turn in.

"I gotta huge day tomorrow, so I might not even see ya before or after work, but thanks for helping Joel out. He's really saved our bacon," your dad says, pecking your cheek before stretching out another yawn and heading to his room.

Not long after hearing his door close, there's a light rapping at the back door. You spring around and see Joel, his finger pressed firmly to his lips before he stalks over to you in two steps, kissing you with a desperation that takes your breath away.

"Wait 'til he's asleep again... Then come over," he murmurs, cocking his head and darting back out the door before your dad shuffles down the hall again, this time in his pajamas on the way to the bathroom.

Once your dad goes back to his room, you know he won't be coming out again. And if he does, he'll think you're asleep. So, tidying up the rest of the kitchen in record time, it isn't long before you hear your dad blowing bubbles in his sleep, and you're hot-footing it next door.

The need for Joel's touch is overwhelming, the hours spent apart feeling like an eternity. As you step into his home, the familiar scent of him envelops you, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement wash over you.

Without a moment's hesitation, you find yourself in his arms, your lips crashing against his in a desperate, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that matters is the connection you share, the hunger for each other's embrace.

Joel's deep, southern drawl sends a shiver down your spine as he leans in, his lips brushing against your neck. "You gotta be quiet for me, darlin'," he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. "Can you do that for me?"

You nod eagerly, your heart racing with anticipation. The need for his touch is overwhelming, the hours spent apart feeling like an eternity. As his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his muscular frame, you melt into his embrace.

Joel's calloused hands roam your body, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you. His lips crash against yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a primal hunger. You whimper softly, the sound muffled by his searing kiss.

"That's it, darlin'," Joel growls, his voice dripping with desire. "Let me hear how much you want me." His hands slide down to your hips, gripping them firmly as he grinds his hardness against you.

You gasp, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. "Joel," you breathe, your fingers tangling in his silver curls. "I need you, please..."

He chuckles, the deep rumble vibrating against your skin. "I know, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of you." Deftly, he lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you towards the bedroom.

The world around you fades away, consumed by the raw, primal need that pulses between you. Joel lays you down on the bed, his calloused hands caressing your curves as he hovers over you, his eyes dark with lust.

"You're so damn beautiful, darlin'," he murmurs, his lips trailing featherlight kisses along your jaw. "I've been waitin' all day to have you like this."

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. "Then take me, Joel," you whisper, your voice dripping with desire. "I'm yours."

With a growl, Joel captures your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming your body as he slowly, methodically undresses you. The air is thick with the scent of your arousal, and the sound of your ragged breathing fills the room.

As he buries himself deep within you, you cry out, the sensation of being so completely filled sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Joel stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice strained with restraint. "Let me hear how much you love it."

You whimper, your hips rolling against his. "Joel, please," you beg, your nails digging into the taut muscles of his back. "Don't stop."

With a groan, Joel begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, driving you higher and higher towards the precipice of ecstasy. Your bodies move in perfect harmony, the world around you fading away until all that exists is the two of you, lost in a haze of passion and desire.

The room is filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the heady scent of sex hanging in the air as Joel's movements become more urgent, more primal. Your bodies move as one, a symphony of desire and need as you reach the pinnacle of ecstasy together, the intensity of your release washing over you in a wave of pure bliss.

As you come down from the heights of pleasure, Joel holds you close, his heart pounding against yours as you both catch your breath. In the aftermath of your passion, you're left feeling sated, fulfilled, and more connected to Joel than ever before.

In this stolen moment, you know that no matter the challenges that lie ahead, as long as you have Joel by your side, you're equipped to confront almost anything. The future may be uncertain, but in his arms, you've never felt more at home.

[theetherealbloom]

i wanna be your lover | 70s!pornstar!joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female!reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings/rating: 18+ explicit. extended warnings will be given for each part.

main masterlist

ao3

playlist

part one: i wanna be your lover

part two: lover, lover, lover

part three: just crazy love

© shellshocklove

[theetherealbloom]

YOUR HONOR 🗣️🗣️🗣️ THIS IS SO GOOD🗣️🗣️🗣️

THE SURPRISE PICNIC; HIM SLIPPING A DAISY RING PLS LORD 😭🧎‍♀️

Joel Miller, I’d marry you a thousand times if you asked me to.

I’m so in love!!! 🥰

but now I’m your daisy

summary: It’s a random Thursday in the middle of spring, and Joel has a surprise for you—a surprise that’s an hour away from Jackson on horseback, that he insists on blindfolding you for.

pairing: Joel Miller/gn!reader (reader has smaller hands than Joel)

rating: T (No y/n, AGE GAP (unspecified, reader is an adult), Grumpy Joel Miller, a lil Possessive Joel Miller, FLUFF, it’s so fluffy, established relationship, kissing, purposely annoying Joel until he snaps at you, Joel being secretly romantic, MARRIAGE PROPOSAL (it’s so cute), cussing, did I mention fluff? Joel being so in love, Joel being the best dad to Ellie)

word count: 2.5k+

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or in the same universe as ‘but I would die for you in secret.’ An anon requested a ‘fluffy cute fic with an age gap (No smut)’ for Joel, and this extremely cute idea came to me that I wrote in one night. Shoutout to @littlemisspascal who loved the snippets I sent her, and thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

but I would die for you in secret - Masterlist

“Are we there yet?” you ask for the thirteenth time in the span of an hour.

It’s the perfect spring day with the temperature outside not too hot and not too cold, the air feeling a little crisp when it fills your nose. The sun’s warmth is hitting your back, and you’re sure that if you could see the sky, it’d be a beautiful, clear, cerulean blue—you can’t see, though, not with the bandana over your eyes as you sit astride a horse, Joel on his own next to you holding his reins and yours to lead you.

His sigh is long and loud, and you can picture perfectly without having to look at his annoyed expression.

“No,” he growls. “The same damn answer as the last dozen or so times you asked.”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me—you haven’t spent an hour literally in the dark with no idea where the hell you’re going.”

“And I’ve told you it’s a surprise,” he rumbles.

“Well, are we close to this surprise?”

He sighs again, and you just know he’s got the fingers of his free hand pressed to his brow. “I swear, you’re just as bad as Ellie—neither of you seems to understand what a fuckin’ surprise is.” He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Now,” he says calmly, “I don’t know why you’re purposely pushin’ my buttons—”

“You ate the last of the ice cream last night,” you interrupt. “The ice cream I worked hard to make that I was excited to eat as a late-night snack.”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me—how many times do I have to apologize? I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were savin’ it, and had I known, I wouldn’t have eaten it. Will you please forgive me?”

“Did I annoy you enough that the thought crossed your mind to take us back home?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t because you love me so much you’ll put up with my shit?”

“Yes.”

“Then I forgive you. Can I ask a question that has nothing to do with the distance we are from the surprise?”

He lets out a relieved breath, and his tone softens. “Of course, honey.”

Without fail, every time he calls you a sweet endearment, you melt a little, feeling so soft you might turn into a puddle.

You’re smiling. “What made you choose today to surprise me? It’s kinda random that it’s a Thursday, and you didn’t wait for the weekend when we’re usually off.” You taught at the school, and Joel did whatever he was assigned each day; lately, it’s been a lot of patrolling.

“Do you know what today’s date is?”

The question makes you think because you do know the date, and it’s not your, his, or Ellie’s birthday; it’s not a holiday that you’re aware of, either, and frankly, you’re not quite sure what the significance is.

“I do, but what’s so special about it?”

“What were you doin’ last year around this time?”

“Um, what was I doing? Wait, it’s around when I moved to Jackson.”

“That’s right, and who’d you meet a little after you arrived?”

“A lot of people.”

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes in exasperation. “Baby, when did you meet me?”

“Like two, three days after I moved into the house across the street from you.”

“And what happened when we met?”

The memory makes you smirk. “I seduced you—my sexy, way older, single dad neighbor.”

“That’s true—I was gone on you from the moment you batted those pretty eyes at me, and who were you romantically involved with from that day forward?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You.”

“Was there anyone else?” It’s a harmless question he knows the answer to and is honestly humorous even to be asked.

You snort. “Why would I have wanted to be with anyone else when I had you? No, of course not, and you were very clear that I was yours and only yours, even if nobody else knew for quite some time.”

Your relationship with him was a secret for many months because he didn’t want Ellie to know—he was worried she wouldn’t take it well, but she ended up being completely fine with it and had figured out the two of you were a thing, pretty much from the beginning.

“So, it’s a year from the day you became mine,” he says, “why would I be takin’ you somewhere special?”

The realization slams into so hard you gasp.

“Are we celebrating the anniversary of when we first met?!”

It’s clear in his voice he’s smiling. “We are—I know we did things ass-backward, and I wish I could’ve courted you properly from the beginnin’, but I consider that first time we met as the start of our unconventional relationship.”

Warmth is spreading through your body at how sweet this is.

“Oh my god, Joel—if I could, I’d kiss you right now!”

“Well, you’re in luck, my love, ‘cause we’re finally here.” Your horse comes to a stop, the animal snorting as its front hooves shuffle in place. “You can look.”

You lower the bandana, and your eyes widen at what’s in front of you: it’s a meadow of colorful wildflowers—the lush green grass overshadowed by the yellows, pinks, purples, whites, and blues blooming thickly everywhere, tall pine trees lining the edges, and snow-capped mountains towering high off in the distance.

You’ve never seen anything so beautiful, and it takes your breath away.

There’s movement out of the corner of your eye of Joel getting off his horse, and you’re too focused on taking in all of the scenery, seeing butterflies fluttering around and birds gliding through the air.

“Well?” he asks, and you jolt at his voice coming from the opposite side of where he was initially. “Sorry for spookin’ ya, baby.” He rubs a hand along your jean-covered thigh, and your head tilts down his way. Joel’s eyes look hopeful, and a small smile is on his lips—he’s wearing a red flannel and has a rifle on his back, the light breeze causing some of his gray strands of hair to dance atop his head. “What do you think?” he asks.

Your answer is to get off the horse, Joel’s hands immediately grabbing onto your waist to steady you as you swing your leg over the back of the animal, one foot landing on the ground, then the other—you spin around, throwing your arms around his neck, and crush your lips to his, swallowing his surprised sound. He’s automatically hugging you to him, and you never feel safer than when he holds you, knowing without a doubt he won’t let anything happen to you and will protect you with everything he has; you’d do the same for him and Ellie, the two most important people in your life.

When you break apart, your breaths come out a little heavier, and with the way he’s gazing into your eyes, you can clearly see his love for you shining through.

His hand caresses your cheek. “A good surprise?” he asks.

Your mouth is grinning as you nod. “The best surprise and worth an hour in the dark.” You hold his face as you lean in, placing loud, smacking kisses over his stubbled cheeks, along his jaw, on his chin, and lips. Joel chuckles at your enthusiasm, and you end with a peck to the tip of his nose.

“There’s more,” he says.

Your eyes go big. “What do you mean there’s more?”

“Let me tie up the horses, and I’ll show you.”

He moves away to do as he said, using ropes to tie around each of their two front legs to hobble them and keep them in place, allowing them to graze.

Joel isn’t kidding about there being more: he removes a blanket roll from his saddle that he spreads out on a patch of grass, and from his backpack, he takes out containers with strawberries, apples, cheese, some smoked meat and to drink, a bottle of apple juice made in Jackson.

He sits on the blanket, his long legs out in front of him, the food on one side of him, his rifle, and your shotgun that’d been holstered in a scabbard attached to your saddle within reach on the ground. He makes you giggle as he pulls you down into his lap, sitting sideways across it, his arms wrapping around your middle, while your hands go into the hair at the back of his head, his eyes locked on yours.

Something hard is poking you in the ass. “Is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” you ask with a wag of your eyebrows.

Joel huffs out an amused breath as he gets his hand under you and pulls his sheathed hunting knife off of his belt, tossing it next to the rifle and shotgun.

“Better?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek. “Much better—thank you.” You stare at his handsome face and brush his messy bangs off his forehead—Joel grabs your hand, keeping his gaze on yours as he kisses the skin on the inside of your wrist, leaving behind tingles where his lips touch.

“If Ellie knew how secretly romantic you are,” you say, “she’d give you even more shit than she already does.”

His eyes roll, and he holds your smaller hand in his bigger one, pressing it to his heart.

“Wanna know a secret?” he asks.

“Always.”

“She avoids teasin’ me about our relationship and how I am with you—I mean, if she sees us kiss, she’ll pretend to get sick, but that’s just how teenagers are.” He shrugs. “She slips up every once in a while, and that’s expected; I think her tryin’ her best not to shit on my happiness is her sweet way of bein’ supportive.” He’s smiling fondly. “She’s the one who suggested a picnic.”

Your face matches his. “You discussed your secret anniversary plans with her?”

“Yes.” He nods. “'cause Tommy’s idea of celebratin’ was stayin’ in bed all day naked, and it made me wonder for the millionth time why the fuck Maria married his ass.”

You laugh. “And that’s pretty much a regular Saturday for us when Ellie stays at Cat’s—” Her girlfriend’s. “—for the weekend.”

He’s got an arm around your back and lets go of your hand, reaching to pluck a dandelion from the grass at the edge of the blanket.

“Exactly,” he says, “needed to do somethin’ special, and I found this place a few weeks ago while on patrol and knew you’d love it.” His eyes squint a little as his attention turns to what’s in front of him.

“I do, I love it so much.” You look around at the flowers, trees, and mountains. “It’s so beautiful!”

“Yeah, it is.” You face him again, finding his gaze already on you.

He does this often, where when you seek him out—be it at the crowded bar on a Friday night, the busy mess hall at breakfast before work, while you’re cuddled on the couch watching a movie—he’s already looking at you before your eyes land on his. It’s like you’re the only thing that exists, and you find it both lovely and insane that he loves you that much.

The other person who steals his attention is Ellie—she’s his whole world, and that’s how it should be; she’s his kid, and if Joel’s one thing, he’s a fantastic father who loves his children more than anything.

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else, Joel Miller,” you tell him, clutching his shirt with your left hand. “I love you, I love your daughter, I love the life we have, and I’m sorry, but you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life—you’re mine, and I’ll fight anyone or anything that tries to take you from me.”

“Yeah?” He takes your hand from his shirt and presses your palms together between you, making your own look so tiny with how much longer and thicker his fingers are. “Well,” he starts, your eyes closing when he leans in to nudge his nose against yours, “you’ve sure ruined me for anyone else, too, and you’re it for me—I love you, I love that you really do care about my kid, and how you make our lives better,” he rasps softly. “No one else can have you ‘cause you belong to me as I belong to you, so I see this only goin’ one way.”

“And where’s that?” you whisper.

His hand leaves yours for a moment.

“With you marryin’ me,” he says and slips something onto your ring finger—your eyes fly open seeing he’s tied the dandelion stem to make a loop your finger can fit through, the vibrant yellow flower a pretty substitute for a real diamond ring that are hard to find these days; this is Joel doing something how it was done when he was younger because, to him, it’s the right way, even though nowadays engagements are simply a verbal agreement rarely accompanied by jewelry. Or this is Joel just being romantically old-fashioned; you love it when he’s romantically old-fashioned.

Your cheeks are hurting from smiling so big, and tears are brimming in your eyes.

“If you’ll have me, of course,” he adds, and you look at him. “I know I’ve been alive a long fuckin’ time and that you can do better than someone as old as me, but I promise I’ll give you my everythin’ and the best life I can because you’re the one I wanna spend whatever time I have left breathin’ with.” The truth is evident in his chocolate-colored gaze, seeing the glimmer of hope in the dark pools. “As long as it’s somethin’ you’d want. It’s fine if you prefer we keep doin’ things as we have been without you takin’ my last name—I’m lucky enough that you like me.”

“Ask me,” you say.

His eyebrows pull together. “Ask you what…?”

“To marry you—in all the sweet things you said, you didn’t ask the question.”

His cheeks pink up, and he scratches the back of his neck. “That’s fuckin’ embarrassin’. Not much of a proposal if you don’t ask the question—sorry—let me try this again.” He clears his throat and takes your hand, being careful of the dandelion ring, his eyes seeming to get bigger. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, and he rewards you with a smile big enough for his very seldom-seen dimple to make an appearance.

Then his large palms are cradling your face, and he’s kissing you like he’s just come home after being away for a while, and can’t believe he’s finally feeling your lips against his once more—he’s savoring every second and being so thorough it makes you go dizzy, your skin heating beneath your clothes.

This is one of those unforgettable kisses that will make you swoon each time it comes to mind in the years to come.

And this man asked you to marry him.

Settling down in Jackson was the best decision you’ve ever made.

but I would die for you in secret - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM - CH.2

Chapter 2: ​​Just Screeching Tires And True Love

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking Around, FLUFF, LOTS OF SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Oral Fem Receiving, Kissing, Barely any plot, NOT A SLOW BURN AT ALL, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content, Size Kink, Reader is “smaller” than Joel but no further descriptions, Breeding Kink, PWP (wrap it up), Body worship, declaring their love for each other, 

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Oh, wow. I didn’t expect all the love you all gave in the previous chapter. That was my first time writing real, raw, dirty smut. Like IM STILL SO NERVOUS AND SHY to post smut AHSKJFHAHAHA. The introvert in me is like… having a huge anxiety attack rn PLS– 

So, um, chat, I’m actually dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Joel's skilled hands and tongue explore every inch of your body, knowing that a series of powerful orgasms is the key to preparing you for him.

His fingers and tongue trace a path of pleasure over your skin, and you can't help but respond to his touch. Despite your reservations, you find yourself quickly reaching a boiling point, your body trembling with need.

Joel's touch is like a dream come true, his hands and mouth staking his claim on what's his. He takes his time undressing you, savoring every moment of this intimate moment.

As you lay back, your legs wrapped around his shoulders, Joel's tongue delves deep inside you, exploring every inch of your slick folds. His mouth moves over your clit with the same skill and passion as his lips on yours.

You try to whisper his name, to tell him something, anything, but every time he shifts his mouth to ask if you're okay, you can only shiver and gasp, your body trembling with pleasure.

Joel's touch is like a drug, and you find yourself quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of his hands and mouth on your body. You lose yourself in the moment, surrendering to the pleasure that only Joel can bring you.

Joel can't help but feel the overwhelming urge to bury himself deep inside you, to feel your slick heat surrounding him.

His balls are heavy and tight, his cock twitching against his jeans as he fights the urge to climax.

But despite his own desire, Joel remains focused on your pleasure, his tongue exploring every inch of your body as you shudder and moan beneath him.

You are a vision of beauty, your skin flushed and glowing with the aftermath of your climax.

Joel's own need is intense, but he holds back, wanting to make sure you're fully satisfied before he takes his own pleasure.

"I need you, darlin'," he groans, his body pressed against yours as he fumbles with his zipper.

But when you speak up, he stops, his body tensing with anticipation.

"What is it?" he pants, his heart racing as he tries to hold back his own climax.

You look worried, and Joel can't help but feel a pang of concern.

"This is what you want?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You nod, but there's still a hint of worry in your eyes.

"Buttercup, what is it?" he presses, his concern growing.

But when you tell him, his heart swells with emotion.

"I've never been with anyone before, Joel," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel feels a surge of protectiveness and love, knowing that he's the first person to ever touch you in this way.

Joel's heart swells with emotion as you confess your virginity. He pulls you close, kissing your forehead as he whispers reassurances.

"No, I don't mind, darlin'," Joel reassures you, his voice filled with tenderness and desire. "It means you'll be mine, and I'll be your first."

You still look uncertain, but the hunger in your eyes tells Joel everything he needs to know.

His cock strains against his jeans, eager to be freed, aching to be inside you. Joel smiles, a mix of pride and desire filling him as he sees your attraction to him.

"We can go as fast or slow as you want, darlin'," he whispers, his hands finding your hips as he settles back between your legs.

But you have other plans. Your arms pull him close, your voice a breathless plea, "Yes, yes please, now."

Joel's heart races as he finds his zipper and frees his cock, the tip swollen and eager, ready for you.

"You sure?" he asks, his hands trembling with anticipation as you nod, your desire written all over your face.

With a swift movement, Joel sheds his flannel, revealing his soft yet toned body, his full erection standing proud and ready for you.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you murmur, your eyes widening at the sight of him, the intensity of the moment hitting you.

As you both revel in the anticipation of what's to come, a distant rumble breaks the moment - a truck, your father's truck, parked outside.

Panic sets in as you realize the situation, the urgency of the moment propelling you both into a frenzy of dressing, the need for secrecy driving you to move quickly.

In a rush of movement, you both scramble to get dressed, the interruption leaving you both breathless and on edge, the promise of what was about to happen hanging in the air.

You hear the heavy steps of your father approaching the porch, the sound echoing through the house before the bell rings. Joel watches you quickly compose yourself, smoothing down your hair and adjusting your clothes, trying to appear composed despite the heated moment you both shared.

You move to Joel's kitchen, pretending to search through his pantry, your heart racing with the intensity of the situation.

Joel doesn't rush to answer the door, but your father is already there, a bag in hand, when he does.

"Joel, you okay, buddy?" Your father's voice fills the room, and Joel responds with a casual tone, "Yeah, yeah. Your daughter is in the kitchen helping me unpack some stuff. Come on in."

The air is thick with tension as your father enters, unaware of the charged atmosphere between you and Joel. You exchange a quick glance, a silent understanding passing between you as you both navigate hiding your shared secret.

"Hey, Dad, how was work?" You ask, trying to keep your tone casual and light.

Your father hands Joel one of his bags, his eyes flicking between the two of you, a hint of suspicion in his gaze.

"Anything interesting happen today?" You ask, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

Your father shrugs, his eyes still on you and Joel. "Just the usual," he says, his tone nonchalant, but his gaze lingering on the two of you.

"Well, I came over to check in… and tell you two that we should start prepping dinner soon," he says, breaking the tension. "Sweetie, why don't you help set up the table while I take over and help Joel finish up over here?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Dad," you say and your father smiles and you give one more glance over at him and Joel before leaving.

As you close the front door of Joel’s home and step off the porch, you take a deep breath and sigh, your heart racing with the fear of being caught.

You quietly position yourself near the edge of the house, just out of sight, listening in on the conversation between Joel and your father.

You feel your body flooded with anxiety, knowing that you need to make sure your father doesn't discover your secret with Joel.

You don't want him to find out or jump to conclusions before you and Joel have had a chance to define your relationship.

As you listen, you can hear the regret in your father's voice, and although Joel's tone is clear, your father's is softer, more subdued.

You can feel the weight of unspoken tension in the air, a heaviness that hangs between your father and Joel.

"It's fine, man, it really is," Joel reassures your dad, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the unease that lingers.

Your father's repeated apologies have left you puzzled, his behavior out of character and leaving you wondering what's truly bothering him.

"So, what's eatin’ you?" Joel's voice cuts through the silence, his tone firm yet compassionate. "It's like you have a bug up my ass since I got here. C'mon, out with it," he urges, his directness surprising you.

As you listen in on the conversation, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. You're concerned for your dad, who seems to be struggling with feelings of jealousy and insecurity.

"I dunno, Joel. It's just seeing you this time around, hearing how well you've done. And with my own business not doing as well… Fuck, man. Can ya blame a guy for wondering where he went wrong?" your father admits.

Joel responds with kindness and understanding, offering to help your father financially if he needs it.

"I told you, name the amount or just say the word. I'll cut you a check right now," Joel says, his voice steady and reassuring.

You get the sense that they had a lengthy conversation at the home office earlier, and Joel had seen firsthand the state of your father's business.

Despite your own worries, you can't help but feel a sense of pride in Joel's unwavering support for your father, even in the face of his own success.

"I don't want your charity, Joel," your dad says, his voice heavy with frustration. "I want...I guess I want the past twenty years back so I could do it differently. Do it better for my daughter. You know?"

Your heart aches for your dad, for all that he's done for you, putting family first even when it's just the two of you. It's what gets him out of bed every morning.

"I understand," Joel replies, his voice soothing. "But you've done your best, and now it's time for me to do mine. Movin’ back here isn't just about hangin’ out. I'm here to support you, whether you like it or not. So quit being stubborn and let me help."

Your dad goes quiet, and you realize that you've been eavesdropping for too long. You start to move away, not wanting to intrude on their conversation, but you hear your dad say something that stops you in your tracks.

"Joel, all those years ago. After her mom left and I had nothin'. We had nothin'. Remember who set me up in that little auto shop?"

Your interest is piqued. Anything to do with the past is interesting to you because your dad absolutely refuses to ever talk about it.

"It was you, Joel, all of it, and you know it. Hell, even Tommy helped us. If it wasn't for you and him, all the hard work you put in, paying off that damned loan, my daughter and I wouldn't be where we are today. And there's no way she would've gone to college."

Your dad's voice breaks off, full of emotion. And you hear Joel shifting his weight across the room.

"C'mon, we've been through this a million times. That damn loan was to get both of us started, remember? And we always said whoever paid it back first would never owe the other a fuckin’ penny. Remember?"

As you listen to your dad and Joel's conversation, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. You're happy to learn about the support and friendship that exists between them, but you're also surprised that you're only hearing about it now.

"I remember," your dad groans, and you realize that it's time for you to leave them to have a private conversation.

As you make your way home, you can't help but wonder about Joel's past and the ways in which he's helped your family over the years. You're grateful for his generosity, but you're also a little shocked that you're only hearing about it now.

A night of many firsts for you, it seems. But your first time with Joel is obviously going to have to wait.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You know that Joel wants to tell your dad about your relationship, and you can see why. They used to share everything, including start-up money.

You guess that Joel wants what you want too - to have your dad as a part of the family for all of you.

But the shock of it all might cost more than you think, especially if your dad is as stubborn about you being with Joel as he is with everything else.

For now, you can only wait and see how things unfold, hoping what you have with Joel will be strong enough to weather any storm that comes your way.

"So, sweetie, did you have fun over at Joel’s?" Your dad asks, his innocent question sending a jolt of panic through you.

You choke on your food, feeling Joel's eyes on you from across the table. You quickly take a sip of water, trying to compose yourself. "Sorry... just... I... that went down the wrong pipe. Um, yeah, it was fun, a bit tiring though, kinda like a whole workout," you manage to say, your voice slightly shaky.

Unbeknownst to your dad, Joel shoots you a knowing wink, his smirk sending a thrill through you. You focus on your plate, trying to avoid any more embarrassing slip-ups.

As you try to eat, your mind races with thoughts of Joel. The simple act of 'being neighbors' suddenly feels like an impossible task. You can't shake the desire you feel for him, the hunger for his touch burning hot within you.

There's an obvious tension around the table, an aura of unspoken desire. You know there's no way you can make it through dinner without giving in to the overwhelming attraction you feel for Joel. It would take a miracle to resist the pull between you.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on your side as Joel's phone suddenly rang, interrupting the tension at the table.

"Sorry... gotta take this. It's Sarah," Joel said, his voice sheepish as he excused himself from the table.

You couldn't help but perk up at the mention of Sarah's name, smiling as you said, "Tell her hi for me please."

Joel easily slid his chair out and moved into the living room to answer his phone, his low voice a comforting presence as he greeted Sarah.

Your dad's suspicious gaze lingered on you for a moment, but you stayed quiet, focusing on your food. The anxiety bubbling up inside of you was making you dizzy, but you tried your best to push it aside and enjoy the meal.

As Joel talked on the phone, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. The interruption had given you a moment to collect yourself and regain your composure.

But even as you ate, your mind was still consumed with thoughts of Joel. The desire you felt for him was overwhelming, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you gave in to the temptation.

Joel returns to the dining area, still on the phone, and hands it to you with a dramatic grumble. "Sarah wants to talk to you."

Your eyebrows shoot up in happy surprise, and you take the phone, excitedly greeting Sarah. "Hi Sarah! Miss you loads, I'm so excited you're moving back here."

Sarah squeals with delight, "You'll be there to pick me up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right? With my dad?"

"Mhm! I'll be there, Joel is borrowing my car in the meantime." You assure her, smiling as you hear her excitement. "See you then!"

You say your goodbyes and hand the phone back to Joel, who resumes his call and says goodbye to Sarah.

As you head back into the dining area, you notice your dad has been busy on his phone, looking through his emails.

The tension from earlier has dissipated, replaced with a sense of excitement for Sarah's return.

But even as you chat with your dad, your mind is still consumed with thoughts of Joel. The desire you feel for him is overwhelming, and you can't help but steal glances at him throughout the meal.

As dinner winds down, Joel stands up, exchanging a hug and a pat on the back with your dad before turning to you. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a tight squeeze.

The electricity between you is palpable, the air thick with anticipation. You can't help but feel a rush of excitement as you look into Joel's eyes, knowing that the night is far from over.

With a lingering touch and a whispered promise, Joel leaves you with a sense of longing and desire, eager to see what the rest of the evening holds for the two of you.

Your dad checks in on you before he retires to his room, a habit from when you were a child. But tonight, your mind is elsewhere, consumed with thoughts of Joel.

As you lie in bed, your heart races, and your body aches for his touch. You know that sleep is impossible until you're in his arms.

After what feels like hours of tossing and turning, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Quietly, you slip out of bed, grabbing your phone, putting on your shoes and a sweater over your sleep shirt and shorts.

You listen at your dad's door, hearing the deep rhythm of his snoring, signaling that he's fast asleep.

With a sense of determination, you make your way to the back of the house and slip out the door, making your way up to Joel's porch.

If you were unsure about rushing into things a few hours ago, a sleepless night and the lingering ache between your legs are enough to convince you that you don't just want it - you need it.

The anticipation builds with every step, your heart pounding in your chest as you approach his door. You take a deep breath, ready to see where the night will take you.

Before you have the chance to knock, the door swings open, revealing Joel in nothing but grey sweatpants, his broad shoulders, soft belly and toned chest on full display.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in the sight of him, your body responding instantly to his presence.

"Well, hello there, darlin’" Joel says, his voice low and seductive. "Was wonderin’ when you'd show up.”

Without a word, you step forward, closing the distance between you and Joel. Your hands reach up to touch his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

"I need you," you whisper, your voice filled with desire.

Joel's eyes darken with lust, and he pulls you closer, his lips crashing down on yours in a passionate kiss. The sound of the front door slamming shut and him locking it echoes through the room as he doesn't remove his mouth from yours.

As you lose yourself in the moment, you know that tonight is the beginning of something new and exciting - a chance to escape the mundane and embrace the passion that burns between you and Joel.

Even though you're still a little tender from your earlier encounter, you're confident that you can handle him. You think. Maybe not all of him, but at least half of what you saw earlier.

The anticipation builds as Joel's hands explore your body, his touch setting your skin on fire. You whimper, your voice cracking and your body even buckling as he pulls you closer to him.

Your whole body is exploding with arousal, flushing through you all the way to where you need him most.

Your hands claw at his chest, and feeling his heart pounding hard against it, followed by the unmistakable feeling of his stiff erection probing you, you know you’re on the same page.

"I wanted it to be special," Joel says, almost sounding disappointed.

"It will be special," you counter, daringly running the flat of your palm up the front of his jeans, making him groan in a low tone.

"I meant somewhere special… not here," he reasons.

"I don't care where we do it, Joel. Bent over your couch, against the wall, on the kitchen counter - I just need you inside me," you gasp, your breath hitching with desire.

His strong arms effortlessly lift you off your feet in one swift motion, his muscles flexing as he carries you towards the bedroom.

"Then it's the bedroom," he growls, his voice low and commanding, as he strides purposefully up the stairs, his gaze locked on yours.

In this moment, you couldn't care less if anyone caught a glimpse of the two of you. All that matters is the raw desire pulsing between you and Joel.

The world fades away as you enter the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation and need. You know that this is where you belong, in Joel's arms, giving yourself completely to him.

If not for the interruption earlier, this morning would have been the moment you surrendered to him. But now, there are no more barriers, no more distractions.

It's just you and Joel Miller, enveloped in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

Joel might have envisioned a five-star hotel suite or a secluded cottage by the lake as more romantic settings. But you're right. Anywhere that's just the two of you alone will be special.

Your first time, or both of your first times, is something to be cherished. But what truly matters is the connection between you and Joel, not the location.

Seeing you standing there in nothing but the shortest sleep shorts and a sweater, Joel can't wait a moment longer. The urgency to be with you, to share this intimate moment, is overwhelming. He discards both of your clothing somewhere between the frenzy of kisses and tongue. The hours it would take to create the perfect setting elsewhere pale in comparison to the raw desire pulsing between you both.

In the bedroom that Joel wishes to be both of yours, he can't help but get a shiver. This is it, the moment you've both been waiting for. Joel, with the woman of his dreams. You, with a man who has more to offer than just his own needs.

It has to be right now. Joel needs to lay you down and fill your sweet cunt with his seed. There's an urgency between you both, like you've both got an appointment with destiny that neither of you can miss.

"We won't be interrupted this time," you whisper knowingly, and if last night's anything to go by, you both know you want more than just an hour of each other.

Joel's hands tremble as he holds himself over you, your heaving breaths swirling in the even hotter places between your bodies. Your mouths lock in deep, penetrating kisses, Joel's chest butted up against yours, both your hearts pounding out a beat that somehow he knows is gonna make another kid. This time with you. And God help him, he's gonna do right by you.

"I've waited for this… dreamed of you for so long," Joel rasps, feeling you sliding his swallowed tip over the entrance to your slick valley. Your quivering, tight cunt is pressing and rubbing against his cock, making both of your eyes open wider. Joel feels you tense up just a little, but he makes sure it's you who guides his hardness for now.

"I've waited too. I still can't believe this is actually happening," you purr, your thighs and wide hips perfectly matching Joel's own size. And he knows you're gonna need all the padding you can get once he starts fucking you like he senses you want it.

Joel's lips crash onto yours once more, your tongues dancing together as your bodies become one. You can feel him entering you, filling you up in a way that takes your breath away.

"It's so big," you gasp, your voice trembling with pleasure.

"Go as slow or as fast as you want, darlin'," Joel murmurs, his voice strained with desire. He watches your face, your expressions of pleasure and discomfort as he slowly enters you.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you moan, your voice deep and loud. Joel can't help but join in, his own moans mingling with yours as he slides deeper into you.

Inch by inch, he fills you up, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that feels both new and familiar. You can feel every inch of him, the sensation both overwhelming and exhilarating.

There's a moment of discomfort, a jolt that makes you wince, but it passes quickly, replaced by a feeling of fullness that takes your breath away.

You can feel the heat building between you and Joel, the intensity of your connection growing stronger with each passing moment. Your bodies move together in a rhythm that feels both primal and instinctual, a dance as old as time itself.

"You feel so fuckin' good, sweetheart," Joel groans, his voice low and husky with desire.

You can only respond by gripping his cock from the inside, shifting your hips higher as your mouth forms an 'O' shape. Your eyes are pinched shut for a moment, lost in the overwhelming sensation of Joel filling you up completely.

But when you open them again, you're met with Joel's gaze, his eyes dark with desire and need. You can see the tension in his muscles, the way his biceps bulge as he grips your hips.

You both want this, crave this connection that goes beyond words. You want to share your first climax together, to create something beautiful and new between you.

And if you're lucky, maybe he’ll even put a baby in your belly.

You grip hold of Joel's forearms, your smaller hands doing their best to clutch them as he watches your breasts start to bounce with each long and firm stroke in and out of your tight wet pussy.

You're lost in the moment, your body moving in perfect harmony with Joel's as he thrusts into you again and again. You can feel every inch of him, filling you up in a way that makes you feel complete.

"Give it to me, Joel," you cry out, your voice hoarse with desire. You hook your ankles around his back, urging him to fuck you as hard and fast as he likes.

Joel doesn't hold back, his hips pistoning as he drives himself deeper into you. You can feel every thrust, the sensation bordering on painful but in the best way possible.

Your G-spot is a prime target at this angle, and once you get a taste of how good it feels, you're hooked. You like it hard, deep, and fast just as much as you like it soft and slow.

The bed underneath you both creaks and groans with the force of your frantic pumping and rocking. Any concerns you both might have had about making noise are long gone. It's a wild, primal sound, and Joel's grunts and growls are matched by yours with every movement of your entangled bodies.

His grip shifts from your hips to that ass of yours, kneading your soft cheeks with his fingers as he pulls you harder towards him. The slick warmth of your essence mixes with his own precome, the combination creating a friction that's both intense and overwhelming.

Joel is proud of how much you can take of him. His balls are rising with his pending climax, the tightness and warmth of your sweet pussy working its magic.

You both know this isn't a race or a test of endurance. Joel knows your prized pussy is his, and your body is his. But it's your climax that he's craving.

To see your face as he fills you with his seed.

And the new life he has ready to put inside you is as eager to make that dream come true for either of you.

Your body stiffens suddenly, and then trembles all over. You arch the small of your back, grunting words that have Joel swelling so much inside of you that he knows that you're both close.

Your eyes roll back, and you force quick breaths through your mouth. Joel's jaw is clenched and tight.

The growl from him is growing by the second as he feels his release rising.

"C'mon, baby, fuck, I'm gonna come… gonna come… tell me where darlin, fuck," Joel practically shouts, and you whimper, "Inside… inside me, Joel, fuck a baby into me."

Your gasping screams as you try to call his name fill his ears, rushing with the torrent of his pulse when he feels his own climax start to escape him.

The shudder of your hips against his and Joel's hands holding you so tight against him makes it feel like you're finally one.

Joel has never come so hard in his life, and he's never felt what he feels for you with anyone or anything. And unlike your climax when he used his mouth, this is a proper full-body orgasm for you. And for him too.

Your bodies are slick with sweat, your skin hot and flushed with desire. You're both breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in unison.

Joel collapses onto you, his body spent and sated, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The room is filled with the sound of your combined heartbeats, a symphony of desire and satisfaction.

As you lie there, entwined with Joel, you can feel the powerful energy coursing through both of your bodies, a potent connection that leaves you both breathless and wanting more.

The waves of your shared climax begin to ebb, but the intensity of the moment lingers in the air, wrapping you both in a cocoon of pleasure and intimacy.

"Holy shit," you gasp, still shuddering from the force of your release. You can feel Joel's member continuing to flex and pulse inside you, a reminder of the raw passion that brought you both to this moment.

It's more than just an orgasm. It's a transcendent experience, a merging of souls that leaves you both feeling bound together in a way that words can't quite capture.

As you catch your breath, you look into Joel's eyes, seeing a depth of emotion and connection that takes your breath away. In this moment, you know that you've found something special, something rare and beautiful that goes beyond mere physical pleasure.

Joel's smile is warm and genuine as he looks down at you, his body still intimately connected to yours. "Darlin’, you're mine now, if you'll have me," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

You can feel the aftershocks of your climax still pulsing through your body, the sensation of Joel's stiffness still flexing inside of you a constant reminder of the pleasure you've just shared.

Joel eases himself onto his side, sensing how much you want him to stay inside you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you both lay spent, your bodies still entwined in a tangle of limbs.

Your panting breaths mingle in the air, your smiles of near disbelief that anything so incredible could even be possible.

"Of course, Joel, I...," you begin to giggle, gasping in a quick breath as you feel his stiffness still flexing inside of you.

Joel props himself up on one elbow, caressing your cheek as he finally slides out of you. "I don't know how I know, but I just know. Do you feel it too, darlin’?" he asks, his voice filled with a sense of wonder.

You can feel your whole body relaxing, the tension and excitement of your climax slowly ebbing away. "Oh, I think I'm gonna feel it for a few days," you joke, your eyes widening in amazement.

Joel's smile is warm and genuine as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with love and adoration. "I love you," he blurts out, his voice filled with emotion. "I've never been good at this, with words… but fuck it, I love you, darlin'."

You make a small sound, a soft gasp that turns into a frown as your eyes mist up. You clutch your arms around his neck, as if your life depended on it, pulling him closer to you.

"I love you too," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion. "I love you so much, Joel."

In this moment, as you lay there in each other's arms, you know that you've found something special, something rare and beautiful that goes beyond mere physical pleasure. You've found a love that is raw, real, and passionate, a love that will last a lifetime.

Joel's fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I want to make love to you again and again, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

You smile up at him, your eyes shining with love. "I want that too, Joel," you whisper. "I want to feel you inside me, filling me up with your love."

Joel's lips crash down on yours, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that takes your breath away. You respond eagerly, your bodies moving together in a dance as old as time itself.

As Joel enters you again, you can feel the connection between you deepening, growing stronger with each thrust. This is more than just sex, more than just physical pleasure. This is love, pure and simple, a love that will last a lifetime.

"I love you, darlin'," Joel murmurs, his voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with the same love and adoration.

And as you lose yourself in the moment, you know that this is where you belong, in Joel's arms, surrounded by his love and affection. This is where you'll stay, for the rest of your life.

Having a man like Joel Miller relieve you of your virginity is one thing, but having him tell you that he loves you is something else entirely. It completes you, fills in the missing pieces of your soul that you didn't even know were there.

It changes you, transforms you into a better version of yourself. And it changes everything between you both for the better.

There are no more questions, no more wondering what if, no more chasing. Just the two of you, and you both feel it as strong as the climax he just gave you.

As the world slowly comes back into focus, you become silently aware of just how quiet everything is. The old house, the neighborhood outside, it all feels like something you've both left behind already.

Your bodies are still entwined, your limbs tangled together as if trying to become one. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your chest, his breath hot and heavy against your neck.

Having Joel Miller come back to town feels like a dream come true, and not just because of the mind-blowing sex you just had. It feels like he's here for you, to keep you, to lift you up and carry you off to the new life you both have waiting for you.

Neither of you says anything for a long time, content to bask in the afterglow and the moonlight of the night. You can feel the connection between you growing stronger, a bond that goes beyond mere physical pleasure.

As you lay there, completely sated and relaxed, you can't help but feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be. And it's in that moment of pure bliss that Joel's deep voice breaks the silence.

"Darlin'," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You jump a little, startled out of your peaceful reverie. But as you turn to look at him, you see the warmth and love in his eyes, and you know that this is no dream.

"Can I get you anythin'? You want somethin'?" Joel's voice, tinged with his Southern drawl, is like music to your ears as he gazes at you with a look that feels like it's etched into your memory forever.

"I think you just gave me what I needed, cowboy," you reply, a playful glint in your eyes as you exhale a long breath, feeling the lingering effects of your passionate encounter with him.

"I may never walk straight again, but I'm good," you assure him, snuggling close as he gently wraps one of his strong arms around you, pulling you into his warmth.

After a moment of blissful silence, a realization hits you, and you let out a low groan. There are things you need to attend to after such intense intimacy.

You quickly kiss Joel, mumbling about needing to freshen up and use the bathroom, waddling slightly as you make your way. Once you're done, you eagerly return to his embrace, seeking the comfort and closeness only he can provide.

"What is it?" Joel's voice is filled with concern as he notices the slight shift in your demeanor.

Your life before the sun rises is still out there, waiting for you both. Responsibilities and realities loom on the horizon, but in this moment, all you want is to be held by Joel, to feel his presence anchoring you in a world that suddenly feels uncertain.

He takes a slow breath, his arms enveloping you in a protective embrace, offering you solace and reassurance. Both of you are acutely aware of the depth of your connection, of the emotions that have been stirred between you, and the inevitable challenges that lie ahead.

As you lay entwined with Joel, the weight of the future pressing in, you find comfort in the strength of his arms, in the love and understanding that flows between you. In this moment, you know that no matter what comes next, you have each other, and that is enough to face the aftermath of it all.

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM - CH.2

WILL BE OUT LATER (TOMORROW) 12AM PST !!!!!!!!!

Maybe earlier if you all yell at me for it 😉

[theetherealbloom]

OHMYGOD U READ IT 😭😭

Arizona ilysm ur the best and the literal GOAT 😭🤍

Thank you for dealing with my brain rot and obsessions you are amazing 🫶🤍

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

Chapter One: I Know He's Crazy, But He's The One I Want

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking around, FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Kissing, Barely any plot, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content,

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Happy “The Tortured Poets Department” release! I couldn’t help but shriek with joy when I heard But Daddy I Love Him. Literally, dad best friend Joel Miller coded. I would like to thank @wheresarizona for dealing with my spam in her messages from me as I was yapping about the new album and gushing over her writing; she’s literally one of the best writers ever. That is a fact and I will die on that hill.

This fic is heavily inspired by all of the dad's best friend books and dbf!Joel Miller fics I have read over the years. It is with great honor (and a lot of fucking fear) to present to you this Frankenstein of all of my fav tropes!

Heads up, I’m actually dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As you walk past the neighboring house, you observe the real estate agent meticulously placing the 'SOLD' banner onto the weathered for sale sign. A strange sense of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that someone has finally purchased the property.

Entering your home, you release a sigh of relief as the familiar comfort washes over you. With a casual toss, your keys and bag find their place on the hallway table. The urge to call out to your dad bubbles up, but it freezes in your throat when you're met with an unexpected sound drifting from his home office.

Your heart quickens as you peek inside, only to find your dad's best friend, Joel Miller, lounging on the plush brown lazy boy. His deep, resonant voice fills the room, sending shivers down your spine even before you lay eyes on him.

Clutching the doorframe for support, you fight to steady your nerves. With trembling fingers, you manage to force a smile onto your lips, though it feels strained. "Hey, Dad. Hey… Joel," you manage to squeak, the mere sound of his name stirring a flurry of emotions within you.

The room feels stiflingly quiet as you wait for a response, the weight of Joel's gaze almost tangible. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as his intense eyes meet yours. His attention feels almost palpable, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sends a rush of warmth through your body. With a low, almost imperceptible grunt of acknowledgment, Joel's gaze finally breaks away, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You try to avert your gaze out of sheer habit, but it's futile, like trying not to be drawn to the most captivating, exquisite sight in existence.

God, it's as if he's been carved from pure perfection, each time you lay eyes on him.

That same intense, brooding look he wore the day of your college graduation, late last year, still grips you. And it seems Joel's gaze has the same effect on your dad, eliciting a familiar reaction. With a quick double-take, your dad shoots a glance at his best friend before swiveling in his seat.

"Hey there, sweetheart, just catching up with Joel. He dropped by for a surprise visit," your dad starts, but he halts mid-sentence, noticing your undeniable reaction. Concern etches his features as he addresses you. "Honey?" he prompts, his voice laced with worry, as you struggle to find your voice for the umpteenth time in mere seconds.

Joel's gaze narrows, his jaw clenching as his intense scrutiny roams over you, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

As you cling to the doorframe, you can't help but notice the subtle movement of Joel's prominent Adam's apple, betraying his own unease.

Breaking the tension, your dad's nervous chuckle pierces the silence, attributing my apparent moodiness to your usual banter. He turns back to Joel, commenting on his friend's expression.

"What's going on with you two?" he quips, his tone shifting from light-hearted to serious in an instant. "Feels like there's some dirty secret between you," your dad adds, the jest evaporating from his voice. Yet, Joel remains unfazed by your dad's observation, his gaze still locked onto you as a faint smile curves his lips.

His lips curl into a smirk, accentuating the charming dimple that appears in his slightly scruffy beard whenever he smiles—a sight that never fails to tug at your heartstrings.

But as your dad's suspicion lingers in the air, Joel's demeanor shifts, yet you still struggle to connect the dots regarding why he's been giving you that look since graduation.

That day was meant to mark a pivotal moment in your life, celebrating the culmination of years of hard work in college. Yet, Joel's presence, the way he gazed at you, and the unexpected intensity of his hug during the congratulations... It's forever etched in your memory for reasons beyond the academic achievement.

And at the center of it all is one word: Joel.

He's a towering figure, a mix of solid muscle and the comforting softness of his belly. In the moment, you brushed off his tight embrace after receiving your diploma as merely the enthusiasm of the occasion.

But as you felt his whole body pressing right into yours during that hug, you knew it wasn’t your regular type of embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear. And though you didn’t catch his next words as clearly, you're certain he said something else that day. “…You feel so fuckin’ good….”

At least, that's what you've been convincing yourself he said. You recall gazing up into those big brown eyes, the same intense look he's giving you now, and wondering the same thing. How could an older, dangerously attractive man like Joel be even remotely interested in someone like you? Apart from being your dad’s best friend, he's more than twice your age and lives on the other side of the country with his daughter, Sarah.

You can almost picture the scandalized gasps of the single older women and ex-wives in your town, clutching their pearls and whispering, "What a mess," if you and Joel ever got together; if he was even remotely interested in you like that.

But you've replayed that scene in your mind every day since, and no matter how hard you try, there's just no denying your secret crush on him.

It all started long before college, your feelings for Joel simmering beneath the surface. Back then, you couldn't quite grasp what it was you felt for him. All you knew was that it felt right, and that feeling remains unchanged. Despite the nerves and shyness that being around him brings, there's another undeniable effect he has on you.

Like the overwhelming desire to sink back and beg him to indulge in things that his best friend's daughter probably shouldn't be fantasizing about. It's been a while since you last saw Joel, but he still exudes the same charm and looks even more handsome and fit than before, thanks to his job in construction as a contractor.

And when you receive that same look from him today, when your dad even jokes about his suspicions, you know Joel remembers that day too. The intensity in his eyes mirrors the moment he pulled you close, a memory etched as your most cherished moment so far.

"Well, I reckon’ my presence here might come as a bit of a surprise," Joel rasps, his gaze locked with yours as he emits a low chuckle for your dad's benefit. Unnoticed by your dad, Joel shoots you a sly wink, and you watch as your dad's tension melts away. He's relieved to know he wasn't imagining things, and undoubtedly thrilled once he hears Joel's news. "I'm moving here, right next door with Sarah. Tommy should be dropping her off here tomorrow," he announces with enthusiasm, but you feel the pit of your stomach drop.

Joel... here? For good? Oh, fuck.

Your dad erupts into loud whoops, raising both hands in the air. "It's about time, buddy! I knew you were keeping something from me," he adds, turning to you once again. "You were aware of this?" he asks, furrowing his brow with a hint of confusion. 

"You knew Joel and Sarah were coming to town, didn’t you?" Dad repeats, finally grinning like a child at the news. Smiling like a dad who's pushed aside any notion of his best friend showing interest in his only daughter. And you catch a sly grin on Joel’s face as he comes to your rescue. "Oh, I mentioned I might pay a visit. Buttercup here wasn't aware of the specifics or that Sarah and I would be relocatin’ back here," he explains to your dad.

But when Joel smoothly fibs to your dad, insinuating that you were aware of his impending move back to town, even though it caught you completely off guard, he seals an instant and secret pact between the two of you with a single glance. His deep brown eyes wink at you, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You realize you're in deeper trouble than you initially thought. And strangely enough, it's the kind of trouble you welcome with open arms.

In that fleeting moment, a silent understanding passes between you and Joel. With just a wink from him, your chest flutters with excitement, and a wave of anticipation rushes through you, leaving you feeling unexpectedly aroused at the prospect of having him nearby all the time. You're fully committed now, Joel's lie to his best friend serving as a shield for both of you, deflecting attention away from the undeniable tension between you.

"Sarah called last week," you fabricate, deciding to play along with Joel's deception. "As we were chatting, Joel mentioned something about visiting. It must've slipped my mind to mention it to you," you explain to your dad, hoping he'll buy into the white lie. Joel's low growl of contentment as he leans back, causing the leather chair to creak, reassures you that he approves of your little ruse.

Your dad's elation at the news of his best friend's return to their quaint little town is palpable, enough to overshadow any scolding he might have had for your omission about Sarah and Joel's supposed call.

But the truth remains: Sarah never called, and Joel's mysterious behavior is raising more questions than answers.

A surprise visit is one thing, but the intensity of Joel's gaze? The way he makes you feel? It's enough to give your long-standing crush on him a serious run for its money.

"But damn, Sarah will be here tomorrow?" your dad groans before chuckling. "A bit more notice would've been nice, but hell, it'll be good to see you, buddy."

"Listen, I've got something I can't postpone tomorrow. Maybe my daughter here could accompany you to pick up Sarah from the airport?" your dad suggests, turning his attention towards you.

Somewhere behind you, a strange sound escapes—it's you, emitting a sort of mewling noise that you know Joel catches, his smile widening in response.

"Sounds perfect," he agrees before you even have a chance to process it.

"Sweetie?" your dad asks, his tone sheepish now that he's volunteered you without asking if you were available.

You can only watch as the room seems to spin around you, nodding in agreement. "Yeah... sure, I don't have any tutoring sessions tomorrow."

"Perfect!" your dad sighs with relief, promising Joel they'll catch up later. "But I really need to get back to the shop. Are you alright here with her to help you settle into your new house with whatever you brought? The rest of your stuff hasn't arrived yet."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," Joel assures in his trademark baritone, locking eyes with you.

You were so fixated on Joel's presence that you hadn't noticed the bags by the side of the home office.

"Sweetie? You sure you're okay to help? You look kind of..." your dad starts, but you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before replying, "Yeah, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. I can help."

"Alright then," your dad grabs his car keys, ready to leave the home office. He gives you both a final glance, kissing the top of your head. "I'll be back for dinner. Have fun, you two!"

You and Joel remain frozen in place, him on one side of the room and you by the doorway, both listening to your dad's fading footsteps and the rumble of his truck as he drives away.

You’re so fucked.

It's been six long months since you last saw each other, and for Joel, it's felt like an eternity. The day of your graduation marked the first time he laid eyes on you in over three years, and it was as if he was seeing you for the very first time.

You've grown into a remarkable adult, and Joel couldn't help but feel the overwhelming need to be there, not only for his buddy, your dad, but also for his sweet Buttercup. Witnessing his little girl all grown up and ready to embark on her journey into the world with her diploma was a moment he'll never forget. He'd never seen his best friend prouder, yet his gaze lingered on you for entirely different reasons.

Reasons and desires that had never crossed Joel's mind until that day. He couldn't resist pulling you close, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his.

What was he thinking? Surely, everyone could see the effect you had on him.

But Joel wasn't thinking, he was acting on instinct. He was claiming what he knew belonged to him. Telling you he was proud of you was one thing, but he's still unsure if you heard what else he said about how good you felt in his arms.

Yet, he doesn't regret it. Because it was true then, and it remains true now. He just wishes he knew if you felt the same way. If you felt it in the same way he did. But how could you possibly feel the same way about him as he has about you these past six months?

Joel couldn't deny that there were many reasons why the relationship between you was complicated. For one, there was the age difference - you were more than half his age. Apart from having the kind of body he could grip, suck and fuck for a lifetime, additionally, you were his best friend's daughter, a bond that ran deep and could not be ignored.

That day, Joel took a risk, blurring the lines and potentially jeopardizing not just his friendship with your dad, but also the bond he shared with you by being so affectionate.

Surprisingly, you didn't seem to mind his gestures, and Joel was convinced that your dad hadn't even noticed. Despite the undeniable attraction he felt towards you, a feeling that lingered and intensified with every thought of you, Joel couldn't shake the worry that his actions might have caused a rift.

As days turned into weeks without any word from your dad, Joel's mind raced with doubts. He couldn't help but question if you had confided in your father about his behavior. Perhaps your dad had sensed Joel's infatuation with you, leading to a silence that spoke volumes.

Intrusive thoughts plagued Joel, wondering if you had been uncomfortable with his displays of affection. The fear that you might have someone else in your life to hold onto gnawed at him, leaving him restless and anxious about the potential consequences of his actions.

Joel and your dad used to share conversations daily, a bond that time and life's demands have gradually weakened, particularly with Sarah still navigating middle school. They both acknowledge the need to reconnect more often, yet something always seems to intervene.

But Joel's decision to visit your father in person wasn't impulsive; it was a deliberate choice, driven by a desire to stay for good this time.

No more fleeting visits. This time, it's permanent.

And it's all because of you.

Since your graduation day, you've occupied Joel's thoughts relentlessly. It's more than just an obsession; you're the sole focus of his mind, consuming his every waking moment.

You are the only thing he can fucking think about.

Joel would never dare voice his thoughts to your dad, not just because of his feelings, but also because your father had a history of using his fists to settle matters. If he even suspected a fraction of what Joel's mind was consumed with regarding his daughter... Well, Joel would never be allowed in your home, with your dad likely ensuring Joel carried a permanent reminder of his displeasure.

Despite his reluctance to keep secrets from his lifelong friend, Joel's motivation to act stems from a burning need that is beyond his mere desire to reunite with you.

He doesn't just want to see you again; he craves it with a fervor that borders on desperation. And the only way to satisfy this yearning is to summon the courage to ask for more.

Reconnecting with your dad was pleasant, but the sight of you, standing in the doorway of the home office, unleashes a torrent of emotions within Joel. It's as though he's been trapped in a deep freeze for the past six months, and your mere presence ignites a firestorm within him.

Every curve of your silhouette, every strand of hair framing your face, fuels Joel's desire until it simmers beyond control, all for you.

As you watched him, his gaze never wavered from your presence, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He was grateful for the chair that supported him, as he felt the insanely hard erection you gave him.

Your natural grace and beauty had left him breathless, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

All from just being yourself. All without you even trying to do anything. 

You really are just fucking perfect in every way.

You're now an adult, poised to embrace all the challenges and pleasures that adulthood entails. The mere thought sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you once more, evoking memories of his touch on that unforgettable graduation day.

The intoxicating blend of his woodsy cologne, the creak of his well-worn leather jacket, and the soft fabric of his grey tee shirt against your skin linger in your mind, igniting a longing for more.

The sensation that floods Joel as he lays eyes on you in person after so long defies description.

It takes all his willpower to resist the impulse to stride over and scoop you up, succumbing to the overwhelming desire to claim you as his own and to drag you into your bedroom. But he restrains himself, clinging to the last shreds of his resolve, waiting for any sign from you that you're ready for his embrace.

When your gaze meets his, he witnesses the hitch in your breath, and he can't help but murmur, "Come here, sweetheart." Your response is like a magnetic pull, drawing you into his strong, steadfast arms. As you melt into his embrace, he's struck by the sense of finally being home. You are his home now.

Joel inhales the sweet fragrance of your hair, longing to whisper countless sentiments into your perfect little ear nestled so close to his mouth.

But all he can muster, without risking scaring you away, is a simple declaration in his southern drawl, "I missed you, my little buttercup."

You bury your face into his checkered flannel, your words muffled against his shirt as you confess, "I missed you too, Joel."

Your body instinctively gravitates towards his, fueled by both necessity and reflex. The memory of his last embrace has haunted your thoughts for the past six months, and as his massive, comforting arms envelop you once more, it feels as though you're picking up right where you left off. He feels even better than you remembered, and the mingling scents of his cologne and freshly laundered clothes stir a desire within you to cling to him forever.

Reluctantly, he releases you from the hug, clearing his throat as you take a small step back, managing to squeak out, “Do you want a cup of coffee before you get settled in your new house?”

“Sure,” Joel nods, and you sense him hovering behind you as you descend the staircase and enter the kitchen. You can feel his eyes tracing your movements from behind.

You busy yourself preparing the coffee as Joel sets his things down, knowing it'll provide the perfect opportunity to sit down and have a proper conversation.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, his gaze remains fixed on your curves as you move around the kitchen. In that moment, he realizes there's no way he can stay in this house for more than an hour, without confessing his feelings to you.

“You got a boyfriend?”

The sudden question nearly causes you to spill hot water all over your hand, and you freeze, feeling a slight tremble coursing through you.

“Well?” Joel's deep voice sends shivers down your spine, as if you're caught in the midst of the most exhilarating earthquake imaginable. Your mouth hangs open, unsure of how to respond.

“Boyfriend or not?” he repeats, his tone commanding. “Not,” you answer instantly, not minding the question one bit, especially when you see its effect on Joel.

“Good. Perfect,” he rumbles in a low tone.

Turning back to the kitchen counter, the clinking of ceramic cups fills the room, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as the heat spreads throughout your body and to the tips of your ears.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask, turning your head just long enough to inquire.

The sight of your body shifting under your clothes already ignites fantasies in Joel's mind, imagining all the ways he could pleasure you, even right there on your dad's kitchen floor if you desired.

“Joel?” you prompt, breaking him out of his daydream.

“Uh… Sure. Cream and sugar,” he echoes, noticing your continued blush and slight trembling as you prepare the cups. As you approach him with the coffee, the sudden sound of your dad's voice startles you, causing you to drop one cup, which shatters on the floor.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face as he rushes to the sink to run cold water over the affected area.

"I'm fine, Dad. Really," you reply, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I thought you were gone," you add, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I just forgot something. I came back to get it," your father explains, his eyes darting nervously between you and Joel.

Your father's gaze is fixed on Joel, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Joel's obvious concern for you. Anyone could see the way Joel feels about you, and your father's disapproval is palpable.

But you're not a child anymore, and you're tired of your father's disapproval. "Dad, I'm fine. You just startled me, that's all. Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?" you ask, trying to keep the anger out of your voice.

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but the words don't come. He sighs and shakes his head, gathering the pieces of the broken cup and tossing them in the trash on his way out. The sound of his car speeding away speaks volumes.

"Maybe I should go," Joel suggests, but you wave off his concern.

"Don't worry about my dad. He's been weird ever since I graduated from college," you say, dismissing his concerns.

But Joel knows that your father's suspicions go back further than just this morning. He moves to help you clean up the mess on the floor, ignoring the broken glass and coffee spill. Gently, he takes your hand in his, wincing at the stinging and burn.

"Let's get this under some cold water," he says, leading you to the sink. You lean back against him as he guides your hand under the icy flow, your body yielding to his touch.

"Feel better?" he asks, his voice low and soothing. You nod, leaning into him as the cold water soothes your burn.

Joel's heart races as he holds you, feeling your warmth against him. He knows that your father doesn't approve of him, but he can't help how he feels. He's fallen for you, hard, and he's not going to let your father's disapproval get in the way.

"It feels better now," you whisper, your breath sending shivers down Joel's spine. He moves closer to you, feeling the pressure of your back against his aching cock.

"I can't help but notice how your body is responding to mine," Joel says, his voice low and husky.

"Should we start over?" he asks, leaning down so his mouth is close to your ear.

"You mean with the coffee?" you ask, playing coy. But your body is telling a different story.

"I mean starting over without your dad around," Joel clarifies, moving his hand to stroke the back of your neck.

You turn to face him, looking up into his deep brown eyes. "Just stay," you say, biting your lip.

Joel nods, his hands resting on your hips. "I'm not going anywhere, darlin'," he promises. "I'll be right next door, whenever you need me."

You stand there, close enough to kiss, but Joel holds back. He wants to savor this moment, to make it last.

"I meant what I said that day you graduated," Joel whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "You feel so fucking good."

His words send a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel his arousal pressing against your back, and he grips your hips, pulling you closer.

You plead with Joel to stay, not just because of how the morning has unfolded but because deep down, you need him by your side.

The words you long to say to Joel linger on the tip of your tongue, but the rush of emotions leaves you speechless. Your heart races as you grapple with the intensity of your feelings, unsure of how to express them.

As you run your hand under the cold water, trying to steady your nerves, you suggest preparing the spare room as a distraction. Anything to divert your thoughts and feelings that are swirling inside you.

The tension between you and Joel crackles in the air, the unspoken desire palpable. His longing mirrors your own, creating a charged atmosphere that leaves you both on edge.

"Is your hand going to be okay?" Joel's voice is laced with concern as he looks at you, and you nod in response.

"It's just a minor burn from the coffee," you murmur, trying to focus on the task.

"Shall I make us more coffee?" Joel offers, already cleaning up the mess on the floor. But your attention is drawn to the undeniable presence pressing against your back, sending a rush of sensations through you.

Your heart races as you realize the extent of Joel's desire, his arousal evident in every inch of his being.

"I don't need to go to the guest room," Joel says, his voice low and intimate as he picks up the broken pieces of the mug.

"And I meant what I said earlier," he adds, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You should feel embarrassed, and remind him of boundaries, but the magnetic pull between you is undeniable.

"What did you mean?" you ask, a hint of defiance in your voice, craving his words like a drug.

His lips curl into a knowing smile as he repeats his earlier statement, his gaze lingering on you suggestively.

"You feel so good," Joel says, his words sending a surge of heat through you, your cheeks flushing with desire.

"Is that why you came back?" you inquire, emboldened by the charged atmosphere between you.

"What do you think?" Joel replies, closing the distance between you, the space crackling with unspoken promises and desires.

You feel trapped, torn between your desires and the weight of your past.

Your hands tremble as you press them against Joel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You slide your fingers down, curling around a button on his flannel shirt.

"My dad, for Sarah," you croak, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath your touch.

"I didn't come back to town just to see your dad," he says, his voice low and steady. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable either."

He pauses, taking another deep breath before he continues. "What I mean is, what I'm tryin’ to ask you, is could you have feelings for an older man? A man like me, maybe?"

His eyes bore into yours, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. You know what he's asking, and your heart races at the thought of giving in to your desires.

"I want to hear it from your lips," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "I like you a lot, Joel," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel pauses, his eyes never leaving yours. "But?" he prompts, giving you an out if you need it.

You look up at Joel, your eyes pleading with him to make the decision for you. But there's no hesitation in his gaze. He leans in, pressing his warm lips against your hand, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

"Does it feel like this?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the heat that's building inside you.

"Do you really want me, darlin'?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You moan, unable to contain your desire any longer.

"Yes," you gasp, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I want you."

Joel growls, a low, primal sound that sends shivers down your spine. He presses your hand against his stiff erection, and you can feel the heat and hardness of him through his jeans.

You trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, forgetting all about the burn on your hand, the hot coffee, and even your dad and his house. All that matters is the feel of Joel's body against yours, the heat and hardness of him that you've longed for since graduation day.

"Then come here," he growls, leaning down further and taking your face in his palm. You shudder one last breath of uncertainty before the warmth of his mouth over yours means neither of you will ever have to ask that question again.

Joel's lips are soft and tender, but his kiss is urgent and demanding. You feel yourself melting into him, your body responding to his touch with a hunger you've never felt before.

His hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour, as if he's been waiting for this moment for years. You respond in kind, your hands tugging at his flannel shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

The heat between you builds, until you're both panting and gasping for breath. Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you dizzy with desire.

Joel can't help himself as he lifts you up and sets you down on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around him as he devours your mouth with his own. His hands roam your body, feeling the curves and contours of your figure as if for the first time.

You respond eagerly, your hands tangled in his hair as you deepen the kiss. Joel's touch sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself growing wet with desire.

Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you gasp with pleasure. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him as you feel his hardness against your thigh.

He makes you purr and moan, fulfilling every fantasy you've ever had. Your hands move down to his throbbing cock, gripping and squeezing him through his denim, but you both know this is just the beginning.

Joel has already crossed the line he set for himself, unable to resist the pull between you. He wants more than just a physical connection; he wants all of you, your heart, your soul, your everything.

He envisions a future with you, a life where you're by his side, where you're free to be yourself, to indulge in every desire and dream. He wants to give you a home, a place where you can be truly happy, where the two of you can explore each other endlessly.

As you catch your breath, Joel eases his hold on you, sensing the need for a moment of clarity. Your smile and the flush in your cheeks speak volumes, reassuring him that you're on the same page.

"Holy shit," you exclaim, breathless and exhilarated. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the strength and warmth of him beneath your touch.

Joel exhales slowly, realizing he may have moved too quickly for you. "Too much, darlin'?" he asks with a chuckle, relieved when you giggle and nod in agreement.

But he sees the worry in your eyes, the need for understanding and space. You grip his flannel, pulling him close for a quick kiss, your words a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"I want this... I want you, Joel. I do," you confess, your voice filled with longing and hesitation.

"Just... not right now, not like this," you trail off, and Joel finishes your sentence, understanding the need for time and space to process everything.

He lifts you off the counter, noting how light you feel in his arms. He watches you pace the kitchen, a mix of emotions playing across your face. He settles on a stool, giving you the space you need to sort through your thoughts.

"I didn't think you were leading me on, and I didn't mean to be so forward," Joel says, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time, process everythin’ darlin’.”

Joel's phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he knows it's your father. He takes a deep breath and answers the call, trying to sound casual. You've stopped pacing but still look dazed, as if you're trying to process what just happened between us.

"Hey, man," Joel greets, hearing your father's voice from his car, still on his way to the office.

"Joel, I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I guess I'm the one who needs a nap, but I can't afford the time right now," he says, sounding sincere.

Your father has always been honest and upfront, and Joel feels a mix of pride and guilt as he listens to his apology. He knows that your dad will be upset once he finds out about the two of you, but until then, Joel thinks it's best to keep your secret a little longer.

"You don't have to apologize, buddy," Joel says, trying to reassure him. "When do you finish work today?" he asks, already thinking about the time they have left alone together.

More time to take things slow? Joel isn't sure. He wants to savor every moment with you, but he also can't wait to explore every inch of your body.

As your father continues to talk, Joel watches you, his mind filled with thoughts of the two of you together. He knows that things will get complicated soon, but for now, he's happy to be in your presence, to feel your warmth and energy.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Joel says, ending the call and turning to you. "Are you okay?" he asks, taking a step closer to you.

You nod, still looking dazed, and Joel wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. He knows that the two of you have a lot to talk about, but for now, he's content to hold you, to feel your heart beating against his chest.

The future may be uncertain, but Joel knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this way about anyone before, and he's not about to let you go.

As Joel holds you close, your head resting on his chest, you finally voice the question that's been lingering between you.

"I guess we can't do this sort of thing around my Dad, huh?" you ask, your voice soft against his skin.

Joel strokes your hair gently, his heart full of emotions he never thought he'd feel again. He marvels at how easily and perfectly this moment has unfolded, how right it feels to have you in his arms.

"We probably shouldn't, not yet," Joel replies, his voice tinged with longing. He feels you nod in agreement, and he knows that keeping this secret will be a challenge.

Joel had left town to escape the past, to build a new future for himself and his daughter Sarah. But now, as he returns to the place where it all began, he realizes that his future is intertwined with yours.

He sees a future with you, a life filled with love and possibility. He dreams of a family with you, of building something lasting and meaningful together.

As he holds you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his, Joel knows that this is just the beginning. 

As you and Joel waste no time getting settled in the new house, the air crackles with anticipation. Joel turns the key in the door, and as you step inside, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of desire.

Without a word, you set down his bag, and Joel takes your hand, pulling you close. He lifts you effortlessly, spinning you around in a dizzying whirl of passion and need.

The lock clicks shut, sealing you both in a world of raw desire and longing. The house feels like a sanctuary, a place where only you and Joel exist, at least for the next hour or so.

"Aren't you gonna show me around first? I had no idea the inside was so nice," you giggle, your head spinning from the intensity of his touch and the day's events.

"I thought you might like to show me around... your sweet fuckin’ body," Joel rasps in your ear before claiming your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Each touch, each kiss, ignites a fire within you, driving you to the edge of reason.

"You tell me if it gets too much, alright darlin'?" Joel murmurs between kisses, his strong arms wrapped around you. You nod eagerly, your body craving his touch, his presence.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, you gravitate towards the nearest soft surface, a luxurious leather sofa in the living room. Joel stops in front of it, but you're consumed by the need for him, the hunger for his touch.

You try to nod, talk, and kiss him all at once, but the overwhelming desire he stirs in you leaves you breathless and unable to form coherent words. "Yeah... fuck... yes, I will," you pant, your body arching into his touch as he explores every inch of you.

Joel lowers you onto the couch, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that matches your own. He drops to his knees in front of you, parting your legs with a firm grip, his gaze locked on your body with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna eat your little pussy, make you come until you beg me to stop,” he says in a firm tone.

His hands move with purpose, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you. You gasp and groan as he explores every inch of you, his fingers and tongue setting your body ablaze with pleasure.

As he delves deeper, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, you feel a wave of pleasure building within you, each touch pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

You writhe and moan under his touch, your body responding to his every move with a hunger that matches his own. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure, the air thick with desire and need.

His elbows prop your knees wide, and half-reclined on the worn leather, you can't help but feel a thrill at the sensations coursing through your body.

The scent of old leather and his cologne mingles with the musk of your arousal, creating a heady mix that only heightens your desire. You're ready for Joel, and you know it won't take long for him to bring you to the edge.

With a rough yank, he tears your panties aside, the sound of fabric rending adding to your arousal. You never knew you could feel this horny, and every moment with Joel only intensifies your desire.

He takes a moment to admire your slick folds, his thick fingers gently parting your lips. You grip his silver-flecked curls tighter as he moves down to taste you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with Joel's deep groans of pleasure. His tongue finds its mark, and you can't help but cry out, your body writhing under his touch.

Joel's mouth covers you completely, his tongue replacing his fingers as he explores every inch of your sex. You're on the brink of climax, your body trembling with need.

"Be patient, darlin'," Joel whispers hoarsely, his voice filled with desire. He grips your thighs, pushing them wider apart until his massive head is pressed between them.

You shift your grip to his broad shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Joel... Joel," you moan, trying to tell him how close you are, how much you want him. But all that comes out are animalistic sounds of pleasure.

Joel's body quakes with silent laughter, his voice deep and reassuring as he promises you can come all night. You trace the outline of his jaw, your body trembling with need as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

If heaven exists, you're sure you've found it in Joel's arms.

AN: I'm such a fool to think that this would be a one-shot... ya'll this is now a mini-series. Don't worry... this will be a two to three-chapter kinda series. 🤍

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM - SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking around, FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Kissing, Barely any plot, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content,

Main Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

Main Masterlist

CONTENTS:

Chapter One: I Know He's Crazy, But He's The One I Want Chapter Two: Just Screeching Tires And True Love Chapter Three: ​​Dutiful Daughter, All My Plans Were Laid Chapter Four: Coming Soon… Epilogue: Coming Soon...

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

Chapter One: I Know He's Crazy, But He's The One I Want

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking around, FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Kissing, Barely any plot, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content,

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Happy “The Tortured Poets Department” release! I couldn’t help but shriek with joy when I heard But Daddy I Love Him. Literally, dad best friend Joel Miller coded. I would like to thank @wheresarizona for dealing with my spam in her messages from me as I was yapping about the new album and gushing over her writing; she’s literally one of the best writers ever. That is a fact and I will die on that hill.

This fic is heavily inspired by all of the dad's best friend books and dbf!Joel Miller fics I have read over the years. It is with great honor (and a lot of fucking fear) to present to you this Frankenstein of all of my fav tropes!

Heads up, I’m actually dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As you walk past the neighboring house, you observe the real estate agent meticulously placing the 'SOLD' banner onto the weathered for sale sign. A strange sense of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that someone has finally purchased the property.

Entering your home, you release a sigh of relief as the familiar comfort washes over you. With a casual toss, your keys and bag find their place on the hallway table. The urge to call out to your dad bubbles up, but it freezes in your throat when you're met with an unexpected sound drifting from his home office.

Your heart quickens as you peek inside, only to find your dad's best friend, Joel Miller, lounging on the plush brown lazy boy. His deep, resonant voice fills the room, sending shivers down your spine even before you lay eyes on him.

Clutching the doorframe for support, you fight to steady your nerves. With trembling fingers, you manage to force a smile onto your lips, though it feels strained. "Hey, Dad. Hey… Joel," you manage to squeak, the mere sound of his name stirring a flurry of emotions within you.

The room feels stiflingly quiet as you wait for a response, the weight of Joel's gaze almost tangible. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as his intense eyes meet yours. His attention feels almost palpable, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sends a rush of warmth through your body. With a low, almost imperceptible grunt of acknowledgment, Joel's gaze finally breaks away, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You try to avert your gaze out of sheer habit, but it's futile, like trying not to be drawn to the most captivating, exquisite sight in existence.

God, it's as if he's been carved from pure perfection, each time you lay eyes on him.

That same intense, brooding look he wore the day of your college graduation, late last year, still grips you. And it seems Joel's gaze has the same effect on your dad, eliciting a familiar reaction. With a quick double-take, your dad shoots a glance at his best friend before swiveling in his seat.

"Hey there, sweetheart, just catching up with Joel. He dropped by for a surprise visit," your dad starts, but he halts mid-sentence, noticing your undeniable reaction. Concern etches his features as he addresses you. "Honey?" he prompts, his voice laced with worry, as you struggle to find your voice for the umpteenth time in mere seconds.

Joel's gaze narrows, his jaw clenching as his intense scrutiny roams over you, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

As you cling to the doorframe, you can't help but notice the subtle movement of Joel's prominent Adam's apple, betraying his own unease.

Breaking the tension, your dad's nervous chuckle pierces the silence, attributing my apparent moodiness to your usual banter. He turns back to Joel, commenting on his friend's expression.

"What's going on with you two?" he quips, his tone shifting from light-hearted to serious in an instant. "Feels like there's some dirty secret between you," your dad adds, the jest evaporating from his voice. Yet, Joel remains unfazed by your dad's observation, his gaze still locked onto you as a faint smile curves his lips.

His lips curl into a smirk, accentuating the charming dimple that appears in his slightly scruffy beard whenever he smiles—a sight that never fails to tug at your heartstrings.

But as your dad's suspicion lingers in the air, Joel's demeanor shifts, yet you still struggle to connect the dots regarding why he's been giving you that look since graduation.

That day was meant to mark a pivotal moment in your life, celebrating the culmination of years of hard work in college. Yet, Joel's presence, the way he gazed at you, and the unexpected intensity of his hug during the congratulations... It's forever etched in your memory for reasons beyond the academic achievement.

And at the center of it all is one word: Joel.

He's a towering figure, a mix of solid muscle and the comforting softness of his belly. In the moment, you brushed off his tight embrace after receiving your diploma as merely the enthusiasm of the occasion.

But as you felt his whole body pressing right into yours during that hug, you knew it wasn’t your regular type of embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear. And though you didn’t catch his next words as clearly, you're certain he said something else that day. “…You feel so fuckin’ good….”

At least, that's what you've been convincing yourself he said. You recall gazing up into those big brown eyes, the same intense look he's giving you now, and wondering the same thing. How could an older, dangerously attractive man like Joel be even remotely interested in someone like you? Apart from being your dad’s best friend, he's more than twice your age and lives on the other side of the country with his daughter, Sarah.

You can almost picture the scandalized gasps of the single older women and ex-wives in your town, clutching their pearls and whispering, "What a mess," if you and Joel ever got together; if he was even remotely interested in you like that.

But you've replayed that scene in your mind every day since, and no matter how hard you try, there's just no denying your secret crush on him.

It all started long before college, your feelings for Joel simmering beneath the surface. Back then, you couldn't quite grasp what it was you felt for him. All you knew was that it felt right, and that feeling remains unchanged. Despite the nerves and shyness that being around him brings, there's another undeniable effect he has on you.

Like the overwhelming desire to sink back and beg him to indulge in things that his best friend's daughter probably shouldn't be fantasizing about. It's been a while since you last saw Joel, but he still exudes the same charm and looks even more handsome and fit than before, thanks to his job in construction as a contractor.

And when you receive that same look from him today, when your dad even jokes about his suspicions, you know Joel remembers that day too. The intensity in his eyes mirrors the moment he pulled you close, a memory etched as your most cherished moment so far.

"Well, I reckon’ my presence here might come as a bit of a surprise," Joel rasps, his gaze locked with yours as he emits a low chuckle for your dad's benefit. Unnoticed by your dad, Joel shoots you a sly wink, and you watch as your dad's tension melts away. He's relieved to know he wasn't imagining things, and undoubtedly thrilled once he hears Joel's news. "I'm moving here, right next door with Sarah. Tommy should be dropping her off here tomorrow," he announces with enthusiasm, but you feel the pit of your stomach drop.

Joel... here? For good? Oh, fuck.

Your dad erupts into loud whoops, raising both hands in the air. "It's about time, buddy! I knew you were keeping something from me," he adds, turning to you once again. "You were aware of this?" he asks, furrowing his brow with a hint of confusion. 

"You knew Joel and Sarah were coming to town, didn’t you?" Dad repeats, finally grinning like a child at the news. Smiling like a dad who's pushed aside any notion of his best friend showing interest in his only daughter. And you catch a sly grin on Joel’s face as he comes to your rescue. "Oh, I mentioned I might pay a visit. Buttercup here wasn't aware of the specifics or that Sarah and I would be relocatin’ back here," he explains to your dad.

But when Joel smoothly fibs to your dad, insinuating that you were aware of his impending move back to town, even though it caught you completely off guard, he seals an instant and secret pact between the two of you with a single glance. His deep brown eyes wink at you, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You realize you're in deeper trouble than you initially thought. And strangely enough, it's the kind of trouble you welcome with open arms.

In that fleeting moment, a silent understanding passes between you and Joel. With just a wink from him, your chest flutters with excitement, and a wave of anticipation rushes through you, leaving you feeling unexpectedly aroused at the prospect of having him nearby all the time. You're fully committed now, Joel's lie to his best friend serving as a shield for both of you, deflecting attention away from the undeniable tension between you.

"Sarah called last week," you fabricate, deciding to play along with Joel's deception. "As we were chatting, Joel mentioned something about visiting. It must've slipped my mind to mention it to you," you explain to your dad, hoping he'll buy into the white lie. Joel's low growl of contentment as he leans back, causing the leather chair to creak, reassures you that he approves of your little ruse.

Your dad's elation at the news of his best friend's return to their quaint little town is palpable, enough to overshadow any scolding he might have had for your omission about Sarah and Joel's supposed call.

But the truth remains: Sarah never called, and Joel's mysterious behavior is raising more questions than answers.

A surprise visit is one thing, but the intensity of Joel's gaze? The way he makes you feel? It's enough to give your long-standing crush on him a serious run for its money.

"But damn, Sarah will be here tomorrow?" your dad groans before chuckling. "A bit more notice would've been nice, but hell, it'll be good to see you, buddy."

"Listen, I've got something I can't postpone tomorrow. Maybe my daughter here could accompany you to pick up Sarah from the airport?" your dad suggests, turning his attention towards you.

Somewhere behind you, a strange sound escapes—it's you, emitting a sort of mewling noise that you know Joel catches, his smile widening in response.

"Sounds perfect," he agrees before you even have a chance to process it.

"Sweetie?" your dad asks, his tone sheepish now that he's volunteered you without asking if you were available.

You can only watch as the room seems to spin around you, nodding in agreement. "Yeah... sure, I don't have any tutoring sessions tomorrow."

"Perfect!" your dad sighs with relief, promising Joel they'll catch up later. "But I really need to get back to the shop. Are you alright here with her to help you settle into your new house with whatever you brought? The rest of your stuff hasn't arrived yet."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," Joel assures in his trademark baritone, locking eyes with you.

You were so fixated on Joel's presence that you hadn't noticed the bags by the side of the home office.

"Sweetie? You sure you're okay to help? You look kind of..." your dad starts, but you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before replying, "Yeah, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. I can help."

"Alright then," your dad grabs his car keys, ready to leave the home office. He gives you both a final glance, kissing the top of your head. "I'll be back for dinner. Have fun, you two!"

You and Joel remain frozen in place, him on one side of the room and you by the doorway, both listening to your dad's fading footsteps and the rumble of his truck as he drives away.

You’re so fucked.

It's been six long months since you last saw each other, and for Joel, it's felt like an eternity. The day of your graduation marked the first time he laid eyes on you in over three years, and it was as if he was seeing you for the very first time.

You've grown into a remarkable adult, and Joel couldn't help but feel the overwhelming need to be there, not only for his buddy, your dad, but also for his sweet Buttercup. Witnessing his little girl all grown up and ready to embark on her journey into the world with her diploma was a moment he'll never forget. He'd never seen his best friend prouder, yet his gaze lingered on you for entirely different reasons.

Reasons and desires that had never crossed Joel's mind until that day. He couldn't resist pulling you close, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his.

What was he thinking? Surely, everyone could see the effect you had on him.

But Joel wasn't thinking, he was acting on instinct. He was claiming what he knew belonged to him. Telling you he was proud of you was one thing, but he's still unsure if you heard what else he said about how good you felt in his arms.

Yet, he doesn't regret it. Because it was true then, and it remains true now. He just wishes he knew if you felt the same way. If you felt it in the same way he did. But how could you possibly feel the same way about him as he has about you these past six months?

Joel couldn't deny that there were many reasons why the relationship between you was complicated. For one, there was the age difference - you were more than half his age. Apart from having the kind of body he could grip, suck and fuck for a lifetime, additionally, you were his best friend's daughter, a bond that ran deep and could not be ignored.

That day, Joel took a risk, blurring the lines and potentially jeopardizing not just his friendship with your dad, but also the bond he shared with you by being so affectionate.

Surprisingly, you didn't seem to mind his gestures, and Joel was convinced that your dad hadn't even noticed. Despite the undeniable attraction he felt towards you, a feeling that lingered and intensified with every thought of you, Joel couldn't shake the worry that his actions might have caused a rift.

As days turned into weeks without any word from your dad, Joel's mind raced with doubts. He couldn't help but question if you had confided in your father about his behavior. Perhaps your dad had sensed Joel's infatuation with you, leading to a silence that spoke volumes.

Intrusive thoughts plagued Joel, wondering if you had been uncomfortable with his displays of affection. The fear that you might have someone else in your life to hold onto gnawed at him, leaving him restless and anxious about the potential consequences of his actions.

Joel and your dad used to share conversations daily, a bond that time and life's demands have gradually weakened, particularly with Sarah still navigating middle school. They both acknowledge the need to reconnect more often, yet something always seems to intervene.

But Joel's decision to visit your father in person wasn't impulsive; it was a deliberate choice, driven by a desire to stay for good this time.

No more fleeting visits. This time, it's permanent.

And it's all because of you.

Since your graduation day, you've occupied Joel's thoughts relentlessly. It's more than just an obsession; you're the sole focus of his mind, consuming his every waking moment.

You are the only thing he can fucking think about.

Joel would never dare voice his thoughts to your dad, not just because of his feelings, but also because your father had a history of using his fists to settle matters. If he even suspected a fraction of what Joel's mind was consumed with regarding his daughter... Well, Joel would never be allowed in your home, with your dad likely ensuring Joel carried a permanent reminder of his displeasure.

Despite his reluctance to keep secrets from his lifelong friend, Joel's motivation to act stems from a burning need that is beyond his mere desire to reunite with you.

He doesn't just want to see you again; he craves it with a fervor that borders on desperation. And the only way to satisfy this yearning is to summon the courage to ask for more.

Reconnecting with your dad was pleasant, but the sight of you, standing in the doorway of the home office, unleashes a torrent of emotions within Joel. It's as though he's been trapped in a deep freeze for the past six months, and your mere presence ignites a firestorm within him.

Every curve of your silhouette, every strand of hair framing your face, fuels Joel's desire until it simmers beyond control, all for you.

As you watched him, his gaze never wavered from your presence, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He was grateful for the chair that supported him, as he felt the insanely hard erection you gave him.

Your natural grace and beauty had left him breathless, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

All from just being yourself. All without you even trying to do anything. 

You really are just fucking perfect in every way.

You're now an adult, poised to embrace all the challenges and pleasures that adulthood entails. The mere thought sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you once more, evoking memories of his touch on that unforgettable graduation day.

The intoxicating blend of his woodsy cologne, the creak of his well-worn leather jacket, and the soft fabric of his grey tee shirt against your skin linger in your mind, igniting a longing for more.

The sensation that floods Joel as he lays eyes on you in person after so long defies description.

It takes all his willpower to resist the impulse to stride over and scoop you up, succumbing to the overwhelming desire to claim you as his own and to drag you into your bedroom. But he restrains himself, clinging to the last shreds of his resolve, waiting for any sign from you that you're ready for his embrace.

When your gaze meets his, he witnesses the hitch in your breath, and he can't help but murmur, "Come here, sweetheart." Your response is like a magnetic pull, drawing you into his strong, steadfast arms. As you melt into his embrace, he's struck by the sense of finally being home. You are his home now.

Joel inhales the sweet fragrance of your hair, longing to whisper countless sentiments into your perfect little ear nestled so close to his mouth.

But all he can muster, without risking scaring you away, is a simple declaration in his southern drawl, "I missed you, my little buttercup."

You bury your face into his checkered flannel, your words muffled against his shirt as you confess, "I missed you too, Joel."

Your body instinctively gravitates towards his, fueled by both necessity and reflex. The memory of his last embrace has haunted your thoughts for the past six months, and as his massive, comforting arms envelop you once more, it feels as though you're picking up right where you left off. He feels even better than you remembered, and the mingling scents of his cologne and freshly laundered clothes stir a desire within you to cling to him forever.

Reluctantly, he releases you from the hug, clearing his throat as you take a small step back, managing to squeak out, “Do you want a cup of coffee before you get settled in your new house? You look kinda tired.”

“Sure,” Joel nods, and you sense him hovering behind you as you descend the staircase and enter the kitchen. You can feel his eyes tracing your movements from behind.

You busy yourself preparing the coffee as Joel sets his things down, knowing it'll provide the perfect opportunity to sit down and have a proper conversation.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, his gaze remains fixed on your curves as you move around the kitchen. In that moment, he realizes there's no way he can stay in this house for more than an hour, without confessing his feelings to you.

“You got a boyfriend?”

The sudden question nearly causes you to spill hot water all over your hand, and you freeze, feeling a slight tremble coursing through you.

“Well?” Joel's deep voice sends shivers down your spine, as if you're caught in the midst of the most exhilarating earthquake imaginable. Your mouth hangs open, unsure of how to respond.

“Boyfriend or not?” he repeats, his tone commanding. “Not,” you answer instantly, not minding the question one bit, especially when you see its effect on Joel.

“Good. Perfect,” he rumbles in a low tone.

Turning back to the kitchen counter, the clinking of ceramic cups fills the room, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as the heat spreads throughout your body and to the tips of your ears.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask, turning your head just long enough to inquire.

The sight of your body shifting under your clothes already ignites fantasies in Joel's mind, imagining all the ways he could pleasure you, even right there on your dad's kitchen floor if you desired.

“Joel?” you prompt, breaking him out of his daydream.

“Uh… Sure. Cream and sugar,” he echoes, noticing your continued blush and slight trembling as you prepare the cups. As you approach him with the coffee, the sudden sound of your dad's voice startles you, causing you to drop one cup, which shatters on the floor.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face as he rushes to the sink to run cold water over the affected area.

"I'm fine, Dad. Really," you reply, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I thought you were gone," you add, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I just forgot something. I came back to get it," your father explains, his eyes darting nervously between you and Joel.

Your father's gaze is fixed on Joel, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Joel's obvious concern for you. Anyone could see the way Joel feels about you, and your father's disapproval is palpable.

But you're not a child anymore, and you're tired of your father's disapproval. "Dad, I'm fine. You just startled me, that's all. Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?" you ask, trying to keep the anger out of your voice.

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but the words don't come. He sighs and shakes his head, gathering the pieces of the broken cup and tossing them in the trash on his way out. The sound of his car speeding away speaks volumes.

"Maybe I should go," Joel suggests, but you wave off his concern.

"Don't worry about my dad. He's been weird ever since I graduated from college," you say, dismissing his concerns.

But Joel knows that your father's suspicions go back further than just this morning. He moves to help you clean up the mess on the floor, ignoring the broken glass and coffee spill. Gently, he takes your hand in his, wincing at the stinging and burn.

"Let's get this under some cold water," he says, leading you to the sink. You lean back against him as he guides your hand under the icy flow, your body yielding to his touch.

"Feel better?" he asks, his voice low and soothing. You nod, leaning into him as the cold water soothes your burn.

Joel's heart races as he holds you, feeling your warmth against him. He knows that your father doesn't approve of him, but he can't help how he feels. He's fallen for you, hard, and he's not going to let your father's disapproval get in the way.

"It feels better now," you whisper, your breath sending shivers down Joel's spine. He moves closer to you, feeling the pressure of your back against his aching cock.

"I can't help but notice how your body is responding to mine," Joel says, his voice low and husky.

"Should we start over?" he asks, leaning down so his mouth is close to your ear.

"You mean with the coffee?" you ask, playing coy. But your body is telling a different story.

"I mean starting over without your dad around," Joel clarifies, moving his hand to stroke the back of your neck.

You turn to face him, looking up into his deep brown eyes. "Just stay," you say, biting your lip.

Joel nods, his hands resting on your hips. "I'm not going anywhere, darlin'," he promises. "I'll be right next door, whenever you need me."

You stand there, close enough to kiss, but Joel holds back. He wants to savor this moment, to make it last.

"I meant what I said that day you graduated," Joel whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "You feel so fucking good."

His words send a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel his arousal pressing against your back, and he grips your hips, pulling you closer.

You plead with Joel to stay, not just because of how the morning has unfolded but because deep down, you need him by your side.

The words you long to say to Joel linger on the tip of your tongue, but the rush of emotions leaves you speechless. Your heart races as you grapple with the intensity of your feelings, unsure of how to express them.

As you run your hand under the cold water, trying to steady your nerves, you suggest preparing the spare room as a distraction. Anything to divert your thoughts and feelings that are swirling inside you.

The tension between you and Joel crackles in the air, the unspoken desire palpable. His longing mirrors your own, creating a charged atmosphere that leaves you both on edge.

"Is your hand goin' to be okay?" Joel's voice is laced with concern as he looks at you, and you nod in response.

"It's just a minor burn from the coffee," you murmur, trying to focus on the task.

"Shall I make us more coffee?" Joel offers, already cleaning up the mess on the floor. But your attention is drawn to the undeniable presence pressing against your back, sending a rush of sensations through you.

Your heart races as you realize the extent of Joel's desire, his arousal evident in every inch of his being.

"I'm not tired," Joel says, his voice low and intimate as he picks up the broken pieces of the mug.

"And I meant what I said earlier," he adds, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You should feel embarrassed, and remind him of boundaries, but the magnetic pull between you is undeniable.

"What did you mean?" you ask, a hint of defiance in your voice, craving his words like a drug.

His lips curl into a knowing smile as he repeats his earlier statement, his gaze lingering on you suggestively.

"You feel so good," Joel says, his words sending a surge of heat through you, your cheeks flushing with desire.

"Is that why you came back?" you inquire, emboldened by the charged atmosphere between you.

"What do you think?" Joel replies, closing the distance between you, the space crackling with unspoken promises and desires.

You feel trapped, torn between your desires and the weight of your past.

Your hands tremble as you press them against Joel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You slide your fingers down, curling around a button on his flannel shirt.

"My dad, for Sarah," you croak, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath your touch.

"I didn't come back to town just to see your dad," he says, his voice low and steady. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable either."

He pauses, taking another deep breath before he continues. "What I mean is, what I'm tryin’ to ask you, is could you have feelings for an older man? A man like me, maybe?"

His eyes bore into yours, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. You know what he's asking, and your heart races at the thought of giving in to your desires.

"I want to hear it from your lips," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "I like you a lot, Joel," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel pauses, his eyes never leaving yours. "But?" he prompts, giving you an out if you need it.

You look up at Joel, your eyes pleading with him to make the decision for you. But there's no hesitation in his gaze. He leans in, pressing his warm lips against your hand, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

"Does it feel like this?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the heat that's building inside you.

"Do you really want me, darlin'?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You moan, unable to contain your desire any longer.

"Yes," you gasp, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I want you."

Joel growls, a low, primal sound that sends shivers down your spine. He presses your hand against his stiff erection, and you can feel the heat and hardness of him through his jeans.

You trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, forgetting all about the burn on your hand, the hot coffee, and even your dad and his house. All that matters is the feel of Joel's body against yours, the heat and hardness of him that you've longed for since graduation day.

"Then come here," he growls, leaning down further and taking your face in his palm. You shudder one last breath of uncertainty before the warmth of his mouth over yours means neither of you will ever have to ask that question again.

Joel's lips are soft and tender, but his kiss is urgent and demanding. You feel yourself melting into him, your body responding to his touch with a hunger you've never felt before.

His hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour, as if he's been waiting for this moment for years. You respond in kind, your hands tugging at his flannel shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

The heat between you builds, until you're both panting and gasping for breath. Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you dizzy with desire.

Joel can't help himself as he lifts you up and sets you down on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around him as he devours your mouth with his own. His hands roam your body, feeling the curves and contours of your figure as if for the first time.

You respond eagerly, your hands tangled in his hair as you deepen the kiss. Joel's touch sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself growing wet with desire.

Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you gasp with pleasure. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him as you feel his hardness against your thigh.

He makes you purr and moan, fulfilling every fantasy you've ever had. Your hands move down to his throbbing cock, gripping and squeezing him through his denim, but you both know this is just the beginning.

Joel has already crossed the line he set for himself, unable to resist the pull between you. He wants more than just a physical connection; he wants all of you, your heart, your soul, your everything.

He envisions a future with you, a life where you're by his side, where you're free to be yourself, to indulge in every desire and dream. He wants to give you a home, a place where you can be truly happy, where the two of you can explore each other endlessly.

As you catch your breath, Joel eases his hold on you, sensing the need for a moment of clarity. Your smile and the flush in your cheeks speak volumes, reassuring him that you're on the same page.

"Holy shit," you exclaim, breathless and exhilarated. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the strength and warmth of him beneath your touch.

Joel exhales slowly, realizing he may have moved too quickly for you. "Too much, darlin'?" he asks with a chuckle, relieved when you giggle and nod in agreement.

But he sees the worry in your eyes, the need for understanding and space. You grip his flannel, pulling him close for a quick kiss, your words a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"I want this... I want you, Joel. I do," you confess, your voice filled with longing and hesitation.

"Just... not right now, not like this," you trail off, and Joel finishes your sentence, understanding the need for time and space to process everything.

He lifts you off the counter, noting how light you feel in his arms. He watches you pace the kitchen, a mix of emotions playing across your face. He settles on a stool, giving you the space you need to sort through your thoughts.

"I didn't think you were leading me on, and I didn't mean to be so forward," Joel says, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time, process everythin’ darlin’.”

Joel's phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he knows it's your father. He takes a deep breath and answers the call, trying to sound casual. You've stopped pacing but still look dazed, as if you're trying to process what just happened between us.

"Hey, man," Joel greets, hearing your father's voice from his car, still on his way to the office.

"Joel, I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I guess I'm the one who needs a nap, but I can't afford the time right now," he says, sounding sincere.

Your father has always been honest and upfront, and Joel feels a mix of pride and guilt as he listens to his apology. He knows that your dad will be upset once he finds out about the two of you, but until then, Joel thinks it's best to keep your secret a little longer.

"You don't have to apologize, buddy," Joel says, trying to reassure him. "When do you finish work today?" he asks, already thinking about the time they have left alone together.

More time to take things slow? Joel isn't sure. He wants to savor every moment with you, but he also can't wait to explore every inch of your body.

As your father continues to talk, Joel watches you, his mind filled with thoughts of the two of you together. He knows that things will get complicated soon, but for now, he's happy to be in your presence, to feel your warmth and energy.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Joel says, ending the call and turning to you. "Are you okay?" he asks, taking a step closer to you.

You nod, still looking dazed, and Joel wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. He knows that the two of you have a lot to talk about, but for now, he's content to hold you, to feel your heart beating against his chest.

The future may be uncertain, but Joel knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this way about anyone before, and he's not about to let you go.

As Joel holds you close, your head resting on his chest, you finally voice the question that's been lingering between you.

"I guess we can't do this sort of thing around my Dad, huh?" you ask, your voice soft against his skin.

Joel strokes your hair gently, his heart full of emotions he never thought he'd feel again. He marvels at how easily and perfectly this moment has unfolded, how right it feels to have you in his arms.

"We probably shouldn't, not yet," Joel replies, his voice tinged with longing. He feels you nod in agreement, and he knows that keeping this secret will be a challenge.

Joel had left town to escape the past, to build a new future for himself and his daughter Sarah. But now, as he returns to the place where it all began, he realizes that his future is intertwined with yours.

He sees a future with you, a life filled with love and possibility. He dreams of a family with you, of building something lasting and meaningful together.

As he holds you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his, Joel knows that this is just the beginning. 

As you and Joel waste no time getting settled in the new house, the air crackles with anticipation. Joel turns the key in the door, and as you step inside, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of desire.

Without a word, you set down his bag, and Joel takes your hand, pulling you close. He lifts you effortlessly, spinning you around in a dizzying whirl of passion and need.

The lock clicks shut, sealing you both in a world of raw desire and longing. The house feels like a sanctuary, a place where only you and Joel exist, at least for the next hour or so.

"Aren't you gonna show me around first? I had no idea the inside was so nice," you giggle, your head spinning from the intensity of his touch and the day's events.

"I thought you might like to show me around... your sweet fuckin’ body," Joel rasps in your ear before claiming your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Each touch, each kiss, ignites a fire within you, driving you to the edge of reason.

"You tell me if it gets too much, alright darlin'?" Joel murmurs between kisses, his strong arms wrapped around you. You nod eagerly, your body craving his touch, his presence.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, you gravitate towards the nearest soft surface, a luxurious leather sofa in the living room. Joel stops in front of it, but you're consumed by the need for him, the hunger for his touch.

You try to nod, talk, and kiss him all at once, but the overwhelming desire he stirs in you leaves you breathless and unable to form coherent words. "Yeah... fuck... yes, I will," you pant, your body arching into his touch as he explores every inch of you.

Joel lowers you onto the couch, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that matches your own. He drops to his knees in front of you, parting your legs with a firm grip, his gaze locked on your body with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna eat your little pussy, make you come until you beg me to stop,” he says in a firm tone.

His hands move with purpose, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you. You gasp and groan as he explores every inch of you, his fingers and tongue setting your body ablaze with pleasure.

As he delves deeper, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, you feel a wave of pleasure building within you, each touch pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

You writhe and moan under his touch, your body responding to his every move with a hunger that matches his own. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure, the air thick with desire and need.

His elbows prop your knees wide, and half-reclined on the worn leather, you can't help but feel a thrill at the sensations coursing through your body.

The scent of old leather and his cologne mingles with the musk of your arousal, creating a heady mix that only heightens your desire. You're ready for Joel, and you know it won't take long for him to bring you to the edge.

With a rough yank, he tears your panties aside, the sound of fabric rending adding to your arousal. You never knew you could feel this horny, and every moment with Joel only intensifies your desire.

He takes a moment to admire your slick folds, his thick fingers gently parting your lips. You grip his silver-flecked curls tighter as he moves down to taste you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with Joel's deep groans of pleasure. His tongue finds its mark, and you can't help but cry out, your body writhing under his touch.

Joel's mouth covers you completely, his tongue replacing his fingers as he explores every inch of your sex. You're on the brink of climax, your body trembling with need.

"Be patient, darlin'," Joel whispers hoarsely, his voice filled with desire. He grips your thighs, pushing them wider apart until his massive head is pressed between them.

You shift your grip to his broad shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Joel... Joel," you moan, trying to tell him how close you are, how much you want him. But all that comes out are animalistic sounds of pleasure.

Joel's body quakes with silent laughter, his voice deep and reassuring as he promises you can come all night. You trace the outline of his jaw, your body trembling with need as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

If heaven exists, you're sure you've found it in Joel's arms.

AN: I'm such a fool to think that this would be a one-shot... ya'll this is now a mini-series. Don't worry... this will be a two to three-chapter kinda series. 🤍

[theetherealbloom]

I’m so tempted to write a Joel Miller one-shot rn oml this SONGGGG

I was so right. But Daddy I Love Him is so Joel Miller coded. 🫶🤍

[theetherealbloom]

keep close | part III

Joel Miller x F!Reader [8.3k] summary: Joel was never a man of religion—thinking about the enormity of everything was not for him, but he understood the concept. Devotion. An other-worldly comfort in something, or a place. Joel had never, on the other hand, experienced religion. As he lifts his touch from your hands to explore the rest of your body, Joel is blessed, and this is holy. The air around him sizzles with everything existing between you two. 📝 This is the final part of this little story, and I hope it meets the expectations. If you enjoy it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. warnings⚠️ mature content—explicit depictions of sex, so minors dni. | 🏷️ soft!joel (he is, deep, deep inside, okay?), bathing together, slow undressing, deep talks, first time, dirty talk, begging, fingering, guided orgasm (yes, Joel Miller does walk you through it), penetration (p in v).

← part two | masterlist

Joel wished he felt comfortable in his skin.

He remembers there was a time when he did. He used to have a lighter step, lighter touch, lighter eyes.

All his edges feel sharp now, even to him—silver like steel, or the hair that glinted at him from every reflection as a reminder of why, and up until some time ago, he'd kept up a good shell. An exoskeleton of great thickness that kept him going with minimum blows to the skin.

Until a while ago, he had no reason to try being anything other than this.

Being this kept him alive, but—it would also keep him away. From Ellie. From you.

He wanted to be close to you. Closer than he admitted to himself for a long time.

As close as physics would allow, and even then, it wouldn't be enough.

He thinks about all that as he puts Ellie to bed.

Not that he calls it that. Or, god forbid, you did.

Ellie claims to be grown enough to live all on her own if it came to be, and yet, she somehow always ended up 'awakening' sometime in the night. Joel lost count of how many late-night conversations with you had been interrupted by that sight: her short, teenage frame being outlined in the darkness standing stiff and awkward, right before she blurted, "I keep hearing... you know."

Their noises.

Ellie's nightmares were about their noises. One day, you simply got up, took a deep breath, and said, "C'mon, let's go back to bed, I think you need just need some company. We can talk, if you want. Or not.."

No one — not you, not Joel — called it 'putting her to bed' because Ellie was grown, and 'far from a kid' already, as she'd put it. She didn't need some grown person talking to her until she falls asleep. It's just nice, she said. It's just soothing, because according to Ellie, they — the grown-ups — have a tendency of forgetting the 'younger folk need some stimulating conversation too, man'.

How could someone not love this kid?

Joel watches her sleeping body for a few moments. He places and tucks the blankets around her to keep her warm, and closes the door on his way out.

He hated to admit how magnetic she was at the start. It was so difficult to accept the sharp wit and horrible jokes were simply her. A part of her, born embedded in her genes just like a lack of patience, or straight hair.

When Joel opens the door to the bathroom, he's greeted by steam.

The whole place is still covered in it despite the hour of dinner.

He sees you sitting in front of the bathtub, and proudly announces. "Miss I don't need a lullaby today asked me to tell her a story," his eyes feel yours on him as he takes off his jacket.

He hears the scoff. "She's been asking me that all week," you answer with a tone that says you're behind, old man, "And she even threw the 'make them good stories, too—I don't want any boring, pg-13 rated shit.'"

"The army teaches shitty manners," he takes off the flannel jacket too and starts unlacing his boots. "She woke me up with a wet finger in my ear once. D'you know how long it's fuckin' been since someone did that? Decades. It's been literal decades."

"I think you meant to say the army doesn't teach them any manners," you say. "And hey—at least that's kind. You, on the other hand—"

"Oh, here we go," he laughs.

"—you decide to wake people by saying their name. Announcing their name, in that deep, Odin-inspired vibrato that already gives them a heart attack, and then you just," you blow raspberries in the air. "Fuck off."

He laughs. Tries his best to keep the volume low because he knows better, but laughing and kicking off his boots feels amazing.

None of you have showered since the attack.

A week was a gross amount of time to spend without a washing rag and hot water rubbing every inch of your skin, but the poor unfortunate truth of living in an apocalyptical world remained almost natural now—it was not weird to happen. Just gross.

Cleaning yourselves to the best of your lonesome abilities when there are bruises littering almost every member of your body is also a challenging task.

He's done poorly in his, and he wished bashfulness still existed somewhere in his bones for him to feel sorry about it. Instead, Joel let his body fall back with only a layer or two of clothes left in him and laid on his back on the floor.

He says, "I can't believe I'm gonna shower," fully expecting some witty remark back.

A joke. A jab. Anything other than— "Joel."

A soft, single whisper. Joel's head whips in your direction, and he almost gets up in an electric shock—your curled-up position awakens his instincts of 'cradle, cover, protect'.

Scared. Had he made a mistake? Had he jumped the gun and done something too fast? Something wrong?

Before he can jump to any conclusions, you add. "I'm gonna say this in a single breath 'cause I'm feeling oddly stupid about it and the rational, intelligent parts of my brain that know this means absolutely nothing can't find a single argument back for the question then why the hell do I still feel like every inch of my skin is a part of my insides..." you breathe in deep, and lift your head, tilting your chin high. Your eyes make sure to meet his. "I—," you choke on it once, and Joel witnesses as the blush rises from your neck, painting like watercolor its way up your skin. "I never... did anything. Nothing that went beyond sad, pathetic displays of.. what I can only call 'making out'," you laugh, humorless. "God, I feel like a fucking idiot."

"You're not," he affirms. He might be failing faintish, and his body may be running hotter than the insides of a volcano, but he'll be fine. "You tell me anythin' you wanna tell me, and I'll listen. And if you want to—"

"Don't," you interrupt him. "Don't take it back," your eyes shine at him. Don't take back your offer because it would hurt. It would kill me. "Please."

Joel would do anything you asked. "I won't."

You smile. "Thank you," you say softly. After another deep breath, you go on. "I wanted to tell because... It's only fair you know. Considering—" you swallow visibly around the word, and his body mimics the action as if you and he are your own hive of two, "I've thought about this. A lot, Joel."

A lot, Joel.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales, feeling the air punched out of his chest. He looks away from the earnestness on your face.

"And whether it's because a first impression always stays or not, I don't know, but I'm gonna remember."

And so would he.

Joel gets up from the form, his body now released from the imaginary chains that kept him bound to his place as you said your peace, and makes his way up the step to where the bathtub is and you're sitting on the floor.

It hits him that he's kissed you, and you've kissed back, and Joel's free to do it again.

The thought is what makes him sit right back you, pulling you in direction of his chest. You go easily, and it melts him more than the prospect of hot water on his body sometime soon.

"I thought you'd be happy I opened my mouth instead of stewing on stuff and keepin' it to myself and, y'know," he saw above your shoulders the way your hands did movements all over the place, and he laughed on your neck. "Didn't think you'd be this cuddly, though."

Joel rubs the bottom of his face on your skin just for that comment, enjoying feeling you squirm. "You opening your mouth is never a problem," he bites back with amusement.

"Callin' me blabbermouth?"

"Callin' you straight spoken," he corrects. "Precise."

"Awn, shucks—thanks, man," the sarcasm in your voice makes him groan. He's surrounded by smartasses, and it pains him. The laughter is nice, though; Joel guesses there are worst things than spending winter locked in a mountain cabin with someone who makes him laugh at the end of the world.

Sure, he is bruised and so many things are not right with humankind, but—not here.

He won't think about that now.

It's not his weight, just for these moments.

When you're done laughing, your body sags inside his hold, melting like snow under the Sun. He drinks it all in. "I'm aware this will be good for wounds 'n all, but I hate that I know it's gonna hurt so much the first couple of minutes that it makes me want to postpone it. What's another week without a proper shower, right?"

"Hell."

"Yeah, but so will be submersing our bodies in this," you point at the tub.

"At least it's together?" Joel offers.

Your head resting on his chest tilts up until you can look at him properly, and he's always thankful for the opportunity of seeing you smile. "That was cheesy," you whisper.

Once more, Joel sighs. He's smiling, but—it sounded so damn cute. Cheesy, accused between the lips that formed that teasing smirk, that mouth that—

Joel hates missing things.

He writes down in his mind that he will never miss your mouth; he'll always have it. If he wants it, he'll take it, and so he does.

Your face is angled, waiting for a hand of his to cup it and guide it toward his lips.

Kissing you is better than most things Joel's mind still clung to as the ones worth living for.

His personal favorite, the sun hitting skin for the first time after a long winter—it felt like that, but better.

He felt a tingle in his spine when you melted on him, prompting him to kiss harder—Joel starts moving his lips on yours and is granted with you following his lead like in the kitchen; you open up so well for him. You follow the rhythm of his tongue, and it makes it feel easy when he knows that's far from the truth.

When he pulls back, Joel thinks about what you said.

I never did anything.

Joel has to take deep breaths. You open your eyes after another heartbeat, and he's burdened with the silly need to kiss your entire face, so he does.

First the lips again. Then the cheeks, and the nose next, and you start giggling when he moves to your forehead, whispering, "tickles, Joel," but he doesn't care. There are the temples, and finally the chin, and—he exhales, smiling content at himself.

He looks ahead to the tub. It's a soaking type, made of dark wood he's almost sure comes from the forest surrounding them right now. "You think we'll fit in there?" he asks.

He feels your head moving to look, too. "It's made to fit two adults, I think."

"Ellie said it was the best bath she's had since she left the school," he shares.

Your hum of approval makes him realize just how hard this task is going to be—pun not intended but well applied. "She really needed one."

"We all do," he scoffs. Reluctantly, Joel lets go of your body to get up and finish undressing. He sees the two wood buckets you used to heat up water for Ellie's bath are full again, so he asks. "You heated up more water? Why?"

You pierce him with a are you kidding me, look. "Joel."

"Yes?"

"We need a wash, rinse, and repeat. I don't know about you, but I feel gross. Disgusting. Crusty—"

"Okay, okay," he interrupts, bursting into laughter. "I got you. You can stop tryna seduce me," he says while standing up.

Even though there's steam, he knows your blush is from him. For him. "Wasn't trying to," you argue with no heat. Smiling.

Joel is so fucked. "Really? All that sweet-talking about how much you stink had no goal?"

Your response is only a roll of the eyes, and Joel starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Hmm. Could've sworn it got me here showering with ya."

"You offered," you laugh, and then—your gaze lifts, sees what Joel is doing, and lowers, twice more bashful than before. "There was no seducing involved."

He groans in response. "Nope. 'm pretty sure your mouth was on mine. That's seducing," he states. "Hey," he calls. Your eyes find his. "You can look, 'yknow? 's nothing you won't be seein' in a second." Joel would say 'it's nothing special' but he knows you well enough. You'd hate hearing it, you'd fight him on it, so he thinks on his words. "If you want to," he adds, because fucking hell.

You do look up.

The second he feels your gaze on him, Joel's lifetime insecurities reappear from the shadows, birthing all over again like a flair under his skin.

He's okay. 5"11' of scars covering inner demons always on a battlefield, veins of whiskey, and a chest that he swore up and down would die empty.

It feels hot now. Occupied.

The shirt comes off, then the white tank top that's more a rag than a piece of clothing by now, and he only musters enough courage to look at you again as he unbuckles his belt.

The permission didn't prepare him to see you staring.

Gazing, checking him out with eyes as thirsty and obvious as a starving person being presented with a plate of their favorite food.

Joel swallows thickly around the knot that forms in his throat.

He wants to say something, but instead, he just undresses.

He wouldn't know what to say.

Joel didn't want things for two decades. He wants so much now that he feels like his body could vibrate at a frequency that would break glass.

His pants fall on the floor, and Joel stands there only in his underwear.

You swallow visibly, too. Then you look up into his eyes and say, "Permission to share a weird thought?"

That got his curiosity. You two loved sharing weird thoughts — no judgment, that was the rule — and he sees you nodding.

You start undoing your clothes as well. "You know that feeling of being so comfortable around a person 'cause they make you feel like you can be yourself?"

"Yeah."

"I always had that with you," you say. Joel removes his underwear with a single motion and tries to push down the feeling of hotness climbing up his chest. "And... I don't know if it's post-apocalyptical shit or not, but, d'you feel like you have a hunger that could never be fulfilled, ever again?"

Joel sits back down while he waits. "I do," he answers. "About everything, right?"

"Yes!" your exclamation is earnest. You get it. "I'll never satisfy any of it," you conclude. "That same feeling—that despair that a decadent world creates in you... it made me look at you and think 'I wanna bury myself in him' because—it brought me comfort? I hope that's not a too weird thought, I don't wanna freak you out or anything, but..." you shrug. He sees you trying to gather the words, and waits. "I just always had this.... feeling, this thing where I looked at you, and you're so broad, and tall, and strong," you shiver, and Joel feels his body twitching in response, "I wanted to get under your skin. Just... make myself all cozy inside you. That's probably some weird, mother-issue kind of thing, but."

It makes him laugh.

Joel looks down at himself for a second because taking in what you said and watching more of your skin become visible made his throat dry and his hands itch. "Trust me," he says. "You're under my skin."

Despite already being naked, Joel feels he peeled off another layer just with those words.

"You ready to go in?" He doesn't check for how you took the confession. He'd never said anything close to it that if he thought about it too long or too hard, something inside him would burst. "It's gonna hurt."

It takes a second for you to answer, and he's already up and dipping his legs inside when you do. "Good to know."

Nothing more than a soft whisper, and it heats up his insides better than the water.

Joel hisses in pain as his body submerges. While he alone occupies a good portion of the tub, you'll fit. A tight fit. Another knot forms in his throat.

There's the faint sound of clothing pieces hitting the floor and when he looks to the side, you're like he is—naked.

Vulnerable.

Just like him, you do it in one go, submerging your body despite the pain of the still-throbbing wounds. Your face scrunches in pain, which is the only reason he can focus on something else other than your legs touching his underwater.

The rag used for bathing is hung on the tub—clean, dry, washed.

He picks it up as you throw some water on your shoulders, and thinks about how much of you he'd like to know still.

So he asks. "Can I start?" He'd never be able to focus on something else with your hands on his body—washcloth separating the touch or not.

"You—you're actually gonna—uhm. Bathe me?"

"That's the idea, yeah. Unless you don't want me—"

"I do!" you interrupt. "I just—I thought you were only gonna clean my wounds."

There's not much space to move around now that you two are sitting, but he can move.

"No," Joel dips the cloth in the water and grabs the soap bar outside the tub. "Can you turn around for me?" He needs to find his guts first. If you're facing him, Joel will just gaze. Desire. Distract himself. "Wanna start with your back."

"'kay."

When you turn, Joel's mind goes blank.

Here he is, sharing a tub with the one person who's made him feel more human than anything else, and all he can do is long for.

His worries as he walked to the bathroom involved discomfort or tension. There's none to be found, even in the silence.

Joel sees your hair all tied up and wished he was the one to do it. "Aren't you gonna wash your hair?" he asks, and his hands start to work.

"One thing at a time, don't you think?" you chuckle. "If I was gonna do that I'd have to heat up another bath."

"Just for the hair?"

"Just for the hair. Ask El, doing this shit nowadays is a nuisance."

"I'll take your word for it," he's careful with his hands. There aren't many open wounds on your body, only splashes of purple, green, yellow, and blue. A Monet painting. "Please tell me if I hurt you."

There's a moment of silence before you answer, "You couldn't." It's the softest he's ever heard your voice, and he hears the confidence and truth in it. You don't believe he could hurt you. You're a hundred percent right, of course, but hearing it still soothes him. "But I will," you add, turning your face around to give him a smile.

Instead of returning it, Joel leans forward and kisses the lips that continue to do it—every time you confess thoughts and feelings buried in you, Joel feels something stirring inside. Being born, maybe. Growing.

You lean back to the kiss, and suddenly, your back is touching his chest. Joel makes sure to keep his hips propped against the bathtub so this is about what he said more than what he wants, but this is now his favorite position.

When you pull back, Joel feels himself smiling.

Opening his eyes, he finds you staring.

"It'll hurt when I wash that knife wound," he remembers.

Your eyebrows pierce together, recalling the gash you have on your left side. "It'd hurt more if it were days ago?"

It's offered like leverage. He takes it. "Brave one," he states. So much braver and smarter than he'll ever be—someone who still has the courage to feel what she feels and say it.

Joel hopes it'll rub off on him.

"You're the brave one," you counter. "You know... I think you never told me about what you did before all this."

He frowns. "No?"

You shake your head. Joel adds more soap to the cloth and starts washing your arms, "I used to work construction."

"Did you like it?" your body is loose in his hold. Joel holds up one of your hands and washes it slowly, back and forth, like he'll do to every part of you.

"I did. I think there's something to be said about building a home. About building good structures, y'know?"

As he cleans your body and wounds, the questions keep on coming, and he keeps on delivering answers.

For your arms, you ask about his work, and who he worked with. Joel takes note of every scar you have on your body, curious as to whether they came before or after the outbreak.

When he moves to your back and chest, you ask him about what he used to enjoy. He talks about it—trips with his brother, barbecues with friends and family, a nice and peaceful week at a distant country somewhere where he barely speaks the language, but he can get to know different cultures and people.

Joel stops when he sees the tattoo of a date under your right boob, trying his hardest to ignore the desire to squeeze what's in front of him.

Not the time. Bathe first, feel it later.

"Whose birthday is it?" he asks, putting the tip of his finger on it.

You stay silent, so he keeps on moving. He slides his hand underwater to your leg, and palming its way down your thigh and calf, he grabs hold of your foot; he's analyzing for any wounds but finds none, so he starts washing your legs.

When the answer comes, Joel's hand stops for a moment.

"It was—," your choked-up voice pulls his eyes to your face, and the sorrow he finds there makes him ache. "Oh, god."

A choked-up laughter. No humor to it, and a thousand ghosts on your face tell him he's about to hear something that'll change him again.

"You don't have to—" he starts, but you raise a hand asking for silence, for give me a second, and he stops. As long as you want to.

"We never talked about the 26th," you state. He goes back to washing your legs, shaking his head. "Can I?"

"Yeah."

"I was—" you breathe in deep, and look at him again searching for something. "I never told this to anyone."

Joel nods. "I never talk about it, too."

"It doesn't help, does it?" Your eyes are red-rimmed, and Joel notices there's much about you he never figured out. You're younger than him by a lot, but you were there.

"No." Sirens, flares of green light, and the cracking cacophony of screams and shots still wake him up almost daily. "No, it doesn't."

"I miss talking about him," you whisper to him. A tear slides down your face, and it cuts him.

Who does she miss? "Who do you miss?"

He's moved onto the other leg when you answer. "I was at my best friend's house on the twenty-sixth. She was working double shifts at the hospital to pay for—," you stop.

Joel can only take so much. He pulls you close until your face is resting on his shoulder, and he feels his eyes stinging.

He gets that. Sometimes saying a name was too much.

It took months before you heard of Sarah, and her name was all you got until now.

"Take your time," he says.

"Caio needed new glasses." Your arms wrap around Joel's middle, and he knows you'll be staying in his arms until the tale's over.

"Caio," he repeats. Recalling the roman numbers, he adds. "January twenty-five."

"Yeah. He—Caio broke his on his solo mission to find fossils in my backyard—well, technically my dog Diana was responsible, but he always said 'don't blame her, Gumma, she only wants to kiss me', so we said it was his fault."

"Gumma? Who's Gumma?"

"I am," you laugh. "He couldn't say 'godmother when he was born, so he shortened it. He told everybody I was Gumma, his s-second mommy."

Joel tightens his hold on you, suddenly very aware that he's shaking.

"He was sick," you go on. "So no school for him that day. Which means I was there. I could work from home, so Milla always called me."

"Was it just her?"

You nod on his shoulder. Joel starts rubbing his hand all over your back and he could never tell if it was for your comfort or his.

Both, probably.

"We raised him, basically," you sniffle. "Milla and I lived on the same street. She was basically disowned for her teenage pregnancy, so I told her parents they were always shitty at their job, and that unlike them, I knew what family meant, and that we didn't need them. If she wouldn't, I might as well."

Joel smiles at that. "Sounds like you."

"We moved, worked shitty jobs, and lived together for the most part. My parents helped us with bills for the most part of the first years. When—when Caio turned eleven, my parents paid for the coolest party. And—I'll never forget it, 'cause it was the last one he had, so..."

Eleven.

Joel buries his face and tears on the curve of your neck.

"So on the twenty-sixth, I was at home with him all day. Fucking hell, how unfair is that? That I got all those hours with him and—" the way you burrow your face on his throat makes Joel wish he could make you live under his skin. Protected from everything. Even memories. "When everything started going wrong, Milla was still at the hospital. She called twenty-three minutes before all signals went out to tell me that something was wrong, very wrong and that she felt we needed to go somewhere safe. She said 'babe, I want you to think of nothing else but getting to safety, d'you hear me? Go to Mr. Nunqua's house, he has a safety bunker there—go, and take Caio. I'll find you there."

Joel listens to the rest of the tale with his heart in his hands.

You got there, but Mr. Nunqua was already infected.

He was the first person you killed. His wife was the second.

You managed to get both you and Caio to the bunker, safe and sound, but it wasn't enough.

It never is.

Caio being Infected was a crueler end than anything Joel's mind came up with.

"He realized it, Joel. He noticed something was wrong, and—"

It takes a few more moments before you can finish what he already expected. "He asked me to make the pain stop before he could hurt me. He said 'please don't let me hurt you, Gumma'."

Milla found you cradling his body in your arms hours later, and that was the last you two saw of each other.

He lets you take your time to feel better before he pulls your face back to look at it.

The pink cheeks and eyes hurt him, but when he kisses your face, your lips, all he can think is how proud he is of you.

"Can I do you now?" you ask, pulling your hand out of the water in a request for the cloth.

He hands it to you, and watches as you do the same routine as he did.

In return, he asks you all types of questions.

He thought it would be hard to concentrate with your hands on him, but they're so dainty and careful that Joel feels transcendental.

No one ever took care of him like this.

Even the lovers that he once showered with, it was never this intimate.

In the bruises where he hisses in pain, you kiss somewhere else in a soothing manner. His shoulder, the nape of his neck, his outreached arm.

When the question comes, Joel is waiting for it, but he's not ready.

You answer the question about the places you've been and he replies with, "Oh, Sarah always wanted to go there. India."

"Did she?"

It's such a simple answer.

It locks him up the same. His muscles become tense, and his head shakes almost on its own.

I can't do it. He wished to be strong like you but talking about her hurts. "It hurts to talk about her. I don't—I can't."

He expects a nod, or a change of subject.

What he gets instead is you cupping his face in his hands and looking at every inch of his face.

"I know it hurts," you state. Joel, for the first time, believes someone. We raised him. You know how it feels, you do. Which is why what comes next blindsides him. "But Joel—she's already gone. I never thought I was gonna be able to speak about him with someone who understood, but—here you are. We cant—are you going to let her be forgotten, too?"

Bullets hurt less.

His body reacts for him—the inhale is shaky, almost frail. Your words hit harder than shots, but that's okay, because your inquisitive mind and sharp tongue were a couple of the reasons why he went back for you.

It was needed.

"I—" you start. Stop. Joel looks up at you, breathing out the air stuck inside his lungs, and wills himself to breathe. "You know..." your voice is quiet. "I think higher... beings or whatever—that does exist, 'cause—" your laugh is humorless. "I would totally be dead because of my stupid mouth if my path had crossed with anyone else but you."

Now he gets the lack of humor—a sad statement, but never untrue. Not even a hyperbole. Joel nods, "I'd say it's because you say things that you shouldn't, but it's the opposite. And most people don't like that."

I'm not most people, he thinks.

Thank you for saying what you did, is left unsaid. He sees in your eyes that you heard it loud and clear.

"What I'm saying is... you don't have to be ready now, but—" when you lean, his eyes close on instinct, but the kiss lands on his cheek. Sweet. Saccharine. "Please know that you can. When you want to."

He nods.

After a deep breath, you look at all of him. "I think we're clean. Next round?"

The tub is emptied, filled up again, and Joel thinks about how right you are, and how often.

The second shower will be perfect. He's clean now, but when he sits back down on clean water, it feels different.

He groans, and you laugh in response. "I know, right?"

Joel liked it better when you were fitting your bodies against each other.

The water in the tub seems to carry the tension of what you two have been waiting for. Conducting the electricity in each other's thoughts.

"What now?" you ask.

Joel knows what now. "C'mere," he pats his chest.

Like a well-oiled machine, you spin around and fit yourself against him in a second.

This time, Joel pulls you close until you're basically on his lap.

"Now this," he answers. To feel. "I think I had a dream like this once when we were camping."

"What?!"

He likes how shock always makes you look at him, even if it means craning your neck in the worst positions. He laughs. "Yeah. It was a river instead of a cool tub in a forest cabin, though."

"There's no way you—" words are cut sharp, and your eyes widen. "You did! Oh my god, you actually did. You avoided looking at my face all day for two days after that, I thought I'd done something wrong!"

He takes the hit you land on his shoulder with a smile. "You did. You sunk a knife in the middle of an Infected's head and kept me from dying."

What else could he say?

Joel shrugs. "It was hot."

He likes how you can look shy even sitting on his lap, feeling all of his body. "You're crazy," you laugh, looking down.

"Mmm. And don't you forget it," he kisses your shoulder, and that's it—that's all both of you needed to wish for more.

Your hand comes to cover both of his, and Joel is giddy with excitement when you guide his hands from your middle to your breasts.

It's silent permission. An invite.

It's all he needs.

"Can I make you feel good?" he kisses right under your ear and nuzzles his nose right there, goosebumps rising on his skin in response to your full-body shiver.

The next touches are bathed in silence.

The only sounds in the room come from the water moving with each move of both your bodies, and the soft exhale that escapes your lips.

Joel doesn't think about how long it's been since—everything feels like a first time.

A rekindle of sorts.

The hands you guided to your boobs stay there for a few moments, getting a feel of their size, their softness, how perfect they feel in his hands.

Your head drops to his shoulder, chin tilted upwards, eyes closed.

Joel thinks he's dreaming.

The faint pain in some places of his body is the only indication he has of reality.

Nothing else matters when you say, "Joel," so softly, so pleading.

"I'm here," he kisses the words on your skin. Your cheeks, temples, your shoulders that are right there. "I'm here, darlin'."

In the soft moans you let out, Joel plants a flag to signal his way home now every time he's lost in darkness.

The moans are so earnest and shaky that Joel starts trembling when you do. His hands move to explore your belly, and he pins the wound on your side as a reminder for later—it'll scar. He wants to kiss it better. Will kiss it until he's satisfied.

When his hands reach your waist, he imagines you feel his heart racing faster.

He takes his time with it, not only because you deserve it, but because it feels good.

Playing with the hair on your pussy feels good because it makes you whimper. Touching the folds with the tip of his fingers gets your legs to open a little wider until they're spread apart. Joel moans at the gesture and is gifted with another shiver. "Like this?" he asks, doing it again.

Tracing his fingertips up and down the folds.

"Joel," you grind against him, reminding him that he's here, and he's aching, too.

When you do it, your ass finds his cock hard as a rock, and it snuggles to grind on him, giving him the first feel of friction.

With another moan, Joel's lips are sucking on your earlobe. "Tell me what I do that feels good," he states.

Then he dips his fingers inside.

"No one's touched you here before?" his middle finger dips right into the core, applying pressure but not touching.

Your moans vibrate on his chest. "N-no one but me."

"Yeah?" the mental image makes him even harder. Joel thought that wasn't even possible anymore. "Did you finger yourself a lot?"

You nod frantically, pushing your hips forward, seeking more of his touch.

"Did it feel this good?" he moves his middle and ring finger up until they find your clitoris, and he starts rubbing circles on it; he pinches it, measures it with his knuckles, plays with it.

Maybe that's why you don't answer.

He'll take your moans as a good sign. Your chest is panting, and Joel feels a little drunk. He hasn't been drunk in years—no whiskey available for regular people will do that anymore; too diluted, too fake.

Your heavy breathing and nails sinking on his forearms get his mind hazy.

Joel kisses, licks, then sucks on your neck. "Talk to me, darlin'. I wanna know. I need to know."

"Joel," you say, but too loud. He uses his other hand to pinch your nipple, and the whimper you let out makes him twitch against your back.

"No screaming." Not this time. "I'm waitin' on your answer."

"I don't remember the question," you whine.

"Did it feel this good?" he pushes only one finger inside, and your mouth opens wide. Joel might not make it—it's so fucking tight and all he can think about is burying himself in it. All of him.

"Nonononono, it didn't, it didn't," you mumble.

It's a slow process, opening you up.

All the time, Joel talks in your ear about how good you're doing. "Taking my fingers so well, look at ya," he sounds drunk if he pays close attention. Two fingers fit in too tight, so Joel takes his time until he feels you opening up.

There's the grinding that never stops—the more Joel pushes his fingers in and out of you, the more you move in sync with his hand, grinding back up against him with every push inside.

It's torture. He loves every second of it.

"I want more," you whine at some point.

Joel was so lost appreciating the view of your chest painted red that he missed when you whispered his name the first couple of times.

He checks it—buries his fingers up until his knuckles, massages the spots inside of you that make you curl your toes and pull your knees up higher.

"Please," you beg.

He likes the sound of it, but he'll leave that for later.

The third finger is easier than the second—Joel feels how slick you are. He knows water bodies are not the best places for penetration, but he values your comfort more than anything right now, and in here you're both warm. At ease.

When his name starts falling from your lips like a song, Joel knows it's coming.

His other hand keeps traveling through your body—grabbing at your neck, pinching the hardened nipples of your gorgeous tits, palming through your stomach.

If his lips left your skin for longer than a minute, Joel thinks it's too much. "Yeah, yeah, I know, darlin', it's climbing up, isn't it?" he thinks addiction can be so easy. Your whines are necessary now for him, no matter what. "I wanna see it so badly." His voice had never been this low. Hoarse like sandpaper, and so filled with lust. "You're all ready for me now, d'you feel it?"

All three fingers are buried until the knuckles. Scissoring them open, pumping them against your walls in search of that spot inside you that makes you shake—Joel can barely breathe.

"D'you want more than this? Hm? 'Cause I'm in heaven, darlin'," he tells you. "All I need is to see you let go now. I can't believe I'll be the lucky fucker that gets to see you fall apart."

"Joel, I want more—want all of it, please, please—"

"I'll give it to you, I will." He'd give you anything. "You can have anything you ask me, anythin'."

"Harder—please, please, please—oh! Fuck, like that, like that, Joel."

"You sound so good moaning my name I'm gonna fuckin' lose my mind," he growls. "Do it. Cum on my fingers. Cum for me."

Joel marveled with every shake of your body. He closed his eyes and kissed the part of yours that was the closest. Your legs clamped shut around his hand, thighs shaking. At least this time, you remembered to muffle your sounds on him.

In his neck, you bit down the whispers of his name. Whimpers. Ohs,

He waited for the impossible grip to ease before he thumbed a grazing touch over your clit—just to check; to feel.

"Want more," you kissed his neck, and there was no need for all that honey in your voice, really.

Joel drank it, anyway. Licked it clean from your lips, and drowned in the way you and the water seemed to wrap him in.

"We gotta get outta the water, baby," says Joel. "'s not a good idea we do it in here."

You stopped kissing his neck, your hips stopped their motion and the little look around you at the room makes Joel's stomach feel funny. He feels almost suffocated with this need to kiss all over the red on your face.

"Uhm—are we... here?"

Joel never thought he'd live to see the day you would avoid the word 'fuck', but he smiled at it. "No, darlin', we should get dry. Put our clothes on. We can finish this in the room, right?"

You lick your lips, and then his. You bite his bottom lip, sucking it into yours, and Joel is fucked.

He melts, too. All over you, on your fingertips caressing his cheeks, on your chest pressing against his, and on the depths of your eyes as you stare deeply into his.

"'kay," you whisper. "Let's go."

Joel helps you out and loves to watch the way you gravitate toward him. When you whisper, "Do we have to put on our clothes?"

He wraps you in the towel instead of answering, and pulls you to his chest again. "Body warmth, remember?" Just for good measure, he puts the other one around him, collects all the clean clothes you had bought, and then looks at you.

"Hop on," he nudges your waist with his hands, and you get exactly what he means; your legs wrap around his middle and your arms stay firm around his neck. Joel holds you with a satisfied grunt, "atta girl."

The warmth of all of this has a price.

Joel knows it as he walks you to the room you two share, as he closes the door behind you both, as he lays your bodies on the joined mattresses, and pulls the winter blanket over your bodies.

It'd be more than a steep price.

Something on the figures of what he signed off when he took the job from Marlene—when he took Ellie out of her fingers.

Those dotted lines he signed with a blind eye. Unaware of what he was agreeing to until he Ellie's life faced danger and all the moments of every single awful joke she told, her smart jabs and the braveness in her bones to risk her life for him came back like a slap to the face, and Joel was crushed under the enormous weight of it all.

He accepted it, even if he still couldn't say it.

With you, it was almost the same.

He signed the dotted lines when he came back for you.

He couldn't know, wouldn't dream of knowing what he had signed up for until the time he ordered you to keep close and you answered with: "Always. El, you know it—between us."

Seven words, and Joel thought of nothing else for days.

Always.

For months, you never left his side.

Abided by his temper, shortness, curt words.

Spoke through his darkness and whiskey, reaching out to him the same way you did with Ellie—pulling from deep within the part of him that was still alive. Truly human.

When Joel touches all of you covered under a blanket, he wills his eyes to stay shut because if he opens them, they'll sting.

He feels too much, and it's never enough. The taste of your skin is sewn along with lines of fear, the acidic and familiar taste of I can't do it. I can't lose this. I can't lose you.

He kisses every inch.

Joel licks his name out off your lips every time they come out.

He nuzzles his face like an animal trying to imprint scent all over—from your neck all the way down to the inside of your thighs you'll have beard burns and it's okay, because you ask for them.

In the quiet, you two say so much.

Joel asked you, "you gotta keep quiet, baby, we can't be loud," and you listened, because you're so good. He says it, too. "So good, baby... you're so good," and listens to you reply with,

"You're so good, Joel. So good."

He soaks it all up until it's all mixed in his veins.

The price of hearing your sinful whisper in his ear is high. "Need you inside me," you brand in his skin. "Please, Joel?"

Joel would close his eyes and see those words—he wants to burn them behind his eyelids since they're so loud they erase everything else from his brain for a while.

He fingers you some more to double-check if you're ready and he has to talk, because, "You're so fuckin' wet, darlin', my god," he whispers in your ear, and your nails clawing at his back, digging into his skin tell him to hurry. "All this for me?"

"Please stop torturin' me," you whisper back, sounding like you're about to cry.

It's torture for both of you, so Joel lines up. He teases you with his cock, gliding his shaft between your lips, coating it in the slick that's dripping down your legs, and whispers, "You want it?"

"Joel," you growl at him.

Joel pushes in with a smile on his face and has his face scrunched in a silent smile when he slips inside. It's a tight fit at first, and Joel has to stop midway. He has to breathe.

"'m gonna go slow, 'kay?" He does. He pulls almost all the way out, and slowly pushes in again, feeling you tense around him, "Breathe, baby, you gotta breathe for me."

"Joel," you whisper. Around his cock, your cunt pulses, and he curses under his breath. You bury your whole face in his face and moan. "s big," you moan. "Feels so good."

He's only a man, you see—Joel's hands are supporting his weight on each side of your face, and they tremble.

He has to drop to his forearms and elbows, caging your body underneath his. "Breathe really deep for me, baby," he whispers, and you do it. "Close your eyes now, and relax."

The price of having you all to himself is one Joel never could afford, but one he'll spend each day of his life doing everything in his possession to pay.

His whole body shakes as you open up for him. It's a blossoming—Joel feels it around his cock the moment your body relaxes and you feel it.

Your legs wrap around him tighter.

"Move," you whisper.

So he does.

He's deeply in debt.

Joel gets lost in the feeling of how warm and tight you are around his cock, and it makes him drunk. It makes him feel like you're wrapped all around him, and Joel never fucked like this.

He could've gone a century without sex and he would remember;

Nothing felt like this.

No desire or lust or bodies aligning ever made him move this slowly, with this much pace; Joel's back must become a mural of claws being sharpened by the time you beg him to go faster, to push harder.

"'m not gonna break Joel, for fuck's sake, please," you beg as he kisses your lips and fucks you leisurely, and it registers.

Through the thick fog of everything that this is, he listens to it, and he gives it to you.

Joel has no idea how he lasts this long.

When you cum for him, it's not even because he's fucking you. He's more like imprinting the memory of your velvety touch all around him, pushing deep and hard as he caresses the sweat off your face, and he's telling you all that his lust-drunken mind is thinking off.

"Didn't think—could feel this good, darlin'." His pauses are his thrusts, and he wonders if you're listening to any of it, or is just lost on the sound of his voice. He knows you like it. "You like—the sound of my voice—don't you, baby? I know you do." Thurst—and deep, and fuck, "I'm—so fuckin' lucky—look at you—look at how good—god, you're gonna kill me, baby—"

He dies a little death when he feels you start shaking.

All you.

His name spills from your lips and your nails dig in deeper than ever before, and that's what does it, what drops the pin and makes the ball of knotted tension that kept him high burst—Joel has only the notion to pull out before he cums, but he cums so hard that he loses sense of everything for a moment or two.

Your hands are soothing his face when he comes back to it.

Joel feels like a whole person for just those hours with you in the dark.

With you, he realized something—while Joel's skin may offer him little comfort, yours does.

The soothing peace that comes with feeling that again, comfort, makes Joel breathe out and close his eyes without his chest tied in one big knot for the first time since... it. He is alive. However that came to be, or why, he'll never know, but your words are a mantle of truth that can start bringing peace to his inner war of two continuous decades now—he can either keep living and burying everything: Existence, hopes, feelings, love, memories, her, her—Sarah;

or... he can live.

Joel wants to live. With Ellie, with you. He pulls you closer, and focuses one last second to hear the certain sound of Ellie's pencil furiously creating something on paper across the thin wall, and he sleeps.

📝 So. I gave the old man some love and some peace (that he deserves) because I watched him lose yet another person this Sunday and I was hurt. What did you guys think? :)

[theetherealbloom]

i am once again reminding people that just because you find a kink to be personally disgusting, that does not mean that kink is inherently wrong.

just because a fic makes you personally uncomfortable, that does not mean the writer is inherently a bad person.

and just because you have the ability to post whatever the fuck kinda bullshit callout posts you want on tumblr dot com whenever something mildly upsets you, that doesn't mean you actually should.

sometimes things are just not for you (a wild concept, i know).

i'm so tired of having this discussion. i am over moral superiority and i am over baseless accusations being hurled at people who are literally just out here engaging with fiction. block and move on if you see something you don't like and keep your weirdo puritan bullshit to yourself.

[theetherealbloom]

happy birthday pedro pascal. thank you for ruining my life.

[theetherealbloom]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEDRO PASCAL! april 2nd 1975

[theetherealbloom]

[theetherealbloom]

If you super boop me and i dont super boop back, i promise its just cause im on mobile